#i need to find 10k on the ground

[hwajoongie]

I really want a new car but godddd I don't want to make PAYMENTS

[monstersflashlight]

To kill a king, to fuck a dragon (Day 8/8 of 10k followers event)

A/N: Hi there people! I’m so, so glad that all of you took time to read all the stories I post, especially these past 8 stories that had been super exploratory for me. I think I did good enough, at least y’all seemed to like it. For this last one I added a bit more plot than usual, this is a tiny bit longer and I think the story is really good. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. Also, and once again, I want to thank ALL OF YOU for following this little corner of the internet and being so supportive and great, special thanks to all my patrons to make my life a little bit easier <3, this has been a blast so far and I hop y’all keep reading, hopefully this account is just the beginning of a much longer exploration of monsterfuckery for us all. (PS: If someone catches the very subtle Grey’s anatomy reference please let me know so we can be friends)

Dragon x fem!reader || size kink, slow-burn (kinda), sex with feelings, magic saliva, spit on pussy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation || tw: mentions of murder

You enter the cave and are surprised to find a door, a normal human door caved into the rock. It looks like a house, a house on the rock, but still normal. What the fuck? Your hopes and dreams of finding the dragon slowly disappear, your eyes teary.

Someone chooses that moment to speak behind you: “Who are you?” You turn around so fast you fall to the ground with a scream. The stranger looks at you like you are a bug he needs to squeeze, and you feel a tear running down your cheek. Fuck. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry even if there wasn’t a dragon. “Again: who are you?” His tone is harsh and you want to cry even more, but you bit your tongue.

“I- I came to find the dragon,” you confess, swallowing around the knot in your throat.

He looks at you like you are a joke, not even trying to help you to your feet. “What dragon?” He asks, his tone amused.

You get up and look at him, trying to look as serious as you can when you say: “They- They told me there was a dragon here.” You fail.

He chuckles, inspecting you up and down, his eyes zeroing on the few tears that escaped your eyes. “No dragons, just me,” he finally answers, his tone a lot softer than before.

“Uh-oh… Sorry. I’ll be on my way, then.” You try to get pass him, sniffling as you do so, trying really hard to get out before you start sobbing.

He sighs, and adds: “do you want some tea?” He offers you his hand, and weirdly enough, you don’t feel threatened or scared, you feel calm around him.

“Really?” You don’t want to sound too hopeful but you are thirsty and tired and you want to cry because there is no dragon and you basically lost hope of everything.

“Yeah, come on.” He motions you to follow him inside the rock house, and you are surprised about how cozy and homey it feels inside, like out of a fairy-tale kind of thing.

He makes some tea as you lean against the door frame of the kitchen, trying to look around as much as possible without looking too snoopy about it. Not that he seems to care that you are curious about everything, he just looks at you every once in a while like making sure you are still there.

“Why were you looking for a dragon?” He asks when he sets the tea cup on the table in front of you. A similar one in front of him. You sit and start sipping on the best tea you’ve ever had.

You sip the tea for a couple seconds, trying to decide if you can trust him, at the end you decide why not, your life is already ruined. “To kill the king,” you say. He chokes on the tea he’s drinking, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from giggling.

“What?” He asks again when he recovers, his face red from the coughing.

“To kill the king,” you repeat. He still looks stunned so you give him more context: “I- I was bought when I was in the womb. My parents promised me to him in exchange for gold, and the day we marry is approaching. I don’t want to do it, he’s a foul man, and I didn’t choose this. I overheard some servants talking about the dragon in the mountains, and I though… I thought they would help me.” You try not to sound too bitter about it, but you can’t keep the despair out of your voice.

He looks at you like you are suddenly the most interesting specimen of a bug. “You escaped the castle and came here?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully. There was a lot more implied in that simple question. You escaped, but not only that, they are probably looking for you and the king would probably kill those guards you ran away from. You try not to be too sad about them, they were cruel with you, laughing at you every time you passed, talking about how the king got a new hot wife.

“Are they still looking for you?” He asks, a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

“Probably.” It’s the truth but it still carries a lot of pressure as you say it. You understand though, you know it’s not his problem and you shouldn’t even be there. You’d find another way to escape the king. “I’ll be out of your hair, I promise. You didn’t sing up for any of this.” You realize the sun is setting in the horizon and you don’t know if you could find your way back to the village. Fuck. “I need to go. The village is a long journey from here,” you try not to sound scared, but an edge of fear permeates your voice.

He surprises you by saying: “Stay. I have a guest bedroom and there’s no way you could get back to the village if it’s this dark.”

You want to say no, to refuse, that’s improper, but the idea of going back to that golden prison is enough to make you say: “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” It’s a promise you do to him, but also to yourself. That man showed you more caress that anyone in your life, and you didn’t want to cause him unnecessary trouble. You’ll leave in the morning.

Problem is… You never do.

The next day he prepares breakfast, and insists on showing you around his house. It’s so beautiful you are mesmerized. His garden especially. It’s so colorful and big and calm…. You feel an instant connection to the earth, and to him. He’s so easy to be around, he treats you so differently like what you are used to. And you like it. You like it so much that you get distracted until the sun is setting once again. And he never tells you to leave.

And days pass. One day turns into another, and you… never leave. You know someday they will come back for you. You know you can’t run away from your problems. But right there, in the side of the mountain with that nice man that took you in… It feels possible to run away. It feels possible to avoid the awful destiny that was set for you before you were even born.

He teaches you to cook, to take care of plants, to polish wood… He’s like a handyman that can do all, and you are his new apprentice, even though he insists on doing all the heavy lifting. But on top of that, he just… amazing. He takes care of you, but also you two argue about stupid stuff until you are red faced and you want to hit him, just to end up laughing when he tells you a stupid joke. You have the most fun you had in ages with him.

Until one day all shifts (pun intended).

You are laying around under the tree as he does some gardening. He wouldn’t let you near the roses in case you got hurt. “I have something to tell you,” he breaks the silence.

“What?” You ask, looking directly at him, a spark of something unknown raising inside of you, like bugs in your stomach, crawling around every time you set your eyes on him, on his beautiful smile.

He looks at you intently and says the most ominous thing: “I- I think it’s better if I show you, actually.”

“Show me what? Why do you sound so serious?” You try to joke, but it doesn’t land because he still looks at you with a poker face.

He looks worried, apprehension settling on his features. “Just… Wait until I’m done to say anything, please?” His tone is more than pleading, is more like he’s begging you to understand, and you don’t know what could possibly be so bad.

“Okay…” You tell him, anxiety spiking.

And then he turns. Literally. His body contorts and cracks, and there’s a bunch of things happening at once, and before you realize, there’s a dragon in front of you. A full on real dragon. What? He’s majestic, as big as a house and skin covered in the most precious scales. He looks like a work of art… you are mesmerized.

“You said there was no dragon!” It’s the first thing out of your mouth, an edge of hysterics creeping in your tone.

You laugh then. You laugh so hard and so much you have tears rolling down your eyes. He changes back, and tries really hard to cover his manhood with his hands, failing and making you laugh even harder.

“You are a dragon,” you say when your laughter dies down.

“I am,” he says simply, approaching you slowly until he’s right in front of you. “And I will kill the king for you,” he adds.

There’s no point in asking why he didn’t tell you sooner, you understand why. Why would he? Why would he trust his deepest secret to you? But him showing you now? It meant more than the world, it made you forget about everything and anything chasing you down. It makes you happy. He makes you happy.

“No. I don’t care about the king. I just… I love you. I think what I feel is love, I never felt like this before.” You tell him, heat creeping up your cheeks. He looks at you like he’s surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that at all. “Do you feel it, too?” You ask shyly, your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat faster and faster.

“Ye- yes. I love you, too.” His confession is followed by his hands cupping your face, so soft and tender, you feel a tear running down your cheek as he kisses you for the first time.

You should have known better than to think your life could be so perfect.

You don’t hear them before you are captured. At least four soldiers appear at the edge of the garden and catch you before you can scream. You think about him, about your dragon, and lament how confused he will be when he returns and you aren’t there. You worry he would think you abandoned him… But you can’t do anything as they take you away from the only place you felt like home.

They don’t even wait a whole day before they are dressing you and pampering you in the best silks and makeups. Nobody says anything as you silently cry during all the process. The servants looking worried but not arguing with anyone, three guards at the door of every chamber you enter.

You are caged once again.

You walk to the aisle in between a crowded place full of people who don’t like you, nor the king for the matter. They just want to appraise his old self to gain some benefits, the same as your parents did even before you were born. He looks like a nightmare standing in front of the altar, and you want to run, to run far away, back into your dragon’s arms. But you can’t, guards all around the open garden the ceremony is taking place in. You stand before your soon to be husband and have to swallow back the tears and bile, his rancid smell hitting you like a brick.

The minister starts speaking about love and marriage, and you cry during all his speech. You dream of being far away from there, as far away as possible. Or at least as close to your dragon as you could.

When you hear the people mumbling around you, you turn around, a shadow obscuring the sun. You look at the sky and sigh, so happy to see him you could cry. Maybe you would cry if you weren’t so shocked that he actually showed up.

He roars as he lands, people running in all directions, hiding in every possible place. “YOU STOLE FROM ME!” He growls, breathing fire to the sky and making people cry out in fear. You look at him in all his glory, fascinated by every inch of his skin.

“We- we saved the queen to be,” the guard’s words are short lived as your dragon looks at him and breathes fire right over his body, instantly burning him to the ground. There’s a chorus of screams and cries again, and you have to bite your tongue to stop from smiling.

“She’s not yours! SHE’S MINE!” You shiver at his words, feeling them so deep inside you think you might combust, butterflies dancing inside your stomach once again.

“You can’t take her! I bought her,” the king’s words don’t help his case at all, your dragon roaring and launching for him.

It all happens so fast, one second he’s there, and the next one the king’s head is rolling onto the ground as everyone screams and runs away. You are shocked to the core, but he doesn’t let you wallow in that. He picks you up and takes flight. You realize he’s being very careful not to pickle you with his claws. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but soon enough you are in a place you know, a place that brings you memories of joy and love… The garden.

As soon as he sets you down, he orders you to: “Go inside.” His tone is harsh, almost a growl.

“No,” you answer, not recoiling, not moving. You approach him more, your hand softly caressing the scales of his chest.

He roars over your head, trying to scare you away: “Go inside, I’m not in my right mind right now, I can’t answer for my actions.” You aren’t scared of him, though. He saved you from your most fearsome nightmare, he’s just the big monster you are in love with.

“No,” you repeat, a big smile playing on your lips when you look up at him.

“Come on, princess… Please.” Him begging in that form does something to you, such a big and scary creature asking you to go inside so he can protect you from himself… You are more sure than anything that you are safe. Safer than you’d be with anyone else. Human or monster.

“No. I want you. I love you.” Your words finally go through him, making his big body shiver, you feel it under your hands, a big shake that leaves you breathless. “Take me, my dragon.” You know adding that isn’t necessary, but you are more than ready to be a bride, to be his bride.

“Don’t joke around,” he growls, grabbing your body with his big clawed hand and positioning you to look straight into his yes, his big dragon head so beautiful you have to reach out and touch him. He scrunches his nose, making you giggle.

“Make me fully yours,” you say again.

His responding growl is so loud it makes the earth vibrate under your feet. You shiver in anticipation. He tears your wedding dress of your body, wrapping his wings around you to create a bubble, so you won’t feel a single spark of cold in your human skin.

Your wedding dress is torn off your body as he launches for your body, your naked form shivering at the cold temperature around you, but he solves that easily. He wraps his wings around your body getting you close to his much warmer scaled body. You sigh happily.

He lets you down onto the ground and you look up at him, completely vulnerable. “Fuck me. Claim me. Love me.” You lower yourself to the ground, your upper body to the ground, your ass up. You know what you must look like: an offering, a sacrifice. And you are okay with that. You are okay being his.

“You sure?” He asks again, always the gentleman, always worried about you. You are more sure of this that you were about anything else ever.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant as his claw proves your entrance. You look around in time to see him biting on his fingers, two seconds later he’s claw-less and his now not-dangerous fingers enter you. You cry out and bury your face on the mossy ground, his chuckle making you flush all over.

He plays with your pussy for what feels like an eternity, making you come twice before he starts stretching you fully. He gets to three fingers, way bigger than anything you tried before, and you can’t stop moaning.

You come again as he spits on your pussy, the sensation so filthy and so good you scream and fall over the edge again. You feel tingly all over after that, your pussy relenting under his ministrations and somehow widening further, accommodating one more of his fingers. “My saliva has magic in it,” he explains, his tone amused as he keeps finger fucking you. You don’t know if you can come again, you didn’t even know that much pleasure was possible.

“Come on, come on, please,” doesn’t matter how much you beg, he doesn’t relent.

He starts scissoring his big fingers inside of you, stretching you impossibly wide, and you squirm under him, a pleasure so big you don’t know how to deal with it, your body pliant under his actions, your brain completely void of thoughts. And then he stops and you curse him so loud he starts to laugh, moving your body and making you squirm under him. He grabs your hips to stop you from moving and you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He enters you slowly, so slowly. You want to scream, but your brain is frozen with the over-sensitivity of his dick inside of you. He can’t fit inside, there’s no way, he’s probably just aiming for a third of his length, but right now, with just the tip inside, you feel like you are about to burst. You reach down and rub your clit, unlocking something inside of you and crying out so loudly he roars as your orgasm makes your pussy constrict around him. He pushes in a bit more, and you keep coming.

From that point on, it’s all a blur of sensations and emotions, so much pleasure you are blind to the world around you. His dick is barely inside, but it seems to be enough for him, and more than enough for you. You feel like he’s going to split you in two in the most amazing way. He feels so big inside of you that you think you might die if he keeps rubbing against all your special spots at once. And if you do… You’d die happy.

“Take me. Take all of me,” that’s all the heads up you get before he’s filling you, one last thrust inside before his hot seed floods your insides. It propels you over the edge one last time, the world fading into blackness.

You pass out.

When you come back to your senses, you are laying on a bed and there’s a warm body behind you. You sigh happily as he kisses your forehead and makes sure you are comfortable and warm. You feel such intense love for him in that moment, that you have to turn around and try how well it would feel to fit his human dick inside of you (this time all of him).

He feels perfect.

[lovieku]

ORDINARY THINGS ⋆ 정국

𐙚 ordinary things, as long as i’m with you.

after a lost match, jeongguk’s only source of comfort is you.

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairings: soccer captain!jk x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: lower case intended, i wanna say that i know very little about soccer, even more about what goes on behind the scenes, but of course i had to put jeongguk in bellingham’s iconic holey socks hehe 😻, it’s a bit angsty at first just bc ggukkie is an angsty boy, but then all of it is just fluff really! hints at mental illness, heavy use of the pet name baby, they’re so funny i love them, theyre also horny! only mentions of sex tho, and sexy kisses and touches keke

word count: 6990

a/n: waaa omg i managed to keep this under 10k words who’s proud of me! this is so slow but im in love w their domestic dynamic 🙁

────୨ৎ────

the piercing whistle cuts through the air.

it marks the official end of the match, sealing the loss of your boyfriend’s team. the sound feels sharp, final, not only to the game.

you knew this was fairly important. it wasn’t too decisive on the team’s position in the ranking, but you knew it mattered to him. like every other game, regardless of stakes.

whether it was a friendly or a tournament, jeongguk had no other mode but all in.

that dedication shows in every tense line of his body now. the weight of defeat begins to sink in, and you can see it on his face, the way it affects him.

you can already sense what’s swirling around in his mind, behind the quiet exterior. you’re sure of it from how he still stands there, avoids his surroundings, keeps his eyes glued to the ground, the green field suddenly more captivating.

you don’t need words to know. he’s retreating inward, locking away his disappointment, and likely taking on more than just the burden of his own loss.

he’s probably thinking of his teammates, feeling like he let them down too. allowing it all to crash on him, the single outcome of this match unraveling everything he worked hard for.

his confidence shatters with the referee’s whistle, and it shuts down the noise of the crowd, makes him unresponsive to the comforting pats on his back from his friends. it’s all a distant hum to him now.

jeongguk is deliberately slow as he almost mechanically leads his exhausted self out the pitch, body moving without his mind’s consent.

he doesn’t care if it’ll take him forever to take these steps. if he’s the last one leaving. he just needs a moment to figure out his next move.

but can he? can he face his team without this ugly feeling gnawing at him? can he keep lying, tell them they did well, that they’ll do better next time, while his own mask suffocates him? is he even deserving of the captain title?

he doubts it, his legs moving as if the world has time to offer him, body struggling under the weight of a lifeless feeling creeping in.

your heart clenches painfully. from the sidelines, watching him like this breaks something in you.

you grip the hem of your tennis skirt, fingers twitching as you fight the crazed urge rising in your throat to just run to him.

it’s hard to find your breaths when witnessing your boyfriend destroying himself as if that’s the only treatment he thinks he’s deserving of. but you also know the last thing you want to do right now is to draw more attention to him when he’s so raw, vulnerable. when every eye in the stadium strips him bare.

and you just want to put his every piece back, cover him in warmth. your mind is made up when you abruptly stand up, hastily making your way toward the locker room before he can get there, offering polite smiles to the players who are already getting inside.

you settle outside the door, waiting.

jeongguk drags behind the others, eyes still casted down. he’s so absorbed in his escape, so lost in the act of avoidance, that you’re certain he won’t notice you, with your beating heart held out to him in your cold hands.

yet, he does find some sort of answer in the ground he keeps staring at, asking for solutions.

amidst the worn, muddied football boots, he spots your shoes. dr. martens platforms, the ones you pair with white socks that ruffle at the top.

the sight is enough to pull him out of his daze, and he looks up.

the door to the locker room closes behind the last player, the heavy thump echoing in the long hallway. it startles you, just as jeongguk’s sudden awareness startles him, and you search for some sort of stability in each other’s eyes.

his own are glossy with unshed tears, and they glisten under the harsh fluorescent light. it doesn’t help the way his vision gets blurrier and pulls you farther from him.

but he needs to see you— the comfort in your face, the one that he feels as though he can’t breathe without.

jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut, the tears slipping free, but the moment he flutters his eyelids open and meets you clearly, he doesn’t care.

his wide, tear-filled gaze takes you in. brows drawn up, your expression seems to mirror his. you’ve always absorbed people’s emotions to an almost extreme degree. when others cry, so do you. and when jeongguk cries, it feels like the whole world is falling apart.

but you can’t afford that happening, and you’ll hold its full weight on your shoulders to prevent such thing.

this time, you need to be stronger for him. swallowing the lump rising in your throat, you blink back your own tears and take a hesitant step toward him.

jeongguk, so much taller than you, seems to shrink before your eyes. right now, he’s the smallest, most fragile boy.

“baby,” your voice is a soft whisper, arms stretching open in a subtle invitation, one that he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

the moment you speak and break the quiet, the dam he’s been holding up crumbles. he crashes into you, hands wrapping tightly around your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

the impact makes you stumble slightly, but you hold him just as tight in return, focusing on his sharp breaths against your skin, wet with his tears, body trembling in your embrace.

your arms wrapped around his neck, you squeeze him hard, as if he’s a sponge that you’re trying to empty from all the dirty liquid. all the exhaustion, the anxiety, the guilt.

with the way he downright drops his full weight on you, you guide him to sit on the bench just outside the locker room. he slumps beside you, heavy and limp against you, seeking your warmth and comfort the way an addict seeks for the drug that’s able to keep them going.

you sit like that for a while, and you think it’s better this way. he has time to let it out against your chest, and you have the time that you need to compose yourself before you’re met with the full extent of his brokenness.

the second you see his tear stricken face, you think all of the effort was useless. you’re so, so weak.

jeongguk hiccups, lifts his face, his wide eyes flitting between yours like one would follow a tennis match at his peak point, searching for something, the smallest indicator of victory.

the tears make his cheeks red, and it adds to the frantic pleading he trips on, “b—baby, please. i don’t— i’m tired. wanna— home—“

“hey, gguk. ggukie, breathe,” you’re gentle when you cut him off, taking his face between your small palms to try and steady his panic, and mostly yourself. you’re fighting hard to not break too, to try and be the anchor he needs.

you take exaggerated deep breaths, hoping he’ll mirror you, and after a few moments his chest rises and falls in sync with yours, warm breath fanning over your lips.

imperceptibly, you feel his panic begin to ebb. his brows relax and his eyelids blink slower, regaining consciousness of his surroundings.

his hands reach up, covering yours as they rest at his jaw, squeezing them, and he exhales shakily, still not fully over his agitation, “i’m sorry. i wanna go home. i don’t— don’t wanna do interviews, don’t wanna see anyone. don’t wanna talk to coach. i just wanna be with you, please.”

his speech is hushed, pleading, his words slurred as if afraid you’re going to stop him, force him to go through the motions of what’s expected of him before he can beg further.

you brush his cheek with your thumb in a slow motion, moving him closer to you, your voice as careful as possible, “but, jeongguk… we can’t disappear without at least telling the others. coach will want you to answer—“

“please, love. please,” he cuts you, words trembling, “don’t make me go through this. i’m too weak now. i can’t.”

you’ve never seen jeongguk like this before.

it’s been over two years since he asked you to be his girlfriend. that night, he scored a goal for you. you knew it the moment the ball hit the net.

even with his teammates swarming him in celebration, his eyes searched for yours, locking on the moment he found you in the stands.

wrapped in your wool scarf, your face almost fully hidden, the way your eyes turned into crescents and your cheekbones so prominent was unmistakable.

the smile that you shared was sheepish, but brimming with meaning. carrying all those emotions you had both been tiptoeing around for so long.

for a while, your feelings had been caught in a slow dance, never fully picking up, but nonetheless comfortable with the motion.

jeongguk always found a reason to have you near, inviting you to practices and matches, because only your presence could give him the strength needed. and you always found a reason to show up.

even more when you easily fell into the routine that followed every encounter, evenings spent at your apartment, on your couch.

it was a schedule you soon came to love, with him making you laugh, an arm draped over your shoulder, your leg casually resting across his lap. the movies you would put on would quickly become background noise as his playful jokes turned into shared glances, quiet giggles, and stolen kisses.

kisses that felt like the ones teenagers share when they’re crushing on someone for the very first time.

kisses that didn’t evolve into anything more until that night, when he scored for you. it was unashamedly sweet, the feeling he gave you.

back at his flat, his face lit up with a grin so big it was infectious. the rush of adrenaline from winning the game and the joy of finally making you his girlfriend radiated from him.

it’s a stark contrast to his expression, now. it’s drawn with helplessness, clouded with a desperation that makes you ache.

he looks tired of fighting, of holding it all together. and it’s not just that— there’s a deep yearning, a frantic search, a needy plea to be understood, to be seen by you.

there’s nothing that truly comes more innately to you. it’s second nature, caring for him. knowing him. looking after him. tending to his physical and emotional scars. and you don’t want him to scrape his skin further.

you try to reason, “what— what about your things, don’t you at least want to—“

“i’ll ask taehyung to take my bag with him or something,” for the state he’s currently in, he still looks willing to do anything if it means getting out of here. and so, he begs again, “please. can we go home?”

you know you can’t say no to him. that’s not something that comes as good to you. not in your nature.

“this is not the way to your house.”

still in his soccer jersey, the uniform’s shorts touching his knees and holey socks high up his calves, muddy boots hurting his feet, jeongguk sits quietly next to you in the backseat of his car.

his chauffeur drives steadily, away from the hurt, and each mile puts more distance between jeongguk and the weight of the loss, the field, the pressure. he feels himself leave fragments of disappointment behind, back there.

it’s been a long time since it was just the two of you in his car. jeongguk would be the one driving, his left hand steady on the wheel, the right one always reaching for yours, a quiet confirmation of his love.

now, someone else takes care of the driving, especially after games, or in moments like these when jeongguk’s mind and body are too exhausted to handle anything more.

ever since the goal that changed everything between you two, jeongguk’s life took off. a big team recognized his potential and signed him, a moment that marked his breakthrough as pro in the football world.

then, it became a whirlwind. constant games, media attention, opportunities flooding in, and money pouring from every direction.

he bought a house — a mansion, really, — just outside the city, the kind of place he dreamed of as a small kid with big ambitions. everything about it is luxurious, grand, all jeongguk thought he wanted.

but there’s been something left behind, back in the quieter days when he was just a young player fighting for his place on this planet.

you met him before the fame, before his name was on the backs of jerseys and his face on billboards. you fell in love with the boyish version of him, the one who lived in a cramped flat, working tirelessly to make a name for himself.

you’ve been there through every step, enough to recognize the struggle in his eyes.

you so easily catch that flicker of awareness in him. the jolting confirmation that all of this is real, his orbs trembling. and when it hits, he retreats into himself, lets anxiety creep in.

he may not voice it, but you know the root of it. the fear of losing himself, of becoming someone else, of forgetting the version of him that’s grounded in simplicity and love.

jeongguk fears intertwining himself with what he always wanted will inevitably erase what he’s always been, the son of hardworking parents in busan, raised on sacrifice and dreams.

what he always had with you. quiet, uncomplicated. happy with the ordinary things, eating ramen on the floor of his tiny apartment, driving around just to talk about anything and nothing, reading quietly next to each other in the cafè you’ve introduced him to, your presence a comfort to him long before he realized he loved you as more than a friend.

jeongguk wants to hold onto that simplicity, and he wants you to be part of that. he wants you to stay by his side, to be the reminder of who he is beneath all the noise. what he wants to keep being.

because you’re his constant, unwavering, never changing. you’ve never needed him to be more than who he already is. you never look at him with the kind of judgment or disappointment that seems to follow him after every missed opportunity. there’s no pressure, no expectations of success.

in your eyes, he is just jeongguk— the same boy that approached you with a bad pun only to clumsily blame it on his drink. the one you built a familiar rhythm with, ordinariness always just enough for you. for the two of you, together.

you don’t need mansions, fancy restaurants, designer clothes. you don’t need grandeur. you’ll stay the way it’s always been, and the way you both want it to stay.

he quickly scans your face, letting your words register. your brows are furrowed slightly, pouty lips parted as if you’re about to tell the driver that he’s going the wrong way, headed somewhere other than the house he now calls home.

before you can speak, jeongguk interrupts you, his voice soft and suddenly self aware, “oh, i— sorry, i gave directions to your apartment. i just really wanted to be there with you.”

you blink at his fragile honesty. he had begged to be home, and now here you were, on the way to your own.

warmth spreads through you, and you can’t help but break into a big smile, one that eases the tension in his forehead, and mirrors softly in the grin that tugs at his pierced lips.

leaning in, you place a peck on his cheek, “it’s okay, baby. i’ve got so many of your clothes in my closet, there won’t be a problem.”

his low chuckle is comforting, and he scrunches his nose in that familiar way, shuffling closer to nuzzle into your shoulder. for a moment, the world outside fades. you’re hopeful as you think you can feel the weight on his heart lifting.

looking up, a teasing smile spreads across his face, “i wonder why.”

his playful shift surprises you, though you try not to show it. you want him to feel normal, like there’s nothing you should keep being sad over. your brows raise ever so slightly before you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, the fond amusement clear on your features.

it’s enough for jeongguk’s giggles to fill the car, an arm snaking around your waist, “it’s because you always steal my clothes.”

feigning shock, you gasp dramatically, swatting him lightly. he only laughs more, soft sounds bubbling up again, and you can feel love rushing through you, swarming frantically in your chest.

you play along with him, “no, it’s because you always leave your stuff behind after we— we…”

you trip on your words and pause when you realize what nearly slipped out, sheepishly averting your gaze to glance at the chauffeur, who seemingly looks too focused on the road to hear what you’re saying.

jeongguk’s eyes light up, his smile widening as his fingers teasingly pinch your sides, “after we what? say it, baby.”

you flinch at his ticklish touch, breaking into a grin and stubbornly shaking your head no. his laughter mingles with yours, bodies pressing tighter as he leans his weight into you, his nose brushing your jaw.

being this close to him, you inhale his scent. he still smells like adrenaline, mixed with exhaustion, sweat pearling his back. the feeling grounds you.

he hums lowly against your skin, his lips trailing wet pecks along your throat, “i miss doing that.”

your chuckle turns into a frenzied groan, and you steady yourself with your hands on his arm still squeezing around you, feeling your face heat up, “that was three days ago.”

”too long,” he mumbles, kisses slowly becoming more languid, savoring you.

when he pulls away from your neck, he doesn’t give you a moment to breathe before his lips find yours. the kiss is simple, sweet, but you can feel each beat of his pulse against your mouth.

you break the contact first, your hand slipping into his damp hair, gently brushing the long strands out of his eyes. you think out loud, admiring his perfectly framed face, “you need to cut these.”

but jeongguk isn’t currently interested in haircuts. he ignores your suggestion, his focus entirely on you, and his whispered words hold a kind of raw vulnerability, “i missed you.”

you hum, threading through his locks, “missed you too, my boy.”

that’s all he needs to close the gap between you again. this time, his kiss is more intent, deeper, as if trying to communicate what words can’t. his hands pull you closer, your chest arching into him, and in between the wet sounds of your lips meeting he lets a moan escape him.

you’re quick to swallow it, your own quiet noises vibrating against him before you put distance once again, softly tugging at his hair and finding his eyes lovingly, “let’s get home first, yeah?”

but he protests, a childlike groan reverberating in his throat, eyelids fluttering shut as he basks in the feeling of you against his lips. he attacks your cheeks next, trailing down, and down, and down, kissing you through your shirt.

then, it’s his fingers touching you under it, hand traveling up and kneading your breasts through your bra, only to slide around to trace the curve of your spine.

the sudden contact is overwhelmingly pleasuring, head thrown back on the headrest as quiet whimpers leave you. jeongguk is as hungry as ever, seeking for proximity no matter your bodies already molding with one another, his teeth scraping against your most sensitive spots, almost digging, eating, tasting.

and you want to let go, allow him to give you every last thing he’s holding onto, be selfish and take it all for yourself.

but you can’t when you know this is just another one of his escapes. he’s using this moment to drown out the chaos in his mind, to run from his pain, to bury his burdens and get high on a dopamine rush.

“baby, wait—“ in between gasps, you manage to get your voice out, but its whisper doesn’t seem to reach jeongguk’s ears, his long digits boring holes in the flesh of your bare thighs, prickling with goosebumps at his feverish touch.

in your own daze, you carefully take a hold of his face in your palms, lifting him up from the devoting motion of his lips on the edge of your shoulder, and the look in his eyes is hazed, inhebriated on the the burning of your skin under him, but it’s tinged with desperation.

behind his orbs there’s no other thought but to chase you, his only refuge, and your sweet smile only aggravates his crazed desire, trying to catch your mouth with his before you open it to speak, “i don’t want us to do this while you— you’re still mentally fragile.”

your worry is laced with love, it’s clear from the way it spills out of you, seeps from your delicate touch on his cheeks. but jeongguk’s eyes still widen in shock and shame, orbs shaking with panic.

his brows furrow in an attempt to conceal his turbulent emotions, but the city lights continuously flashing through the car windows only accentuate the glistening under his eyelids. he stammers, “i— i’m not— i’m… please. don’t reject me.”

the plea is shaky, and it makes your pulse race with agitation, fingers grasping his jaw with more intent as you’re quicker on your words than your own thoughts, “oh, honey, i’m not. look at me, please,” the way he flickers his gaze down only makes more panic flood in your veins, and you frantically search for him.

you manage to sound stable, whispered words fanning over his lips, “i just want what’s best for you, okay? do you trust me?”

he seems to lean into your touch, looking up at you through his lashes, brows still betraying him with the way they’re drawn up in sorrow. he hums in agreement.

you smile reassuringly, “perfect. then, i’ll tell you what we’re gonna do, hm?” when he nods, you continue, brushing his hair back through your calm words, “we get to my flat. take a hot shower. i make us something warm to eat. and then, if you still want to, i’m all yours. in our bed. sound good?”

our bed. the flicker in your boyfriend’s face doesn’t go missed. it’s fond, it softens his eyes, and it rushes down to his lips, struggling not to break into a grin. he pouts to hide it, and you can see he’s still ashamed by his earlier rush, his response muffled, “okay. i love you. i’m sorry.”

you coo, pulling his head to rest on your chest, drawing comforting strokes along his damp back, “i love you more. you did nothing wrong, baby.”

the both of you stay like that for a while. his cheek is squished against your breasts, lips parting to release quiet huffs, and your soothing motions run down his arm.

the quiet moment is interrupted by jeongguk’s phone ringing once again, loud and persisent, for the nth time in less than half a hour. he doesn’t even glance at the device when declining the call, and you catch the name flashing before the screen goes black.

it’s his coach calling. you stay quiet as he shuts off his phone completely, tossing it onto the empty seat next to him.

only a few moments pass before he looks up at you, his expression hesitant, a timid smile trying to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. you return his gaze with quiet confidence, nodding subtly, letting him know that you’re here with him— no matter what.

right now, all that matters is that jeongguk feels safe in your arms. you don’t care about the consequences he might face tomorrow. you’ll be there for him, just as you are now, when he needs you the most.

the moment you both step in your apartment, shoes messily discarded at the entrance (you’ll make sure to take care of his boots later), he trails after you like a lost puppy. he becomes your shadow, mirroring your every step with big eyes and a natural pout.

“take your uniform off, baby,” you gently instruct him while letting the water run from the shower head, adjusting the temperature until it’s hot enough for the both of you.

he slumps over on the toilet lid, eyes never leaving you as you move around the bathroom. when he lets them travel down your figure, a low groan escapes him.

you look so good in your skirt, the high socks triggering a weird, primal instinct in him, stirring dark fantasies that have him wishing you’d let him take you right there on the sink.

but he knows better than to mess with the plan you set earlier in his car for the both of you to enjoy the night, so he only allows himself to play with you a little, “can you do it for me? i’m tired.”

he really does seem tired, the exhaustion visible from the way his hands tremble slightly and his eyelids drop, but the look only adds to the lazy smirk spreading on his pierced lips. he knows what he’s truly asking for.

you narrow your gaze at him only to roll your eyes when he doesn’t look like he’s going to surrender any soon, grin only widening, and you pull him up by the jersey.

he complies, brows wiggling in teasing disobedience, looking down at you from his taller stance, “woah, commanding. i like it.”

“shut up,” you only murmur as you hastily strip off his sweaty uniform, throwing it right in the laundry bin. you leave him in his high socks and boxers, smacking his round ass playfully, “take these off yourself, mister.”

he’s ready to protest, to demand your touch back on him, but you shoot him a look with your raised eyebrows, “ah-ah. c’mon, and get in the shower, i’ll bring your change.”

before he can respond, you leave the bathroom. he whines childishly, slipping off his underwear along with the uncomfortable socks, adding them to the pile in the basket under the sink. he yells over the sound of running water, “you’re coming too, right?”

“yes!” you quickly call out from the bedroom, voice raised to reach him over the distance.

you know how difficult your boyfriend can be— if he hasn’t come to drag you in yet, you’re at least hoping he’s taken off the rest of his clothes. you foolishly hope he’s already in the shower, though the chances are slim if he’s not completely sure you’ll be joining him.

that’s why you move fast, grabbing his change of clothes from the drawer where you keep all his left-behind things. in your rush, you take one of his oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers for yourself, too.

when you return to the bathroom, you’re not surprised to find jeongguk standing in the middle of it, bare and waiting for you. his eyes light up when he sees you, taking the clothes from your hold and placing them on the counter, “i was about to come and get you.”

you scoff lightly, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it’s no use. especially when he reaches out to pull you closer, fingers working at the zip of your skirt and sliding it off with ease, his own grin warm on his expression.

you gently push him toward the shower, pretending to scold him, “i can do this myself, thank you. now get in, silly.”

with a disappointed, and very adorable huff, he finally obeys, stepping under the hot steam of water. you can tell by the subtle way his shoulder relax that the heat soothes him, but the tension doesn’t completely ease from his muscles.

he tracks your movements attentively, taking in the way you strip yourself completely bare, and only when you step in the small cabin and close the sliding window door behind you he sighs in relief.

jeongguk engulfs you immediately, positioning you both directly under the cascade of water. it blurs your vision slightly, your bangs flattening on your forehead.

you push them out of the way, your hands then finding his own hair to slick it back, allowing you to see the fondness in his eyes clearly.

you look up at him through wet lashes, chin placed on his toned chest, and his own is dipped low to meet your gaze, take in the smile spreading and making your dimples show.

it grows bigger when he sheepishly scrunches his nose, the love seeping from your orbs suddenly overwhelming, and you press a gentle kiss to his adam’s apple before pulling yourself away, voice a whisper, “let me take care of you.”

jeongguk doesn’t argue, complying when you ask to hand you his shampoo. you’d originally bought it as a joke during one of your grocery runs together, picking it off the shelf with a laugh and pointing out the label— johnson’s baby shampoo, made with honey and wheat extracts, and on sale too. you’d exclaimed how it was so jeongguk, and he’d let you try it on him as soon as you got home.

the joke had stuck, and to your surprise, he ended up liking it more than you did. now, it was the only shampoo you used on him whenever he stayed at your place, a small tradition between the two of you.

as you work it into his damp hair, jeongguk’s eyelids flutter shut. he eases into your touch, body going loose as your fingers massage his scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, the kind that always seems to make him melt, the one that could immediately put him to sleep.

you wash it off and repeat the motion once more, taking your time. only when his hair is thoroughly cleaned do you reach for your vanilla body wash, moving on to carefully lather it over his skin.

tracing every line of his body, you watch the way he softens more with your touch, unconsciously swaying closer.

you’re slow, deliberate in your motions, letting your hands run over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest. his skin is warm and slick under your palms, and every now and then he lets out a contented sigh.

the sounds get fuller when you finally reach his back. you press a little harder, working out the knots you can feel lingering there. he groans softly, his head falling forward slightly, droplets of water dripping from his hair onto your face.

“feel good?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

he nods, his voice low and drowsy. “yeah, feels amazing.”

his moans grow unrestrainedly louder, eyes rolling back, and you would tease him for it if the sight of him like this wasn’t having its own effect on you.

biting your lip, you press your fingers deeper into his muscles, and suddenly his hands grip your waist, tight enough to startle you.

it has your mouth opening unconsciously, brows furrowed at the sensitivity. you almost give in when his palms slip further down, resting on the curve of your ass, and for a moment you consider the temptation, but the triumphant smirk on his face immediately pulls you out of your daze. your own fingers work to move his hands to rest at your shoulders.

you manage to sound stable, but you can feel the slight shake in your voice, “hands up here, mister.”

“oh, c’mon,” he has the audacity to whine, the sound muffled by his pouty, and so inviting lips.

you almost cave at the sight of him, his eyes wide and pleading. but you know better. if you let him push the boundaries now, things won’t stop here, and the careful rhythm you’ve set will be forgotten.

it’s not just him you’re trying to hold back— it’s yourself too, especially when his gaze almost breaks through your resolve.

you shake your head, trying to gather your composure, suddenly turning off the water and sliding the shower door open.

jeongguk groans in protest at the contrasting cold air hitting his skin, but you promptly step out to reach for your bathrobe and wrap it around him.

pout stubborn on his lips, he follows you out the shower, but instead of arguing further, he surprises you by engulfing you both in the same robe, pressing his chest against your back.

his arms circle you, and he starts rubbing the spongy material of his sleeves against your body, trying to dry you both at once.

you snort, amused by his antics, “what are you doing?”

“i’m drying us.”

“this will take us forever—”

“no, see? i’m already done,” with ease, he slips out of the robe, laying it over your shoulders and tying the belt snugly around you.

then he casually walks over to grab his change of clothes, pulling the t-shirt over his head despite the fact that his hair is still dripping with water.

you roll your eyes at the sight of it soaking into the fabric and gently push him to sit on the toilet lid, “don’t move. you’re still wet, god.”

“that’s what she said,” he wiggles his brows, eyes gleaming with immature delight as he grins mischeviously.

you sigh, struggling not to laugh at his pun. instead, you wordlessly grab the hairdryer and start running it through his damp locks.

he obediently leans into you, closing his eyes and resting his head against your chest as your fingers run along his hair. the warmth from the device makes him nuzzle even closer, his posture fully relaxed between your legs.

once his hair is dry and his clothes no longer clinging to his skin, you finally shut off the hairdryer, giving his now fluffy locks a final pat.

the time it took to dry jeongguk allowed the bathrobe to work its magic on you too. you quickly slip into his boxers and one of his many stussy t-shirts you picked randomly, tying a towel around your hair.

you prepare to head out of the bathroom, but before you can his hand gently stops you, gripping your forearm, suddenly towering over you when he stands up, “where are you going?”

“to make us dinner.”

“i’ll do it. you should dry your hair, or else you’ll get a headache.”

“but—”

“no but. you already did enough, baby. i’m okay, i swear,” his voice softens, and the fond look in his eyes makes it clear he won’t let you argue further. he doesn’t even let you respond, stepping out of the room and heading to the kitchen.

a smile tugs at your lips, and you take a deep breath, the comforting scent of vanilla and honey still lingering after he leaves.

you’ve always appreciated jeongguk’s attention to detail. he knows how long it takes you to care for your thick, long hair and also remembers the countless nights you complained about your head hurting from leaving it damp. he always listens, even to the smallest things.

twenty minutes later, you’re warm and dry, stepping into the kitchen where the delicious smell of soup greets you. jeongguk is behind the stove, stirring a pot and softly whistling as he tends to another pan on the burner.

when he notices you, his eyes brighten, trailing over your legs and the way his t-shirt sits just above your thighs, revealing glimpses of his boxers. as you approach, he grins, “what’s a pretty woman like you doing here, alone?”

you’ve been with him long enough to know this is just the start of one of his playful roleplays, so of course you instantly know your line, “i have a boyfriend, actually.”

“oh, really? is he here too? can he fight?” his voice drops lower with every step you take towards him, with the last words coming out as a growl as you stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes.

you snort, “you’re so dumb.”

he stays in character, raising his eyebrows, “no, tell me. can he?”

you hum thoughtfully, pursuing your lips as you pretend to consider, your eyes wandering before settling on his again, “yes. he’ll break your nose.”

he chuckles, feigning surprise, “god, he sounds tough.”

“he is.”

with an arm snaking around your waist, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear, nose tickling your lobe, and he whispers, “but i just want you so bad, young lady. don’t tell him, hm?”

his mouth is on yours next, molding together in a sickeningly sweet, lingering kiss, and you let him find your tongue with his own, your front arching against his.

with your arms wrapped around his neck, you part slightly, your eyes jumping on every corner of his face. your voice is thick with pure love, “do you feel better, big boy?”

jeongguk smiles, presses it against your forehead, “so much better, thanks to you. i love you.”

“i love you more,” you momentarily lose yourself in his expression, and you have to blink harshly to pull yourself out of the daze before you fall too deeply into your emotions and start waxing poetic, letting your heart run as wild as the love in your veins.

you move from his hold, busying yourself with setting the small table in your kitchen, grabbing the usual pink glass for yourself and the yellow one for him.

he chose them himself a long ago, said pink reminded him of the way you blushed at his every action, and the yellow symbolized a sunflower always turning toward its sun, because, “that’s how i’ve felt ever since i met you.”

as you arrange the glasses, you almost forget what you were about to ask, but the faint ring of your phone from the bedroom reminds you, “is your phone still off? coach has been calling me.”

his brows knit slightly, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor, but he doesn't meet your eyes, focusing instead on plating the soup. “can we— not talk about it? just for tonight?”

a small gasp escapes you at his quiet plea, and you rush to his side to help him, taking the plates from him and placing them gently on the table, your words hushed, “of course, baby. i was just worried you might want to hear from him. i don’t care about all of that, i only care about you.”

a sheepish smile breaks through his composure, his front teeth worrying at his lip piercing. he looks up at you, lets himself be coddled by the warmth of your gaze, and he sounds just as timid as he looks, “hm. that’s what i wanted to hear.”

you shake your head fondly at his vulnerable side, motioning for him to sit with you, “silly. come, let’s eat, and then we can get some sleep.”

even after swallowing the burning soup, jeongguk still finds a way to tease, nudging your foot under the table with a mischievous grin.

"you’re not getting any sleep tonight," he quips, his voice low with playful intent. you roll your eyes and kick him lightly, making him yelp in exaggerated shock.

it becomes a game of back and forth, his dirty jokes pushing boundaries just enough to make you question if he’s actually serious. there’s a part of you that selfishly hopes he means it, but the side of you that knows him inside and out knows better.

sex for jeongguk isn’t just a casual thing, especially after a night like this. for the two of you, intimacy is more than physical— it’s an act of devotion, a way to connect deeply when words can’t express everything.

it’s never about distraction or escape, but about grounding one another, the flicker of something real and tender at the core of it.

tucked under the covers, waiting for him after he convinced you he could handle the dishes himself — arguing that picking a movie was just as much work — you’re not surprised by what he says when he finally enters the room.

“baby… i think i’m happy with just cuddles for tonight. that okay with you?”

you break into a big grin, brimming with unspeakable feelings for the man standing at the foot of your bed, for which you spread your arms open, “of course, sweetheart. come here, you big child.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly burrowing himself against the warm sheets, intertwining his limbs with yours. he nestles his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as if he’s found the safest place, “i love you. have i said that already?”

“a million times. and i’m never sick of it.”

“say it back.”

you snort at the insistence in his tone, words muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and your fingers unconsciously play with his straight locks as you swing one of your legs around his waist, your voice a whisper above the shuffling, “i love you more.”

he tilts his head up, chin resting on the softness of your breasts, “no, you don’t.”

brushing his bangs away from his eyes, you smile fondly, “i do. believe me.”

he huffs in faux protest, narrowing his eyes. but he gives in as quickly as he tried to argue, his cheek settling back to rest just where your heart beats, its steady beat lulling him into calm along with your gentle strokes along his nape.

jeongguk doesn’t resist it, doesn’t fight your love. accepts it as the purest form of closure he can get for himself, “hm. okay. i love you.”

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 AND WHEN I'M BACK IN YOKOHAMA

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

wordcount: 10k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, mentions of mafia business

AUTHOR'S NOTES: at last, we get the first meeting between pm!reader & double black. keep your eye out for two other cameos in this fic ;) i can't remember if dazai and chuuya got their moniker before or during the dragon's head conflict and i dont feel like going to go figure it out so for the sake of my sanity, their little duo started rising in infamy just before the conflict broke out.

“Oh, this is the worst,” you complain quietly, arms wrapped around your waist as you look up and down the abandoned street.

The city looks nothing short of apocalyptic with dead bodies littering the ground and buildings caved in. You can’t help but want to blow up at Mori for calling you back to Yokohama with all of this happening. The “elite squad” he had sent to ensure you arrived at the Port Mafia base safely had been all but decimated by an ability user with a penchant for arson—you only survived by the skin of your teeth, running as fast as you could down vaguely familiar alleys until you finally lost him. 

You pull out your phone, trying to see if you can call Mori but only fall further into despair when you find that you have no cell service and your phone is nearly dead.

Tucking your phone back in your pocket, you let out a shaky breath as you begin to make your way down the street again, trying to figure out where exactly you are so you can get to the base as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before that pyromaniac finds you and your ability isn’t exactly built for self-defense or combat—you’re not sure if you can get yours activated before you’re roasted to death by the man.

You swallow thickly, anxiety beginning to spread through you as you make your way through rubble down the street. What happened? It’s all too reminiscent of that day eight years ago when Mori found you, the death and destruction as far as the eye could see—it drags up emotions you’ve long since repressed and now is not the time for it.

You’d been unable to get answers out of Mori’s men before the ability user attacked your convoy, but it seems as if the city has become a warzone—but over what? How hasn’t it reached the news outlets yet? And who are the combatants? Obviously, the Port Mafia is one of them, and you can guess that Mori called you back to Yokohama because the war isn’t falling in their favor, but who the hell is strong enough to compete with the Port Mafia, and why? 

You sigh, kicking absently at a small rock as you continue down the street. 

You should have been briefed. You don’t know why you weren’t briefed before being called back to the city. Frustrated, you turn down a somewhat familiar alley and lean against the wall, resting your head back against the bricks. You need to figure out what’s going on, but more importantly, you need to figure out where the hell you are so you can get back into safe territory.

You peek your head out to peer around the road—not a soul in sight in the streets, but… your gaze flickers up to the buildings, sliding from window to window until you catch sight of a figure peeking from between the blinds down to where you’re standing in the alleyway. Instantly, they let the blinds fall shut and throw themselves back indoors, but it’s too late—you’ve already spotted them.

You let out a breath of relief, looking both ways to make sure the fire manipulator hasn’t caught up to you yet before darting across the street to the building. It’s an apartment complex—the door leading into it has been half knocked off its hinges, so it’s easy to push it open and step inside.

The whole hallway has been ravaged, doors on the lower floors kicked in to reveal trashed rooms. You have to be careful not to step on glass as you make your way to the stairwell, Third floor, fifth window from the right. Most of the doors on the third floor aren’t quite as done in as the ones on the first, but only one has light peeking out from the crack.

You exhale, letting your eyes slide shut briefly before you raise your fist to knock on the door. “Excuse me! Would you mind answering a few questions? … I just arrived in the area, got caught in the crossfire of some battle, I would really appreciate the help, if you can spare any.” You’re careful to keep your voice light, gentle, and you’re even more careful to make sure your expression is smooth and unassuming when you hear the lock click open.

“You picked a god-awful time to come to Yokohama, child.” You hear an older woman speaking on the other side of the door; she doesn’t open it yet, but now that it’s cracked, you think your ability will work quickly to make her at ease. “Not one of ‘em Strain decoys, are you?” 

The fact that you have no idea what she means by that is infuriating, a reminder that Mori didn’t even bother to warn you about anything before dragging you back here, but you don’t let your frustration seep onto your face.

Strain… Strain… That Australian organization? What the hell are they doing in Yokohama? Why have you been kept so in the dark?

“No ma’am, unfortunately, I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you admit, and when you hear the woman let out a heavy sigh, you know that you’ve won, sending up a silent prayer of thanks as she opens the door to let you in. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

The woman only grumbles, but her eyes are gentle and her wrinkled face is soft as she ushers you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. She’s not alone in the apartment, you notice—there’s a teen boy around your age lingering in the hallway, blonde hair cut short and glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose as he studies you with a frown. 

“What are you doing out here on your own, girl?” the elderly woman asks as she wobbles after you into the main room of the apartment, ushering you to sit down. “Doppo, go get the poor girl some water. Stop acting like a lump, boy.”

The boy looks disgruntled but nods, scampering off into the kitchen as the woman turns her attention back toward you. “Well? Don’t you know? Yokohama’s no place for tourists lately. Where are your parents?”

Your smile falters, mind racing as you try to pick your words carefully. “My father is the one who told me to come back to the city. I was… not made aware of the circumstances I would be arriving in.”

“Men,” the elderly woman spits out, looking up as the boy, Doppo, returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you and one to the woman. “Take notes, boy, you better not end up like one of those useless wastes of air or I’ll put you down myself, understand?” 

“Yes, granny,” the boy replies, and though he still looks distinctly aggrieved, you can’t help but feel amused by the fact that he immediately pulls out a notebook to take notes.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly… happened to the city?” you ask after a moment, taking a sip of the cool water and trying to make yourself a bit more comfortable on the sofa. “I haven’t seen anything on the news about this.”

The woman scoffs, waving her hand. “Of course not, big whigs think that they can keep it all on the low and get it under control before the incident makes it across seas,” she says roughly. “Gang wars broke out after some bastard with a lot of money died. Came in from all over to try to get their hands on the money. Whole city’s being torn apart.”

Interesting, you think to yourself, mind racing as you put together the few puzzle pieces you’ve been given. How many factions are already here? Who are they? Why did Mori call you back here if it’s already escalated this much? Your ability might be key in intel gathering and negotiations, but you’d be useless in combat.

“Our ward is under the control of some organization called the Strain,” the boy tells you. “They’ve been targeting civilians. They-”

Doppo grimaces and looks away, an angry expression crossing his face and you watch as the elderly woman reaches out to squeeze his forearm before looking back over to you. “Boy’s mother was killed by them the night the conflict broke out. I’ve been looking after him since.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly, but he only averts his gaze from you, looking down at the ground. 

Strain. You were right. You’ve heard a lot of them. They originated in the Australian underground, but they spread rapidly throughout the world—footholds in every major country, stakes in every major world event. Brutal and ambitious, you suppose you’re not surprised they came here if there’s as much money up for grabs as the woman assumes. 

“What ward are you trying to get to, girl?” the woman asks you. “It’s not safe out there on your own. There are no rules or laws anymore, whole city is anarchic. You go out there on your own and you’ll be picked off by Strain.”

“I need to get to my father,” you tell her as you shake your head. The Port Mafia must be in an especially precarious position if Mori is bringing you back after the conflict has escalated this much—your heart rate spikes as worst-case scenarios start to fly through your head, wondering if they’ve been backed into a corner, forced into a position where their only option is negotiations for surrender. Logically, you know Mori would never let that happen, but it doesn’t quell the rising fear. “He’s in Naka-ku.”

You just need to know what ward you’re in and-

“You’re in Kanagawa-ku right now, you’ll never make it through it and Nishi-ku—and Naka-ku is the heart of the conflict,” the woman says as she clicks her tongue. “Stay here. You’ll be safer.”

“I need to get to my father,” you repeat again, “but thank you, really, for the offer and concern… and for helping me figure out what’s going on. I appreciate it.”

You rise to your feet to leave, and instantly, the boy is on his feet, nearly knocking over the woman’s cup of water and promptly getting whacked with a rag in response. The boy winces but takes a few steps toward you, undeterred. 

“You can’t go out there,” he says, green eyes pleading for you to listen. “Just stay. Once everything’s calmed down, we can help you find your father.”

“I can’t stay,” you say quietly, wondering if Doppo’s desperation for you to stay is a result of your ability messing with his head or if he really does just have that big of a heart. You think as a thank you for their help, that you’ll ensure that Yokohama will become Strain’s grave.

The old woman makes another disparaging comment about ungrateful fathers before nodding at you. “Good luck, girl, be careful out there.”

You make it approximately seven blocks before the ability user that you thought you lost catches up to you. You think that if you die here, you’re going to spend the entire rest of Mori’s life terrorizing him as a ghost. You grimace as a wave of flames sweeps above you, you can feel the heat against the top of your head from where you’re using an abandoned car to shield you from the man, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you.

Shit, you sigh, eyes flitting around the street trying to figure out if there’s anywhere you can dart to, but the only other rubble you could hide behind is a tipped-over dumpster in an alley twenty yards away—you’ll never make it that far without something to shield you from the flames. 

You blame Mori. Again. He should’ve warned you about what you’re walking into, and he should’ve sent more than just a group of second-rate losers to pick you up from the station knowing how bad the city is. Now, you’re going to get roasted alive by some psychotic pyromaniac when you should be back in Kyoto dealing with the more pleasant parts of business—wining and dining elites to strike deals and expand the Mafia’s influence throughout all of the societal spheres of Japan.

You grimace as you steady your gun in front of you, using the broken side-view mirror of the car you’re hiding behind to try to figure out where the ability user is because if you can get one good shot off you’d at least have enough time to make a break for it. You just need to focus—the Colonel didn’t put you through all of that firearms training just for you to choke up when you actually need to use it.

Your gaze tracks the man as soon as he comes within view of the mirror. You breathe in and out steadily—once, twice, three times. He’s fumbling with a walkie-talkie, distracted, and you don’t hesitate before taking the given chance. You twist into a kneeling position to face where he’s standing, raising both arms as you aim the gun in his direction; he catches your movement from the corner of his eye, expression shifting into one of anger, but you fire off three bullets before he can retaliate.

Or so you thought.

Your lips part in shock as the man whips a fireball in your direction before he hits the ground—even if you do evade it in time, it’s stronger than the rest he’s been throwing at you, it’ll blow right through the car you’re using as a barrier.

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to take a step back but your ankle catches on a stray piece of rubble. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting up your leg and as you brace yourself for the flames, you squeeze your eyes shut.

But the agony of burning to death never comes.

Your eyes fly back open when you see someone standing between you and the fireball, the flames fizzling out and dying before they can touch him. They disappear, unable to get past him to you, and your eyes widen in shock. Who on earth… He looks over his shoulder at you, dark-hair flopping in his visible eye—he’s pretty, you think absently, even if a quarter of his face is covered in bandages. You blame your thoughts on the fact that you’re still a bit stunned and confused. 

Then he opens his mouth.

“You must be the precious cargo,” he grins. “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Cargo?” You gape, offended. “Did you just call me cargo?”

“Precious cargo,” he corrects, eye turning up in amusement before he focuses his attention back to the ability user who had attacked you. “Go handle that, pipsqueak. Make yourself useful for once.”

“Shut your damn mouth, bastard,” another male voice spits from behind you, voice riddled with irritation and anger. 

You look behind you to see another boy around your age with orange hair and mismatched eyes. He’s dressed more casually than the dark-haired boy, who’s wearing a black suit and tie beneath his long coat. He barely spares you a look as he steps forward, and you watch as his entire body glows red before he flies forward so fast that your eyes can’t even keep up with him. 

The gravity manipulator. You’ve heard of him through Kouyou—not much, but enough to know he’s probably the strongest ability users to exist in the eastern hemisphere. Does that mean…

The dark-haired boy turns his attention to you, smile widening as he leans over you. He looks unbearably amused at your predicament, and you find yourself growing more and more incensed by the second. 

“Dazai Osamu,” he greets. “You got a name, precious cargo?” 

Oh.

You recognize the name instantly, eyes narrowing, and as if he can sense your sudden change in demeanor, his smile starts to fall. Dazai Osamu. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. Mori brought him in two years ago, if the rumors you’ve heard hold any truth to them—after he sent you away to Kyoto with Kitada Usurai, one of the previous boss’s executives. 

You always wondered if the reason Mori never brought you back had something to do with his new protege—whether it was because he didn’t need you in Yokohama anymore now that he had “the Demon Prodigy” to be his heir or it was because he just didn’t want the two of you interacting. You never really minded; you like being in Kyoto and you like not having to be at the heart of every gang conflict that takes place in Yokohama but you can’t help the bitterness that rises now that your eyes have settled on the boy that took your place.

Before you can answer him, Dazai abruptly goes careening over to the left, hitting the ground hard. The orange-haired boy is standing where he once was, leg extended, and you realize that he must’ve kicked him away. 

“Stay there and die, won’t you?” he snaps, and you glance behind him, trying to figure out if he had already taken care of the ability user that had been hunting you down. Your lips part when you see him crumpled in a pile of rubble, unmoving. “Nakahara Chuuya. You can call me Chuuya. You hurt?” 

He extends his hand to you, and you take it gratefully, giving him your name and letting him help you to your feet. You stumble a bit, your left ankle buckling under your weight, and Chuuya wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. 

How embarrassing, you think, thanking him quietly before easing his arm away, standing on your own even with the pain in your ankle, not wanting to come across as weak. You make your way over to where the ability user is crumpled on the ground, kneeling in the rubble next to him. You lift your fingers to his neck to see if he’s still hanging on, but there’s no pulse.

You click your tongue, having been hoping you’d be able to take him back to the base for questioning, but instead, you let your fingers drift to the symbol embroidered on his jacket and then to the two bars embroidered onto his bicep.

Strain. 

The old lady and her grandson hadn’t been lying.

“You recognize the symbol?” Chuuya asks, wandering over to stand next to where you’re kneeling on the ground.

You frown instantly. “You don’t?” you ask dubiously, eyes narrowing again as Chuuya bristles at your comment.

“The conflict only just started a few days ago,” he says defensively. “We don’t have intel on all of the organizations that have showed up in the city. There are dozens of them. We’ve been more focused on trying to keep the civilians out of the crossfires at this point.”

A mighty fine job they’ve been doing at that, you think sarcastically, mind drawing back to the boy and old woman that helped you earlier and all of the destroyed buildings. You keep the thought to yourself, not too keen on antagonizing one of the people sent to get you out of this hellhole. 

“That’s why he brought me back here then,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else, rolling your eyes as you grab the ability user’s walkie-talkie and rise to your feet. “He’s a member of Strain—one of their lower-ranked ability users, if the lines on his coat are accurate. From what I’ve gathered, they control Kanagawa-ku and Nishi-ku. We should get out of the open before their stronger ability users show up.”

“I can take them,” Chuuya says confidently, looking unperturbed by your comment.

“I’m sure you can,” you say dryly, “but how skilled are you at using nonlethal force against strong opponents?”

Chuuya only squints at you, which is as much of an answer as you need.

“If we want actual, useful intel, we’ll have to capture one of their higher-ranked ability users alive. I can get the information out of them, I just need the opportunity to use my ability.” You rise back to your feet, gaze shifting around the street to try to figure out where you should hide out for the night. “Plus, night is falling, and rumor has it, Strain has an ability user that’s particularly adept with umbrakinetic abilities and I would rather not run into him. I am already tired and wounded, and I don’t know how your gravity would interact with an element unaffected by gravitational forces so we can’t rely on your brute force.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have attitude?” Chuuya scowls, disgruntled by your blunt commentary, and you roll your eyes.

“No, actually,” you say, giving him a thin smile. “In fact, I’ve been told I’m quite pleasant. I’m just in a bad mood because I didn’t realize Mori would be having me return to a warzone when he called me back to Yokohama. I would’ve appreciated a bit of a head’s up.”

Your gaze drifts back to Dazai as you speak, curious, but the boy is already looking at you, a frown on his lips and visible eye sharp. As soon as he notices that you caught him staring, his face smoothes out and he cocks his head to the side, questioning, eye too black and too empty.

Your gaze slides away from him onto what seems like another residential building behind him.

“We’ll stay there for the night.”

You wake up with a pain in your back and a headache. The fact that your ankle doesn’t hurt as badly is only a minimal consolation as you push yourself into a sitting position and rub your forehead, disoriented and confused, trying to remember where you are and why you’re sleeping on a rickety bed.

Your gaze catches sight of a head of orange hair lying in the opposite direction of you, pillow at the foot of the bed and curled close to the edge of the mattress as if trying to stay as far away as possible from you.

That’s right. You’re back in Yokohama. Mori called you back to help with this conflict. Sent the gravity manipulator and the Demon Prodigy after you to make sure you got back to the base. Your eyes linger on Nakahara Chuuya for a moment, watching the way his chest rises and falls, soft puffs of air escaping his lips—he’s fast asleep, dead to the world. So, you let your gaze drift across the room; it’s dark, no lights on in fear of drawing unwanted attention from Strain scouts if they see any sign of life in one of the abandoned buildings. You can only hardly catch sight of Dazai Osamu sitting near a cracked open window, one knee tucked to his chest while the other hangs loosely at his side as he looks outside and smokes a cigarette.

There’s an indecipherable expression on his face—a heavy look in his eyes and a downturn curve to his lips. You watch him curiously for a moment. 

You’ve heard a lot about Dazai Osamu’s feats while stationed in Kyoto: ruthless, terrifyingly intelligent, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It took only a year of him being a member of the Mafia for him to be given control of Mori’s personal covert ops unit, and he’s been producing staggering results since. He’s the one who takes charge of eliminating organizations that you deem unworthy of associating with the Mafia but too problematic to keep around, the one who’s been opening up new distribution and trade channels for you to make use of in negotiations and acquisitions.

You suppose you’ve been working closely with him for a while now, even if the two of you have never interacted until now.

Still, the rumors that have spread about the boy are nothing to scoff at. The head of the Mafia’s interrogation unit—they say no one lasts more than five minutes in the same room with him before cracking. You’ve heard through the grapevine that the lower-ranked mafiosos are more terrified of him than any of the executives—see him as heartless and calculating, willing to sacrifice any one of them if it means furthering the Mafia’s interests. He only views people as tools, there’s no room in his black heart for meaningful relationships. No one trusts him and the longer he works for the Mafia, the darker and more unfathomable he becomes, even in the eyes of others entrenched in the dark—people keep far out of reach of him unless they have a death wish.

You study him carefully from where you’re sitting; he still hangs his jacket over his shoulders, like some sort of barrier from the rest of the world. His expression now is a far cry from the smile that had been on his face when you first saw him; his eye black and eerily still as he stares out the window, void of the gleam that had been in it before he noticed your reaction to his name.

You slide out of bed as quietly as you can, making your way over to where he’s sitting—he doesn’t even notice your approach until he catches sight of your reflection in the window, but even then, he doesn’t turn to look at you, only tracking you through the glass until you come to sit on the windowsill across from him. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You shouldn’t sit at the window,” you finally say. “Someone could spot you.”

His eye is so black right now; you almost feel uncomfortable beneath his stare but you only raise your eyebrows. His gaze pointedly trails down to where you’d joined him and the corner of your lip quirks up.

“Fair enough,” you say and then hold your hand out, silently requesting for him to pass the cigarette over to you. Dazai stares at your hand for a moment and just when you’re about to draw your hand back, he finally reaches out to let you take it from him. Your fingers brush his as you take it between your index and middle fingers, the contact causing a spark to run up your forearm. You lift the cigarette to your lips and take a long drag, tilting your head back against the wall before you tell him, “You should go get some rest. I’ll take watch the next few hours.”

“Not tired,” he replies after a few seconds of silence. His voice is just as cold as the expression on his face, no hint of the playfulness from earlier in the day.

You hum, trying to decide what to say because he’s clearly unhappy and you have a feeling it has to do with how you reacted to hearing his name earlier, so you decide to be upfront, not in the mood for word games. 

“I think you’re unhappy with me because of how I reacted to hearing your name,” you say, laying out the issue. His gaze snaps up to you, sharp and narrowed, lips parting to deny the allegation but you don’t let him. “I was only surprised. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I have a bad opinion of you.”

“No?” Dazai asks, a sardonic lilt to his voice, goading more than anything else but you don’t fall for the trap. 

With your legs brushing, you can’t feel the familiar warmth of your ability circling through you and emanating around you, everything feels cold and empty instead, as if a part of you was sucked into a vacuum in space—the rumors must be true about him being a nullifier. You’ve never had to interact with people without your ability as a fail safe, it’s constantly active despite trying to learn how to turn it off. It’s useful though, it ensures that even if you mess up, the people around you are comfortable enough and amiable enough to not notice. They trust you without you even needing to do anything, adore you just because of the pleasant feelings your ability induces in them.

This is… different. 

And you don’t think in a bad way. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to interact with people without your ability interfering, it’s why you tried so hard to figure out if you could turn it off. And… it's nice talking to someone who’s not automatically endeared to you by your ability, who you can have normal conversation with without having to wonder if they’re only talking to you because you’re messing with their minds. Even nicer than you used to imagine.

“No,” you confirm. “I’m curious about you.”

The corners of Dazai’s lips turn down even more, brows furrowing at the comment. “Why?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A monster,” you say the word absently, watching as Dazai goes rigid at it, staring you down. “A demon. It’s what everyone calls you, at least.” 

“... and what makes you think I’m not one?” he finally asks, jaw tight.

Your lips curl into an easy smile again. “If you were a monster, you wouldn’t have been so bothered by the idea of me not liking you. The desire to be liked is an exceedingly human trait.”

Even under the dim moonlight, you can see the way Dazai’s cheeks burn a rosy color at your words. He suddenly looks years younger as he fumbles for words, gaze averting from you back to the window, but his reflection betrays him. 

“I was not bothered by the idea of you not liking me,” he protests, defensiveness creeping into his tone as he snatches his cigarette right back from your hand as if to make a point, giving you a glare from the corner of his eye. “I was not.”

“You were also very clearly put off by the fact that I had no issue with Chuuya,” you note, biting back a laugh at the squeak-like protest that slips from his lips and the mortified expression that follows. “Jealousy, another exceedingly human trait.”

“I was not jealous,” he cries out, a bit too loud because from where he’s sleeping on the bed, Chuuya grumbles out a ‘shut the fuck up’ in his sleep. “I was not jealous.”

“It’s okay if you were,” you say, instead of indulging in his denial. “I’m not judging you.”

“I wasn’t,” Dazai hisses, more insistent now. “I don’t care if you like me or not.”

“Well, I do like you,” you tell him—honest, you’re having fun teasing him.

“You don’t even know me,” Dazai scoffs, cheeks still pink as he pointedly turns his face away from you. “You can’t like me.”

“I want to know you,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you observe him. You like observing things—it’s the easiest way of gathering information. You keep quiet, you don’t draw more attention to yourself than necessary. It’s how you’ve been able to thrive alone in Kyoto even with so many vultures circling you. “I don’t know many other people my age… none, really.”

Something strange crosses Dazai’s expression. Longing but hesitant. Wistful but reluctant, like he should know better but just can’t help himself from wanting. You’re good at reading people, you pride yourself on it; it’s another reason why you’ve been able to succeed in Kyoto alone. Dazai is difficult—he covers half of his face and he’s quick to school the other half when he slips up, but you’re observant. It’s what you’re best at. 

You wonder, maybe, if Dazai has his own vultures. You think he must, he’s young—like you—and it’s probably why he uses his reputation as a shield and wears his long black coat like armor in the same way you use honeyed words and wear a saccharine smile. So, the thought must be scary to him as much as it must be appealing—the desire to have someone see him put against the fear of actually being seen as he is. 

You know it better than anyone.

“Well, you can’t have Chuuya. Chuuya is my dog,” Dazai says firmly, raising his chin. “He follows my orders.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Your dog?” you ask dryly.

“My dog,” Dazai confirms, seemingly quite proud of himself. “I won a bet, and now Chuuya is my dog for life.”

“Must have been quite the bet,” you drawl, watching as Dazai brightens a bit at the topic.

“We had a contest to see who could figure out the culprit of one of our missions faster. I won, of course, because Chuuya is slow and dumb like a slug. A slug. Chuuya is a slug,” Dazai cackles, dark eye shining as his lips curl up into a wide smile, clapping his hands together. “I’m much better than Chuuya, you see. He’s a brute. He’s never had to learn to be smart or cunning because of his ability, so he just punches things around until he gets what he wants. Plus, he’s small—and if that’s not bad enough, he is more arrogant than his tiny body can hold. That’s why he’s my dog. He can’t do anything without his master’s orders.”

Dazai is not subtle in dragging Chuuya down to boast about himself, puffing out his chest like some prideful bird and lifting his chin as he speaks. You think that if Chuuya was awake to hear this, Dazai would find himself tossed right out of the window to fall two stories to the ground, but the other boy is asleep, blissfully unaware of Dazai’s rampage of insults. 

“What happened during the mission?” you ask curiously, a bit interested to know what’s all been happening in Yokohama while you’ve been gone.

Dazai looks surprised as if he didn’t expect you to encourage his yapping. Then, he lights up again. “I’ll tell you all about it…”

You wonder, maybe, if the rumors of his solidarity and inability to form meaningful relationships might not have stemmed from his own volition. Rather, you think they’ve been enforced by the people around him who refuse to give him the time of day in fear of his reputation, because right now in front of you isn’t some twisted and unfathomable wraith of the Mafia.

All you see is a boy the same age as you eager to have someone new to talk to. 

He talks all night. 

From the moment you sat there with him at two or three in the morning until dawn, you don’t think he shut his mouth once. You hardly spoke more than a handful of times, content to just lean your head against the window and listen to him go on about all of the missions he’s had since joining the Mafia a year ago—most of them involved Chuuya, and he certainly made a show of explaining in each one why the mission would have failed without Dazai there to guide it along.

“See. This is why he’s my dog.”

It’s not until Chuuya finally starts stirring as the sun crosses the horizon does he finally quiet down, seemingly not keen on getting himself launched out a window if the other boy happens to hear one of the unsavory stories Dazai’s telling you.

Then again, his first words are pretty much asking for it.

“About time you woke up, slug,” Dazai says cheerfully when Chuuya groans and rolls over, clearly starting to wake up. His dark eye gleams as he waits for Chuuya’s explosive reaction to the new nickname.

“Hah?! What did you just call me, bastard?” Chuuya snaps, although he’s quite slow in pushing himself out of bed, sleepy and disoriented, gaze swiveling around to try to land on Dazai.

“Huh,” you say, more to yourself than them. “He is quite sluggish in waking up.”

“What?!” Chuuya demands, head snapping toward you. 

On the other side of the window bench, Dazai snickers, looking mighty pleased with himself. He looks a lot more his age now, the tenseness in his shoulders has dissipated in the hours he spent talking to you, the tightness in his face has smoothed out. His eye is a lot wider and a lot brighter, the corner of his lip twitching as he waits to see what Chuuya’s going to do next. He sits closer to you now too—or, not closer, really, but he’s extended his legs out a bit as the night drew on until they were all but entangled with yours.

“You’re a slug, Chuuya,” Dazai jeers. “A slug. Because you’re small and slow. Aren’t I so brilliant?”

“I’m going to toss your shitty ass out the window,” Chuuya booms, throwing himself out of bed and darting over to Dazai, who evades Chuuya’s punch by diving off of the window bench, nearly taking you right with him considering his legs were stuffed between yours. “Get back here, you asshole.”

Dazai’s out of the room in an instant and Chuuya is chasing after him, spitting out curses and threats. You sit there for a moment, blinking, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened before just deciding to shake your head and rise to your feet. You stretch, body a bit sore from sitting in the same place for hours and tired from the little amount of sleep you got last night. 

You’re ready to get back to headquarters. You want to sleep in an actual bed and you want to drag Mori for his incompetence and nearly getting you killed. You miss Elise too, even if you don’t really like what she’s become. You’re just happy to not be alone anymore—being in Kyoto was… stressful, at best, and downright agonizing, at worst. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even your ability was enough to protect you there, you had no friends, you were lonely and constantly looking over your shoulder because you had no one to watch your back—even the other members of the Mafia in Kyoto with you would’ve turned against you at any given chance if it meant they could drag themselves higher up the hierarchy. 

You yawn as you leave the room, hearing the distant sounds of Chuuya kicking Dazai’s shit in. You make your way to the front of the building you guys had camped the night out, intent on getting a breath of fresh air before waiting for them to stop fucking around but you hardly get more than half a step out of the door before you’re pushed back hard against a nearby wall.

Your eyes widen when a figure manifests in front of you, particles of shadows knitting together to form a young man who seems to be a few years older than you. You barely withhold a sigh, realizing that despite all attempts to avoid him, you still managed to stumble right into the hands of Strain’s shadow manipulator—literally.

“I didn’t expect the cargo we got intel on to be a girl,” he says coolly.  “I almost didn’t believe it when Anderson reported it to me. Though I haven’t heard from him in hours, I assume that’s your doing.”

“You know,” you say lightly, “this is the second time in less than twelve hours that I’ve been called cargo. I think I like it even less coming from you.”

Though you’ve heard a lot about the shadow manipulator, you didn’t know what he looked like before now—he’s quick and elusive, and those who do manage to catch sight of him are killed by him soon after.. He’s not much older than you, though—two years max—handsome enough, pale blonde hair and green eyes with tan, freckled skin. 

Your lips curve up into a small smile. “Are you going to kill me or are you going to stand here with your hand around my neck? … Just so you know, I’m not into that.”

You watch as—just as you expect—he frowns deeply and takes a step back. He watches you carefully, brows knit together, and you let your ability work. Invisible threads wind around his limbs, curling up his neck twisting into his ears and nose and mouth, they curl up to his brain and take root, leaving him vulnerable to however you plan to use your ability.

You still have to be careful. You have to be subtle. Your ability is useful but it has its drawbacks—the biggest being that if you’re too sudden with it, the person you’re targeting can realize that you’re messing with their head and pull themselves out of it. That would be the worst case scenario because 1) they’d realize you have an ability and 2) you’d be in trouble. 

So you resign to just tilting your head to the side as you smile—some emotions are fickle, positive ones like love and happiness, especially among people like you who don’t often feel those emotions. Negative emotions are easier in that once you send someone into a spiral of fear, paranoia or rage, it’s almost impossible for them to draw themselves out, but they’ll inevitably realize that you had done something to their head, which is not an option because your ability needs to remain a secret.

So you decide to just rely on the passive form of your ability, watching as he falls victim to it, shoulders slumping and muscles relaxing as he eyes you curiously. Your ability is non-combatant, yes, but as soon as combat is over, it comes out to play.

He’d made a fatal mistake when he chose not to snap your neck.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say conversationally, hands behind your back as you tilt your head to the side. “They say you’re one of the strongest ability users in the world right now.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” he says with a frown. “You’re what? Fourteen?”

You blanche. “I’m sixteen,” you protest, forgetting to keep up appearances as you stare at him, aghast. “I do not look fourteen.”

He makes a face as if he disagrees and then shrugs. 

Your eyes bulge. “I do not,” you repeat angrily. “I’m sixteen.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, amused. “I’m not in the business of killing kids though, so I guess I have to take you in. What a bother.”

Your eye twitches. You’d rather die than be taken hostage by Strain and you don’t know where your shitty escorts are so you settle for antagonizing him as a means to stall.

“You’re a high-ranking member of Strain, how are you going to sit here and tell me you’re not in the business of killing kids?” you sneer. “Your organization has been the cause of more child deaths than any other in the world.”

His eyes turn to slits as he stares at you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coldly. “I put a stop to all of the rings in Australia myself.”

“And what? You think Strain is willing to just take those losses?” you say, an amused laugh bubbling in the back of your throat when anger flashes through his eyes. Your gaze flits down to the five lines embroidered on his jacket. “For an executive, you must not be kept in the loop by the rest of your comrades. The moment you dismantled the rings in Australia, they turned to strike a deal with Bunin—what do you think your branch in Russia does there? They’re helping Bunin expand his trafficking rings through the East and Strain cuts twenty percent of the profit.”

His hand snaps forward to grab your collar, yanking you toward him. “How would you even know that?” he spits, but from the conflict thinly veiled behind his eyes, you know that your words have taken root. 

You raise your eyebrows as you look up at him, a bit too close for comfort.

“How did you know I was coming back to Yokohama?” you counter instead. He lets you go immediately, withdrawing with a closed-off expression. “Come on, we’ve both been betrayed in some manner—you by your organization, me by someone within mine. I almost burned to death because of them and you… you’ve been working for an organization that’s been lying to you for years. Let’s help each other.”

“I don’t even know if what you’re saying is the truth,” he replies tightly. “I don’t-”

“Then go find out,” you say with an idle smile, “and when you realize I’m telling the truth, well… your ability is quite handy, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me again.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression indecipherable, but after a few long seconds, he disappears in the same swirl of darkness that he appeared in and you can finally relax. You let out a heavy sigh as your shoulders slump, lifting your hand to your neck, wincing at the tenderness.

You doubt that will be enough. You’ve heard rumors that he’s Yakuza-born—only ended up with Strain after Mishima’s Sun and Steel went to war with their syndicate—loyalty is always core to those types, runs through their blood—but at least you’ve planted the seeds, and when he inevitably finds out you’re telling the truth, he’ll come crawling back for more information.

And hopefully some information for you in return. 

Your gaze flits to the side when you hear a crash from your left, seeing Nakahara Chuuya fly out of the building, hands glowing red and eyes wide and wild, trying to seek out a man who’s already long gone.

You roll your eyes. “He’s already gone. Thanks for the help, O’Great Protectors,” you say sarcastically. “Really, you guys are amazing at your job.”

Chuuya has the decency to look ashamed, face flushing as red as his hair as he deactivates his ability and looks away from you. “Who the hell was that?”

“Itou Asahi,” you say absently. “Strain’s shadow manipulator—one of the strongest ability users in the eastern hemisphere right now. Mori brought him up a few times wanting me to recruit him. I didn't think I’d get the chance considering we’re aligned with the Sun and Steel and he hates them, but I might have an opening.”

Your look over to Dazai, who only frowns at your words, gaze trained on you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re hurt,” he says, brows furrowed, and you realize he’s looking at your neck.

You drop your hand from where you’d been brushing your fingers against the sensitive skin, feeling distinctly too seen under Dazai’s heavy gaze. You don’t know why you feel a bit flustered, but you do and you definitely don’t like it.

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we head back to headquarters now?”

Dazai frowns like he’s about to protest, but Chuuya nods before he can. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Headquarters is less than a mile away now. The streets that three of you are walking down are safe—none of the organizations have made it this far into the heart of Port Mafia territory—and yet for some reason, Dazai still feels incredibly troubled. 

He hasn’t even been able to join in on you and Chuuya’s conversation. He’s had ample opportunity to considering how much Chuuya is embarrassing himself by trying to act smart, but instead he finds himself trailing behind the two of you, an outsider, too lost in his own thoughts to even think of trying to make a snide comment.

Why is he so troubled?

Dazai isn’t sure and that troubles him too.

He’s always been very in tune with himself. His emotions, his motives, his wants and needs—they’re few and far between, yes, but Dazai has never struggled to pinpoint them at any point in his life. 

He was sad when his ability manifested and his siblings no longer wanted anything to do with him. His ability made them uncomfortable, made them feel empty because it deprived them of their own abilities. They said it was unnatural, and they said he must be unnatural too because why else would he develop such a terrible ability? Dazai couldn’t really blame them, his ability made him feel empty too—he theorizes that when it doesn’t have an ability to suck up into the black hole, it starts devouring anything else it can get its hands on, like his emotions, because he stopped feeling much at all after it manifested. 

When he was twelve, he wanted to learn how to play the piano to impress his mother, though he never got the chance to show her because she was killed soon after. He hasn’t wanted much of anything since then. 

When he was fourteen, his grandfather started pitting him, his siblings and his cousins against each other. His older brother drew the first blood against one of his cousins, and it was a bloodbath from there on out. With both of his parents dead and his siblings and cousins trying to kill one another to be named his grandfather’s heir, Dazai didn’t have much reason to live himself, and he definitely didn’t want to be killed by one of his siblings or cousins. 

So, he thought the next logical step was to die, so he tried to kill himself.

He failed, obviously, and ended up with none other than Mori. He still hasn’t found much of a reason to keep living. Chuuya is around, he supposes, and he’s entertaining enough to mess with—it’s enough to keep Dazai going for now—and you claim to want to know him, so Dazai is interested in seeing how that plays out, but that’s beyond the point. 

The point is that Dazai knows what Dazai wants. Dazai knows what Dazai needs. Dazai knows what Dazai feels. And Dazai currently cannot figure out why Dazai is troubled, so something is certainly wrong and he needs to figure out what it is. 

He hears you laugh at something that Chuuya said and barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Nothing Chuuya says is ever that funny, so you must just be being polite, but it’s still annoying. Mostly due to the fact that Dazai can’t call it out because he doesn’t even know what was said because he wasn’t paying attention courtesy of his current dilemma.

He withholds a sigh as his gaze drops to your neck, eyes focusing in on the dark bruises lining your neck—the fingerprints of that ability user form Strain that attacked you when he and Chuuya weren’t around—and his irritation spikes yet again.

At once, a lightbulb goes off in his head.

That’s what’s troubling him. He’s found himself looking back at the marks on your neck on more than one occasion, and each time, it’s triggered his displeasure. He’s not sure why it took him so long to put it together, but now lies a new issue: why is it triggering his displeasure?

He squints as he stares at you hard, willing the answer to come to him. There must be a logical reason for it, he just needs to figure out what it is. He can see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, probably wondering why he’s staring at you so intensely, but Dazai just can’t rip his gaze away, fully intent on figuring out what his problem is right now.

Casualties are expected in this line of work. Dazai has never been one to think twice when people are hurt or killed in the line of action—he’s lost many subordinates to ensure the success of a mission and has even put his own life on the line if it meant that it bettered his chances of succeeding. So he should by no means be bothered by the prospect of you being wounded, especially considering he barely knows you.

“I want to know you.”

Dazai blinks as your words suddenly ring through his head again, startled by his own thoughts. His brows furrow even deeper because no, that can’t possibly be the reason why. He supposes it might be influencing it a bit because people who want to know him are few and far between, so the thought of meeting someone who actually gives him the time of day and almost losing them right away is unfortunate. It makes sense that it’s making him more irritable, especially when it’s something he’s curious to see play out and it’s something that could’ve been easily prevented.

Oh, he realizes, suddenly satisfied as he comes to an answer that he can quickly accept, disregarding everything else. 

That’s the issue—it was preventable. 

Dazai should’ve seen it coming and he should’ve been quick to take the necessary steps to avoid it. What he was feeling was irritability at himself, not at the fact that you got hurt. It wouldn’t make sense because Dazai doesn’t know you and even if he did know you, casualties are expected in this line of work. But you’re his assignment—his and Chuuya’s—Dazai has never failed an assignment before, much less with Chuuya, and he’d come this close because he’d recklessly let down his guard in enemy territory. 

It makes sense.

Much more than any of the other absurd explanations he’d been considering do at least.

This time when Chuuya makes a stupid comment, Dazai chimes in with some very necessary commentary, giving you a simpering smile and a wink before dancing out of the way of Chuuya’s much anticipated roundhouse.

Still, Dazai finds the troubled feeling returning again when his gaze drifts back down to the marks on your neck as he passes by the two of you with flourished spin, antagonizing Chuuya just to entertain himself with how red his face gets in embarrassment. 

But his gaze darts back up to your face quickly and he shakes off the unwelcome feeling, another quip on the tip of his tongue that abruptly dies when he sees your hand pressed to your mouth as you try to hide your amusement from Chuuya. Your eyes are turned up and your smothered giggles are just barely audible, the mid-morning sun casts an ethereal glow over your face and for a moment, Dazai is entirely stunned by the sight. He nearly trips over his own foot, and since he’s unsteady on his feet, he can’t avoid the way Chuuya predictably transitions from a roundhouse into a back kick.

He goes flying backward, all breath pushed from his lungs as takes the kick to the gut and hits the concrete hard a few feet away. He should be disgruntled, or he should at the very least retaliate with another mocking jibe, but instead, he finds his gaze fixed on you, watching as you finally burst into laughter, unable to contain it with the sight of Dazai sprawled out on the ground looking like a clown.

His heart rate spikes and Dazai’s hand flies to his chest, alarmed—becomes even more so when it doesn’t settle down. He rips his gaze from you to stare down at the ground, forcibly calming his heart and only when he’s sure that he’s got it under control, he looks back up.

Immediately, he loses control over it again, and this time it feels even more erratic, each thump resonating through his ears as you approach him, giggles quieting as you hold out your hand to help him up. 

For a horrifying second, Dazai thinks he might have a heart attack and that would be a lame way to go. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he does not have a heart attack, although that means he’s probably going to have to go to Mori when he gets back to the base—death may have been more preferable to that. 

Great, he thinks bitterly, not only has he had to deal with Chuuya for over twenty-four now, but now he’s going to have to go see Mori and figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Or you. He wonders if maybe you have an ability that’s somehow affecting him, that would be a serious issue for future missions that the two of you might be paired for. 

But it must be that—it’s the most logical explanation. 

What a mess the past day has been, but…

Dazai thinks it might’ve been worth the trouble, eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he takes your hand, taking note of the odd jolt that runs up his arm as soon as your fingers wrap around his hand to help him up. 

He doesn’t notice that even with your fingers locked with his, his heart still beats out of his chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re over here reminiscing.”

You roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder to focus your gaze on an achingly familiar face. Chuuya drops lightly to the ground behind you, using gravity to soften his fall as he approaches you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest as a smile curves to your lips. “I was waiting for you.”

“D’aw, did ya miss me?” he asks with a sharp smile.

You have a retort ready to fly from your lips, but instead of speaking it, you sigh and let your gaze drift across the street in Kanagawa-ku that you’re standing in. Even after all of these years, the ground and buildings are still charred where that ability user had attacked you—faded now, of course, but you can still make out the faint remnants of the attacks.

Maybe you are reminiscing, you think to yourself, a heavy feeling settling over you. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the rubble you were hiding behind, the jolt of fear you’d felt when you realized you wouldn’t be able to dodge the next attack, and then him.

And then Dazai.

“I did,” you admit, dragging your eyes from the ground to look back at Chuuya, whose smile falters a bit before softening.

“I can’t believe Mori had you abroad for three years,” he sighs, reaching out to squeeze your wrist. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Let’s head back to headquarters and have a drink. We can put on a movie.”

“Not one of your shitty horror movies,” you laugh, knocking your shoulder into his. You lean into him a bit as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, keeping it draped around you as the two of you start to make your way back to the base.

You hesitate—and Chuuya can feel your hesitation from the way he glances down at you, concerned. He frowns and asks, “What’s up?”

You let out a puff of air and then speak up reluctantly, “Have you… heard from him? Of him?”

You hate the twinge of hope that’s audible in your voice, despite how hard you tried to rid yourself of it. You hate even more the sympathetic look that Chuuya casts you; he knows who you’re talking about instantly—of course, he does, there’s only one person it could be—his lashes lower and his arm drops back to his side. 

“I saw him,” Chuuya says after a few moments. Your eyes widen as your head snaps toward him, waiting for him to continue. “... Met him. He’s part of the Armed Detective Agency now. Got himself captured by us to try to get information to help his new protege.”

“Oh.”

Your throat feels tight. Too tight. Swollen. Your eyes sting painfully and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. The Armed Detective Agency. New protege. You don’t know if you feel bitter or relieved. Bitter because he’s found a place somewhere without you, relieved because he’s alive and okay. 

His defection still doesn’t even feel real after four years, it’s not like you’ve been in Yokohama long enough to fully process it, but god… you could still imagine him coming up behind the two of you with a snide comment to antagonize Chuuya, eyes trained on you to watch the way you laugh at Chuuya’s reaction. The wistfulness hits you so hard that it almost knocks the air from your lungs—not for the first time since he left, you yearn, you miss him, you want him, and now that you’re finally back in Yokohama after so many years abroad, it’s all the more intense.

How unfair, you think, nails biting into your palms as you stare ahead.

“Do you think he’s replaced us?” You try to keep your voice light, but you think you fail.

Chuuya lets out a bark of laughter. “He can certainly try.”

Your lips curl up at Chuuya’s words, gaze flickering down to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly before asking, “Did he seem… okay?”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about that shithead anymore,” he tells you. “I’m sure he’ll come looking for you now that you’re back. Let’s go home now, yeah?” 

The thought of Dazai coming to look for you makes your stomach twist with anxiety; after so many years apart, you just don’t know what to expect… but you suppose you’ve never really known what to expect from him, so you’ll just handle him the same way you always have. Except maybe not as kindly.

But you don’t have to worry about that yet.  Instead, you smile and bump shoulders with Chuuya again.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.5 these feelings are hard to find

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 5/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.4k

a/n. aaaa this chapter took me a while because i was having some pretty bad writer's block. i seriously can't believe it crossed over 10k words, i very poorly planned how much i wanted to get done by this chapter, but i didn't feel like splitting it into two so oh wellll. hope you enjoy! pls excuse any typos we all live on a floating rock.

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

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“I really don’t understand why I’m here…” you’re grumbling as you, Mina and Todo make your way up the pavement of the driveway leading to the house party. You glance to your right where Mina and Todo are holding hands, arms swinging as they keep pace together. 

It was finally Friday after a particularly long and stressful week, so you were extremely excited to just spend the rest of the night relaxing at home. You had already poured yourself a glass of wine when you returned from your evening class and were sitting on the couch with a blanket on, scrolling through Netflix, when Mina approached you while she was talking to Todo on the phone. She mentioned something about an SAE party tonight that she wanted you to come along for and Todo said he’d extend his other invite to you. When you politely declined, Mina slumped down on the couch and told Todo she had no interest in going unless you also came. And then Todo was bribing you with a hundred bucks. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made. 

“Don’t be a downer. You’re here because I think you’ve been working hard and you need to relax a bit,” Mina chirps, now clinging onto Todo’s arm, “and there’s no better way to relax than getting drunk.”

“I could be getting drunk at home,” you mumble to yourself, the night you were imagining for yourself all day being very different from where you find yourself now. 

The guy that was bouncing for tonight’s party was scanning people’s phones and engaging in some small talk before allowing people inside. He was pretty handsome and you wondered if there was some sort of requirement written in the rules to the SAE fraternity that they must be good-looking to join.

“Hello, my brother,” Todo says as he approaches, smacking him so hard on the back in greeting that the man stumbles over slightly and sends an irritated glare Todo’s way before he regains his balance.

“Hey, big guy, are these your invites?” He gestures towards you and Mina, his eyes landing on yours and lingering for a moment. You blink at him. 

“Yes, this here’s my lovely lady, and this here’s my lovely lady’s friend,” Todo says with a faux suave that only makes you narrow your eyes at him. The man at the entrance sighs and nods before stepping out of the way and motioning the three of you towards the entrance. 

The minute you enter, you immediately realize that this party felt very different from the one you were at last week. It was slightly less crowded, but there were still plenty of people bustling around the large expanse of the ground floor with loud rap music that practically shook the walls. It was dark, much more edgy, with the only source of light being the sporadic flashing of lights over by the DJ’s booth. You felt disoriented from the atmosphere, and the smell of weed and alcohol only further dazed you. 

“This is insane,” you barely hear Mina say beside you over the music as she looks around the expansive interior of the house. In between the brief flickering lights that lit up people’s faces, you register that Todo is grinning at her as though he was entirely satisfied by her reaction. 

You only make it a few steps inside, trailing behind Mina and Todo, before feeling the need to excuse yourself to get away from the intense environment for a second. “Hey, I think I’m going to use the restroom real quick. Todo, do you have any idea where it is?” You feel like you’re shouting just to be heard. 

He looks over his shoulder at you. “There are some downstairs but they probably have lines. You could try upstairs.” 

You give him an appreciative nod and head over to the base of the staircase at the right, glancing up before making your ascent. There didn’t seem to be anyone else upstairs, which surprised you, but you figured you were just in luck and began to walk up step by step until reaching the top. The music downstairs begins to sound muffled as you turn around the railing post and make your way to the left into the narrow hallway likely leading towards the bedrooms. There's a white door somewhere in the middle of the hallway that could only be either a closet or a bathroom. You wrap your hand around the cold metal door handle and twist, satisfied that it wasn’t locked.

The mumbling noises of people inside doesn’t register in your mind until you’ve already cracked the door open half-way, and your entire body recoils in the immediate rush of embarrassment washing over you as you take in the sight of two people, a man and a woman, getting handsy with one another in the bathroom. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” is all you manage to squeak out, blinking dumbly at the scene. 

You’re quick to avert your gaze and about to close the door, incredibly mortified by what’s just happened, when the familiar silhouette in front of you causes you to freeze. You slowly lift your line of sight from the bathroom floor until Gojo Satoru is looking you straight in the eye from where he has a girl on the bathroom counter clinging to his shirt. 

“I…” you stutter, face feeling immediately hot as you let go of the door handle and look away from his shocked face. “Sorry,” you say again, this time barely above a whisper, before turning on your heel and making your way down the hallway in such a hurry that you don’t even realize you’re going the wrong way. You hear a feminine voice echo something in the bathroom like what the fuck are you doing?, and then there’s footsteps following after you that sound faster than your own. Ignoring the call of your name, you practically storm into one of the bedrooms, entirely relieved that it was empty, and can only take a couple of steps inside before a hand grabs at your wrist. A chill runs down your spine from the contact.

“Wait, y/n,” Gojo says behind you from where he’s followed you inside, sounding like he’s out of breath. His hand is still holding onto you, keeping you still and you can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin. When you turn around to face him, he’s close to you and you see his chest is heaving, his hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled at the front and there’s a crease in his brow. 

Your eyes don’t stay on his for long before you’re looking away from him again. “I’m…I’m really sorry, that was really awkward,” you say with a forced laugh and an attempt to wiggle yourself free of his grip but he’s unrelenting. The image of his fingers sliding up that girl’s top was still burned in your vision and no amount of excessive blinking at the carpet beneath your feet seemed to make it disappear. 

“No, I’m sorry, I was supposed to lock…” his trails off and you notice there’s a rough quality to his voice, “that was just-, we were just-”

You finally brave yourself to look up at him and he somehow seems closer than before, his face just inches away from yours and his eyes briefly flickering to your lips before he meets your gaze with a tense expression on his face. You haven’t seen him look so flustered before, and you’ve certainly never heard him struggle this much to find his words either. 

His other hand rubs the back of his neck as he closes his eyes in what looks like frustration, then takes a deep breath to seemingly calm himself down before speaking again. “She’s…We’re just friends,” is all he manages to say. 

There’s a silence between the two of you as you blink at him and he stares at you, his thumb pressing into the skin of where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You try really hard to bite back the words you’re about to say, but no amount of willpower could’ve helped you. Your chin tips up, looking at him more decisively, and his gaze is flickering to your mouth again. “Just friends…can’t say I’ve ever tried to get my friends naked in the bathroom at a party before.” You didn’t understand why your tone came off so hostile, but it felt good to criticize his choice of words for some reason.

His lips press together, gaze narrowing slightly and eyebrows furrowing further at your words. He leans in closer to the point where your senses were entirely occupied by him and it was impossible to think of anything else. “Well, you weren’t supposed to see that.” His eyes are contrite but his tone is vexed. 

You relax your body language and use your other hand to forcefully slide his hand off of your wrist, encountering some resistance from him before he acquiesces. Your skin tingles from the absence of his touch and you take a step backwards away from him. His posture straightens slightly, eyes continuing to dart across the features of your face and wide in anticipation as though he was patiently waiting for you to say something that would put him at ease. 

“It’s fine,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice as level as possible, “I accidentally walked in on something I shouldn’t have. You don’t owe me any sort of explanation for it.” Gojo seems to tense up even further at your words, his expression briefly contorting into one of confusion before it reverts to concern again. 

You walk around him towards the bedroom door and see him in your periphery watching every step you take until you eventually exit the room. This time, you don’t hear his footsteps pursuing you from behind. It’s only when you make it past the bathroom, not even daring to take a look inside of it, and about halfway down the hallway that you unsteadily let out the breath you were holding in. Your hand takes its place over your chest in a flimsy attempt to calm your heart down as you quickly make your way down the stairs. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew you just had to get as far away from here as possible. 

You’re barely able to spot Mina from where she stood with Todo in a corner near the backyard screen door, and briefly notice that Nanami, Geto, as well as a few of their other teammates were clustered there too. You politely acknowledge their pleasant greetings to you as you approach Mina, pulling her to the side.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?” She asks, stumbling a little bit and you let go of her sleeve. 

“I’m going to go home, not feeling well, I think I just got my period,” you easily come up with a lie, “Nobara says she’ll pick me up.” In truth, you were planning on just calling an Uber for home, but you knew that Mina wouldn’t let you go home by yourself. You didn’t want your confusing and heightened emotions ruining her night.

“Wait, are you sure? I’ll come with you,” she’s quick to say, taking a step towards you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine, stay here with Todo,” you demand, “and call me if you need me to pick you up. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” You give her a little hug and she’s standing there confused before hesitantly nodding, and then you make your way to the door. The loud music, flashing lights, and blurred faces around you were so intensely stimulating that when the cold air from outside finally hit your skin, you felt like you were human again. 

The Uber comes by in less than ten minutes as you wait for it on the sidewalk. The driver drops you off at the entrance of your apartment complex and the biting chill of the air has you wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the elevator to take you upstairs. Glancing down at your phone to check the time, you see a message from Mina asking if you were home yet. You also see that it’s nearly one in the morning.

Finally making your way inside your apartment, you lock the door behind you and text Mina that you’re home, then slide down with your back against the front door until you’re sitting on the floor. The heat inside was so comforting that you just spent a moment to warm yourself up and just breathe. 

Memories of your conversation with Gojo from just half an hour ago instantly come to the forefront of your mind and you’re shutting your eyes to try and repel the thoughts away. Still so embarrassed that you walked in on him making out with someone, your brain decides to mortify you even further by asking what if you had walked in a few moments later instead? What would you have seen then? 

You squish your cheeks between your hands defeatedly before letting out a sigh and drawing your legs in towards you, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t understand why you were so affected by what you saw. You’ve only met Gojo twice, and you knew even before you met him that he was that kind of person. He had a reputation of being involved with a lot of women, so his rather eager desire to explain himself to you just puzzled you even further. 

Standing up, you head over to your bed and flop down on it. Your wrist still burns with the memory of the heat of his hand, and all you can see behind the lids of your eyes when you close them is the sight of him so close to you, stealing glances at your lips. 

Somewhere along the night as you drifted in and out of sleep, Mina called to let you know that she was on her way home. When you hear her open the bedroom door and set her purse down on the nightstand near her bed, your body finally convinces you that it’s okay to rest, and that’s exactly what you do.

---

The weekend is over in the blink of an eye, simply not enough time to mope around in bed, and you’re walking out of your last class of the day on Monday. You check your phone pretty much every other minute to see if Gojo has sent you any messages regarding their new practice schedule for the week, which you’re sure he’s received by now, but there’s nothing. The last messages sent between the two of you were before the party on Friday, and an uneasy feeling has been settling in. You spent most of last week appreciating how helpful he was being so far, but you didn’t even consider the possibility that he could rescind his help at any time too.

You head over to the Department of Communication & Journalism building, making your way up the stairs until you reach the graduate division floor and walk down the hallway to Room 212. As you make your entry, a toasty and rich scent overtakes your senses. 

“Ah, y/n, hello! So good to see you, thanks for coming by. I missed seeing you last week,” you hear Utahime say as she sets down a cup of coffee for you on the conference table in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I was just…very mentally occupied last week,”  you admit to her, setting your tote bag down on one of the chairs before taking the seat where the cup of coffee was placed, the fragrance instantly waking you up as you take a sip. “Thank you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, thank you, just working through my thesis,” she says with a sigh and takes the seat next to you. “Just a few more months…just a few more months, and I’m free!”

You smile at her and watch as she pulls out her laptop, the start-up noise chiming before she starts clicking away at the million tabs that were open. “Did you receive the email I sent you for the newsletter shots?” You ask.

Utahime was a 4th-year graduate student in journalism and was also the head of the school’s newsletter. She has so graciously allowed for Film Club photography shout-outs in every monthly issue for the past couple of years.

She nods. “I did,” she says, resting her elbow on the table and tapping her index finger to her chin, “how come I didn’t see any of your photos in there, though?”

You sigh, sulking your shoulders slightly as you peer down into the brown liquid of your cup and watch the steam evaporate. “I didn’t really take great pictures this month.”

“Aw, well are you working on anything right now?” She returns to clicking away at tabs.

“Yeah, I’ll be taking film photos out on the field of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni next week. It’s for an assignment,” you tell her and watch as her face lights up.

“That’s wonderful! That’s a pretty big gig, they usually only let professionals out on the field. How were you able to secure that?” Utahime asks you as she tips her head to the side.

“Ah…let’s just say I have some sort of deal with one of their players?” You say. Your heart drops a little when you remember the lack of communication from Gojo as of recently, wondering if he was able to get that referee permission for you.

“Which one?” Utahime asks with a teasing smile, leaning over to nudge you with her elbow.

“Gojo Satoru,” you say and then she’s pulling away from you and rolling her eyes, an annoyed look making its way onto her face. You let out a small laugh at her behavior. “Okay, well now I’m curious.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she peers beyond the window of the room. “I was his TA when he was just a wee-little freshman. He was always showing up late to class and trying to flirt his way out of completing assignments,” she grumbles, “is he still a little brat?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking way harder about her question than she had probably intended. “I don’t know…I don’t really know him all that well.” You look down at your hands. Despite the fact that you’ve only known Gojo for a short while, for some reason you felt like you did know him well. You knew the kinds of things that made him smile, you knew the look in his eyes when he was deep in thought about something. You knew what the heat from his body felt like, what the fragrance of his clothes smelled like. 

Utahime is silent for a moment as she studies you. “Hmm,” she’s humming next to you, “well, tell you what, send me your photos when you’re done with them. If they’re good, I’ll use your photos for the sports recap in the newsletter instead of the professional ones we get sent from the school. I can compensate you for them as well.”

Your eyes widen as you look at her, jaw dropping a bit as you blink in disbelief. “Utahime…you would do that for me?”

She gives you a smile and a wink. “Of course, talent helps talent. And it’s my newsletter, I can do whatever I want with it. Besides, you want to get into the school’s film graduate program, right? I’m sure it would look great on your application that you’ve had some of your portfolio published to the school’s official reports. The photos have to be good, though.” She points a finger at you and gives you a strict look.

You feel tears prickle in your eyes from her words, so overwhelmingly grateful for her support, and can barely whisper out a thank you before she’s rushing over to the other table to grab a tissue box and set it in front of you.

“Gosh, why do all my undergrads cry in my presence?” she complains as she pulls out a tissue and hands it to you.

You dab it to your eye. “Because you have such wholesome mom energy.” 

You say goodbye to Utahime after discussing a few more things and then leave the room. You check your phone and your heart skips a beat when you see Gojo’s name in your notifications.

|| 1:43PM Gojo Satoru: Hey, just wanted to let you know I was able to get that referee permission for you for next week

You let out a tiny gasp when you read his words then clutch your phone to your chest in relief. Utahime’s offer of the prospect of getting published in the school’s newsletter gave you a large sense of purpose, and you felt like it was time to take this assignment of yours extremely seriously to secure the opportunity. And Gojo was the one with the power to help you do that.

|| 1:52PM You: thank you so much, i really don’t know how to repay you

You sigh as you make your way to the stairs, grateful that you were getting some communication from him. The big game on the 28th was next Thursday, and you really needed to practice taking photos with your film camera. You open Instagram again to ask him for his practice schedule, but you see that he had sent you another message.

|| 1:54PM Gojo Satoru: No need to repay me, consider us even. Also sorry for the late notice, but we’re having a formal practice match in about an hour with one of the teams we played against earlier in the season. Do you want to come by?

After reading his message, you quickly shuffle your tote bag open and peer inside to see that you did indeed bring your film camera with you to campus today. Excited, you type out a response.

|| 1:55PM You: yes! i’ll hesd over right now

|| 1:55PM You: *head over

|| 1:55PM You: lol

You see little bubbles indicating typing in the left side corner.

|| 1:55PM Gojo Satoru: Meet me by the art sculpture, I’ll walk you over

You blink at the message for a few seconds, starting to type out a message before deleting it, and doing that a couple more times over. When someone tries to shuffle around you from behind, you notice you were standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs so you step away and lean against the wall. You press your lips together in consideration as you realize that today would be the first time you’re going to see Gojo again after that awkward interaction that you had with him at the party last Friday, and you were really not sure how you were going to feel having to be alone with him again.

|| 1:57PM You: that’s okay, i don’t want to trouble you

His response is instant.

|| 1:57PM Gojo Satoru: Just meet me there

Once you’ve made your way across campus, you spot Gojo sitting on the concrete barrier surrounding the art sculpture by the fields practically right in front of the please do not sit on the concrete barrier sign. His head is turned away from the direction you were approaching from, arms crossed at his chest and one of his legs impatiently bouncing up and down. You notice he’s wearing the school’s colors, a teal blue shirt and gray shorts that had some highlights of a sunset yellow, as well as gray athletic soccer shin socks and cleats. He looks so ridiculously sports boyfriend that you have to shake your head to try and physically fight the effect of how attracted you were to him.

He must’ve heard you approaching as you crossed the street towards him since he turned his head in your direction. He’s wearing a black sports headband across his forehead that’s pushing the hair up out of his face and you’re startled by the intensity of his blue eyes on you. When he stands up, his arms fall to his side, making you sad that you could no longer shamelessly stare at the way his biceps flexed when he had his arms crossed.

“Hey,” he says simply, staying perfectly still where he stood. 

There was only one way to dissolve an awkward situation, and that was to pretend like it never happened in the first place. You tip your head to the side, giving him a curious look before skipping right on up to him. “Hello, there,” you cheerfully say. He looks at you with a borderline annoyed expression.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he comments, his voice sounding deeper than usual. Almost tired. 

“Yes, very good mood,” you chirp as you walk past him, “I just got a very good offer.”

The sound of the bottom of his cleats on the sidewalk follow after you as you head in the direction of the softball batting cages. It's not long before he emerges at your side in your periphery. “What kind of offer?” You can tell from his tone that he was trying to restrain his curiosity. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say as you look up at him and smile. He gives you an irritated expression due to your lack of transparency but you continue to skip forward until you’ve made it to stairs that lead up to the grassy hills. 

Gojo’s about a step’s distance behind you as you lightly frolic across the land, your heavy tote bag bumping against your hip with every jump. You feel something fly out of it which halts you in your gleeful stride and look behind to where your bluetooth laptop mouse has fallen onto the grass right in front of Gojo. He’s sighing before crouching down to pick it up, then takes a step towards you and extends it out to you. When you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you and his face is hard to read. 

You grab the mouse from him, fingertips brushing against the skin of his palm, and he ever-so-slightly shivers at the touch. His gaze finally meets yours.

With a sigh, you toss your computer mouse back into your bag. “I’m trying really hard to not feel awkward around you right now, but you’re making it pretty difficult.” You were so used to feeling like he has the upper edge of conversation when you’re with him, but now you felt like you were the one with the power.

He raises an eyebrow at you and when you look at his hands, you notice he was apprehensively cracking his knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel awkward if you actually stayed to talk last Friday.”

You cross your arms across your chest, disliking his tone. “Stayed to talk? About what? How not close you are with your ‘friends’?” 

He tips his head up to the sky and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing like he was entirely frustrated by you, before he looks back down at you again. “If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but what’s with you always running away whenever I try to talk to you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well that night,” you mumble to him as you turn away and continue to walk towards the practice field. It was the truth, you weren’t feeling well that night, and it was because seeing him kissing another girl made your stomach drop to the core of the Earth. But that wasn’t something you were going to admit to him. It wasn’t even something you were ready to admit to yourself. “Also, it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that I don’t care to believe you.”

“But why don’t you care?” he’s asking you, his voice sounding desperate now as he makes his way to your side again. He’s looking at you but you’re looking straight ahead.

You roll your eyes, continuing to march forwards. “Not everyone cares about your love life, Satoru. Contrary to what you might think.”

He jogs ahead a few steps, now walking backwards in front of you and you narrow your eyes at him. His tongue is poking at the inside of his cheek and then there’s a boyish grin on his face. “Say that again.”

“Say what again?” you ask.

“My name,” he says. 

You almost roll your eyes out of your head when you see his amused expression. “I seriously can’t believe this right now,” you’re muttering under your breath and walk past him down the large hill leading to the practice field, his gaze on you burning through your skin until you’re rubbing at your cheek with the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to physically wipe the blush away.

The practice field was much more crowded and busy than it was during the first practice you went to last week. Looking across to the other side, you see a group of men huddled near one of the benches, all of them wearing maroon-colored shirts with black shorts that have gold stripes running down the side of them. None of them were wearing jerseys, but you assumed they were wearing their school colors as some sort of distinguishing clothing that would help them during the practice match. 

“Satoru! Where the hell have you been?” You flinch upon hearing Coach Yaga’s stern voice nearby and you look over to where he had his arms crossed and glaring at Gojo through his thick sunglasses.

Gojo walks past you towards the benches and gives Coach Yaga a salute. “Sorry, sir, personal business.” He then makes his way over to the rest of his teammates that were huddled on this side of the field. There were a few tables located on the sidelines that had refillable water stations, bottles of Gatorade, towels and all sorts of other athletic gear. You walk up to one of the tables and fix the settings on your film camera before taking a snapshot of the items laid out on it. 

The atmosphere is light since this wasn’t an official match and so you spend some time fidgeting with your camera before they get started. You can only imagine how tense it must be during a proper tournament game at the actual stadium off-campus, the thought of thousands of people spectating from stands sending a shiver down your spine. Athletes were of a whole different breed, despite how wholesome and down-to-earth most of the UTokyo soccer players you’ve met so far were.

Eventually, Coach Yaga and the other coach from the opposing school blow their whistles, both acting as referees for the match, and the players scatter themselves across the field. You notice Gojo is at the center of the circle in the middle, his foot on top of the ball as he scans his eyes across the field to each of the players with a focused look in his eyes. He draws his foot back, and just when you think he’s about to kick it forwards to where he was looking, the back of his heel makes contact with the ball instead and it’s sent swiftly behind him towards Geto. Instantly, all the players begin to move across the field, some of the offensive opposing side charging towards Geto as he shuffles the ball between his feet before kicking it way ahead of him to another one of their teammates. You bring your camera up to your face and take a snapshot when one of the opposing team’s defenders makes an attempt to steal the ball. 

The play continues further, both teams playing a push-and-pull with the ball. Gojo makes an attempt at a goal before the opposing team’s goalie lunges for the ball that was flying in the air straight towards the net, catching it in his arms and then crashing down onto the ground. Somewhere along the intense match, the coaches call half-time and you’re shocked by how fast the first half went by. 

Some of the players retreat to the benches to quench their thirst and wipe the perspiration off their faces with their towels, while others remain on the green expanse to pace around while catching their breath. Your attention is drawn to Gojo who stood at the center with his hands on his hips and breathing visibly heavily. He leisurely shuffles the ball between his feet with an innate rhythm before passing it off towards Geto who stood a few feet away from him. Gojo pulled his headband off of his face, his hair falling over his forehead onto the sheen layer of sweat above his eyes. With each breath, his chest rises and falls, lips parted in a display of exertion, and then he grabs at the hem of his shirt to lift it to his face, exposing his toned torso, as he wipes away the sweat at his temples. Your eyes widen at the sight, almost entranced as a wave of arousal suddenly consumes you, before he releases his grip on the fabric and it falls back down. He pushes his hair back up out of his face with one of his hands, the other securing the headband back onto his forehead with a snap, and the muscles of his arms tense fluidly with every motion. 

You quickly look away from him, afraid he'll catch you staring, and blink at the grass as you notice the fast beating of your heart. Coach Yaga's whistle blows, causing you to look back up again. Players were making their way back onto the field and Gojo found his position at the center again. His eyes darted across the field, making their way onto the faces of each player, and then they eventually landed on you. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly into a small smile before he's looking back down at the ball by his feet. And then they start the kickoff.

UTokyo ends up winning 3-1, and by the end of the match the sun is starting to set, painting the sky beautiful hues of purple and orange. You lean over to pick your things up off the grass as the players make their final retreat to the benches, and you gently place your film camera back into its case when Gojo’s voice next to you makes you jump.

“Hey. Please don’t run off,” he says. When you turned to look at him, he was still breathing a bit fast and he had a flushed, almost serene, look across his face. “Give me your phone.” He extends his open palm out to you. 

“My phone?” You ask him, reaching for where it was located in your back pocket and pulling it out. He nods without any further explanation. You place it in his palm and he’s tapping away at it before handing it back to you. When you look down, you notice he gave a random number a call.

“That’s my number. Save it,” he says. You blink at him. His expression is soft for a moment and then he’s turning around and away from you, heading over to where his teammates were crowded around one of the tables and giving each other pats on the back.

You tip your head to the side to watch him as a couple of his teammates sling their arm around his neck and smack his chest, masculine laughter and jokes filling the air. You can’t help but smile before you pick up your things and start making your way up the hill away from the field, back towards the heart of campus. 

---

The following days of the week where you don’t see Gojo play soccer seems like a waste, because why weren’t you spending every single day of your life watching him play soccer? You sigh to yourself at the question as you use clothing pins to hang up the film photos you took up onto a wall in your school’s photo lab. You finished developing the photos from Monday’s practice match, only to realize that you accidentally took them on one of your black-and-white rolls instead of full-color. You step back to take a look at all the images you had clipped onto the string pinned to the walls, snapping a shot of the collage with your phone, before pulling them all back down and stuffing them into a Manila folder. 

The only time the photo lab wasn’t bustling with other film & photography majors was usually after sunset, but by the time you finished having dinner with one of your friends on campus, you had made it there around 7PM. By the time you leave and make it to your parked car, it’s pitch black outside. As you step inside your car and turn the key to ignite the engine, the windshield wipers automatically swiping as the control lights inside come to life, the clock on your dashboard reads 10:37PM. 

The GPS for some reason prompts you to take an alternative route back to your apartment that avoids the freeway in an attempt to save you from twenty minutes of traffic, and you consider what to do for a moment before the exhaustion in your bones convinces you to take the allegedly faster way home.

As you begin to head in the unfamiliar direction, the excitement you had to make it home as soon as possible slowly starts to dwindle more and more as the streets morph from well-lit and bustling with people to dark and surrounded by trees instead. What used to be a three-lane street turned into one, and you count the seconds between every passing car you see coming by in the opposite direction. You’re worried when your counting makes it past sixty seconds. 

You turn your music up in your car to distract yourself from the fear of driving down the secluded and dark road. There was a slight fog settling up ahead in front of you to where you could only see clearly about thirty feet ahead. You spot something on the road, blinking rapidly to focus your vision, and then your eyes widen when you realize what it was. Rocks.

You’re instantly swerving your car to the side, attempting to deftly avoid the scattered rocks but unfortunately you drive over a few of them, causing your tire to pop and you let out a scream when you lose handle on your car. One of the rocks flies up and hits your windshield, cracking the glass, and suddenly you’re driving up over the curb to the right before you finally regain control of your car and swerve back onto the road, slamming on the brakes.

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body, and you grip onto the steering wheel while you try to regain your breath. Your windshield had a large crack in it, large enough to where the cold air from outside was whistling its way inside your car, and you were slanted in your seat due to the punctured tire at the front. As you took deep breaths, you noticed how alone you were on a dimly lit street where you hadn’t seen a single car in more than five minutes, fear and anxiety surging through your body. Your hands reach for your phone, shakily turning it on and exhaling in relief when you see that you have reception, then call the emergency telephone line.

“Hello, how can we help you?” a feminine voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hi, um,” you say, voice sounding shaky, “I just got a flat tire on Musashi road, about five miles from the Main Street intersection. I don’t have a spare on me, and my windshield is cracked too…could you send roadside assistance?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the woman says kindly and begins to take down some information from you. “Thank you, ma’am. Unfortunately, there has been a big accident on the freeway, so many of the tow-trucks and officers have been dispatched to that area. It may take about an hour for help to arrive. Are you able to call someone to come stay with you as you wait?”

“Oh…” You press your lips together in thought. “Yes, I should be able to.” After working out a bit more logistics with the woman on the other line, you hang up and then you’re scrolling through your contacts. You first call Mina’s line, which goes straight to voicemail, and then you remember that she was out of town for tonight and half of tomorrow visiting her family. You call Nobara, who also doesn’t pick up, and then a couple of your other friends who go straight to voicemail as well. You start to panic slightly before calling your friend Maki who lives two hours away.

“Hello?” You hear her voice say when she picks up.

“Maki! Oh my gosh, thank you for picking up,” you say to her through the phone, your hand on your chest as you sigh. You explain your situation to her and she’s instantly providing you with soothing words. 

“Is there no one that can come stay with you? I feel awful that I’m so far away,” she says.

“It’s okay, they said that help will be here in maybe fifty minutes now…I just really wanted to talk to someone,” you say, peering out into the darkness of the night. You’re still shocked you haven’t seen a single car drive by in the past ten minutes. You pull your phone from your face to check the time and see a notification on your phone that says 5% battery remaining. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Maki asks worriedly.

“My phone is running out of battery…” you say with a defeated tone. Your anxiety starts to rise in your chest again. “I don’t know if I can stay on the line.” You scroll through your contacts again, finger halting the screen when your eyes land on another name. “I…I think I have someone else I can try calling.”

“Good, try that. I don’t want you to be stuck out there with a dead phone and a flat tire. Let me know if this person doesn’t pick up, okay?” She’s saying to you and you send her your location before hanging up.

You’re breathing heavily from fear when a particularly harsh gust of wind pushes more cold air through the crack of your windshield. Pulling your phone from your face, you click on the name in your contacts and bring your phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, almost a third time before you hear a click and then a voice.

“Y/n?” Gojo’s voice calls out, sounding surprised. 

Hearing his voice immediately causes a wave of relief to wash over you and you lay back in your seat, having to muffle the abrupt sob that threatens to erupt from the tightness in your throat. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Mm…no,” you admit to him, sniffling slightly and swiping at the stray tear that rolls down your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m just a bit scared right now.” Your voice cracks towards the end of your sentence and you silently berate yourself for not mustering enough emotional strength at the moment. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice starting to sound uneasy. 

“I was driving down this road, it was dark, I couldn’t really see much…but I ended up driving over these rocks and my tire punctured. I called for roadside assistance and they said it would take about an hour for help to arrive,” you ramble, “I tried calling Mina, and some of my other friends to come and wait with me, but-” You run out of breath to finish your sentence and you’re sniffling again. 

“Send me your location, I’m heading over right now,” he says and you hear what sounds like keys jingling in the background along with some other shuffling noises, “can you stay on the line?”

You pull your phone from your ear and see that you’re at 3% now before sending him your location. “No…my phone is running out of battery.” 

He’s silent for a second on the other end. “It says I’ll be there in twelve minutes. Just…hang tight, okay? Make sure your doors are locked.” 

You nod before remembering that he can’t see you, so you say I will. He’s hesitant to hang up on you but when your phone flashes from 3% to 2%, you tell him you don’t have much of a choice and then he’s giving you another word of caution before reluctantly hanging up. You’re all alone to your thoughts in your car again, shaking from the anxiety and blinking tears away. 

The twelve-minute wait felt so long, and eventually Gojo texts you that he’s one minute away when your phone is at 1% battery. You see headlights approaching behind your car in your rearview mirror, the first sight of another human being you’ve seen in probably the past thirty minutes stepping out of the driver’s seat and you immediately recognize his silhouette. He walks up to the passenger side door and tips his head down so he’s visible through the window. At the sight of him, you finally release the breath you were holding in before opening your car door and stepping outside. You both look at each other across the top of your car and you notice him letting out a deep breath of his own as his shoulders relax at the sight of you. 

He makes his way wordlessly around the front of your car to you and he’s studying your face intently. You look away from him when you realize he could probably tell that your eyes were puffy and that you had been crying. From your periphery, you see the back of his hand reach out when he’s right in front of you, hesitating slightly before it briefly brushes against your cheek, dabbing at a tear that you must’ve missed. His hand is warm against your skin and the sudden desire to hug him consumes every single fiber of your being, but when you look up at him, the soft expression on his face renders you still. 

“Thank you for coming,” you’re whispering to him.

He lets out a short comical exhale through his nose. “I wasn’t going to not come. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shiver as another gust of wind passes through, crossing your arms across yourself. Gojo slips the jacket he was wearing off, revealing a beige sweater underneath, and then he’s circling around you to place it over your back. It’s cozy and it smells like him.

You’re about to voice your concern for him but his voice behind you cuts you off. “I run warm, don’t worry.” 

He walks around to the front of your car, bending over to the side to assess the flat tire at the front, his hands shoved into his pockets. You pull his jacket around you tighter. “Damn, the tread on your tires is horrendous. No wonder. You should really check on them more often.” He straightens himself up and peers at the crack across your windshield. “And that’s definitely not gonna be cheap to fix.”

You sigh in annoyance, his casual tone causing your eye to twitch slightly, but when you noticed your heart was calm and your breathing was normal again, you looked at him with the realization that him just being here managed to soothe you. 

He looks back over at you with a considerate expression. “Do you want to sit in my car? It’s chilly out here.”

You press your lips together before shaking your head. “I feel like I need the fresh air.”

Gojo’s walking over to the patch of grass on the pavement at the side of the road and sits down on the curb. He pats the spot next to him with an awaiting look on his face and you make your way to him, sitting to his left. He looks down at the distance you’ve put between the two of you, almost three feet, and he’s sighing before scootching closer to you. “Don’t be greedy with your body heat. I said I run warm, not that I’m a furnace.”

His shoulder brushes against yours and his knee bumps against your thigh as he gets comfortable. You bring your legs closer to you and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin on top of your knee. Gojo was leaning back onto his outstretched arms behind him, legs extended in front as he tipped his head back up to look at the sky. You look over at him. His gaze slowly shifts from one point in the sky to the other, and you wonder what he’s mapping with his eyes. 

“Thank you for getting the referee permission for me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him in person. “I’m excited to take photos out on the field next week.”

“Sure thing, my freaky little photographer. I’m sure you are,” he chimes. 

You stick your bottom lip out in an annoyed pout. “So, we’re even now.”

He looks over at you and smiles. His blue eyes were a bit darker underneath the starry sky with less light to reflect off of them, and the quality made them look gentle. “No, you’ve gotta make sure Mina stays interested in Todo.” 

You can tell he’s just joking, but you respond as if he’s serious anyways. “That was never part of the agreement,” you say, “besides, I don’t really think that’s necessary. She seems to be pretty taken with him already.”

He laughs. “And you’re not worried about that?”

“What’s there to worry about?” You ask.

“I don’t know, the fact they hit it off so fast?” He shrugs and you feel the friction of the movement against your shoulder.

“Hmm, no. Mina’s a smart girl, she’s good at sniffing out those red flags,” you say assuredly before lifting a suspicious eyebrow at him, “should I be worried? He's your friend. Enlighten me.”

Gojo shakes his head musingly at your concern. “Todo’s a good guy,” he says in a soft voice.

“He’s not on the soccer team, right? I didn’t see him the past couple of times I was on the field,” you say with realization.

“Nah, he’s just a mad lad I met in my freshman year econ class. We’ve been friends ever since,” he says, swaying his knee from side to side. “He’s the one that got me to join the frat.”

You two are silent for a moment, listening to the noise of the wind through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. The previous anxiety you had from the night completely dissipated into peacefulness instead, and the man beside you was responsible for that shift. 

“Can you tell me what that offer was that you were so excited about earlier this week?” he asks.

You look up to the sky briefly, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Oh. I might be able to publish the photos I take of the game next week to the sports recap in the school newsletter,” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, eyes widened. “Woah, seriously? That’s so cool. Can you make sure I look hot?”

You roll your eyes and go back to resting your chin on your knees. “Sure.” 

A comfortable silence settles before he’s speaking again. “What inspired you to be a film photographer?” He’s turning his body so he’s facing you a bit more directly. 

“Well, the end goal is film movie making…but my professor says that it’s important to understand the art of film photography before that,” you say, twiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “He says that ‘if a filmmaker cannot master the single frame shot, then how can they possibly put together a film composed of a million of them’?” 

Gojo is humming beside you and nodding in agreement. He turns away from you to face forward again and he starts tapping his foot on the pavement of the road. “Huh. That’s kind of similar to something coach says during drills.” 

You glance over at him, a little surprised. He continues to stare forward with a somewhat innocent expression on his face, and then you can practically see the moment another question pops up into his head. 

“Why don’t you make your Instagram public? Your photos would probably get a lot more views or likes that way,” he says in an excited tone, like he’s cracked some code. 

You let out a small laugh and bury your face into your knees, your voice sounding muffled when you speak. “I did have it public for a while. Until a troll spammed a bunch of hate comments on my posts and I quickly switched it to private after that.” Saying it out loud, you felt a bit silly. You’re apprehensive as you say the next few words. “I guess I’m scared that I’m not good enough to be acknowledged or successful, and that somehow other people will see that truth before I can.”

“Oh come on, y/n,” he’s saying beside you, gently nudging your arm with his elbow. The contact causes your breath to catch in your throat. “You just have to go for it. You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t face your fears.” When you watch those words leave his mouth, you notice he now has a thoughtful expression as he stares ahead to the other side of the road.

Another beat of silence goes by. “Why did you start playing soccer?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a long time as he blinks, to the point where you’re unsure if he even heard your question, but then he finally answers. “My dad used to play in college. He introduced me to the sport when I was younger and I fell in love with it.” Your perk up slightly and tip your head to the side in curiosity. He’s looking down at his lap now.

“That’s really wonderful, Satoru. Was he also center forward in college?” When you ask him this, you don’t miss the way his eyebrows pinch together for a split second before his expression relaxes again. 

“Yeah, he was,” he responds, “he got injured in his last year, though. Never got to play after that.” There’s an inflection at the end of his sentence that makes you think he’s about to say more but he doesn’t. 

Your face softens when you see him stare down at the curb with a slightly troubled expression. In a moment of tenacity, you place your hand on his thigh and his eyes widen when he sees the movement before he’s looking over at you.

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his eyes. Both of you are shocked at the intimate gesture and you’re quick to withdraw your hand. 

Your faces are close, his side still pressed against yours, and neither of you break eye contact. You take a moment to study the handsome features of his face and your heart aches a little. The cold air has you licking your lips and Gojo’s eyes dart to them, gaze lingering, and you blink slowly when he leans forward slightly. Blue eyes find yours again and he stills himself, searching your face for something, and when he doesn’t see it he continues to lean forward and you lean towards him too. And then his lips press against yours, so chaste and so light that it’s possible you could have imagined it, but just when you feel his warm hand cup your face and he’s about to deepen the kiss, a loud honking noise startles the two of you and you both jump, pulling away from one another. You see Gojo’s face illuminated with bright golden lighting as he winces and holds up one of his hands in front of his face to shield himself from being blinded by it. 

You turn your head to the left towards the source of the light and see a tow truck approaching. “Hey! Is this the flat and windshield crack?” you hear the driver shout out from where his head was stuck out the window.

You’re speechless, cheeks feeling flushed from the realization that Gojo had just kissed you, and you turn to look at him. He silently stands up with a weary exhale and a calm expression on his face and then shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, it is.” He makes his way over to the tow truck and you hear him make conversation with the driver as well as the man in the passenger seat. You’re still sitting stunned on the curb, bringing your fingers up to gently touch your lips that were still searing from earlier. Gojo’s suddenly standing in front of you and you’re staring at his legs before you tip your head back up to look at him.

“Do you have any valuables in your car?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of your car.

“Ah…my phone and my tote bag,” you say. He crouches down in front of you, earnest eyes level with yours, and his hand reaches into the pocket of his jacket where you had stashed your keys. He removes only your car key from the ring, handing the set of other keys back to you, and then he’s unlocking your car to get your stuff out of it.

You remain on the curb, watching as Gojo handles the entire interaction with the tow truck helpers. When they’ve successfully anchored your car to the tow truck and one of the men comes around to shake Gojo’s hand, you see him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man some cash. You stand up in a bit of a panic and head over. 

The tow truck is already pulling away with your car from the curb when you make it in front of Gojo. He hands you a business card with the towing company information on it and then looks down at you with a mild demeanor, letting out a long exhale. “Ready to go home? You’ve had a long night.”

Exhaustion suddenly consumes your entire being and you hesitantly nod. 

The interior of Gojo’s car is nice. It’s clean, smells like him and pine, with nice leather seats that have warmers. You’re still wearing his jacket, clenching it tightly around you, as he inputs your apartment address into his GPS and starts to drive you home.

Neither of you say a word to one another during the ride. You watch his hand tighten its grip at the top of the steering wheel occasionally as he drives. He turns his car into the entrance of your apartment complex and parks in the loading zone. You watch as he makes his way out of the car to the passenger side door, opening it for you. You step outside and thank him.

“It’s okay, I’ll head inside from here,” you say, already feeling like you’ve caused him enough trouble. You abruptly remember that Mina isn’t home and the realization that you’ll be all alone tonight creates a hollow feeling in your chest.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Come on,” he says, walking past you to make his way to the elevator and pressing the up button. It dings before immediately opening and he walks inside like he’s the one that lives here. He places a hand out to hold the door sensors when he sees that you don’t follow him inside. You jump out of the mild trance you were in and quickly rush in before he withdraws his hand and the elevator door shuts. 

“Which floor?” He asks, finger hovering over the control pad. You tell him three. 

Once you reach the third floor, you step out into the hallway and he follows suit. Your apartment was just seven units down towards the right and the two of you eventually made it to the door. You turn around to look up at him. His expression becomes slightly distressed and when you don’t say anything to him, he shoves his hands further into his pockets and sways back and forth slightly. 

“Alright, mission accomplished, I got you home,” he says with a forced jovial tone, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. You notice he does that when he seems nervous about something.

Your mind recalls the kiss from earlier, the feeling of Gojo’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed up against you in the cold, the tender way his hand held your face still so he could have more of you, only for it to be cut short. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your cheeks flush with warmth. He’s looking down at you intently and you’re looking up at him pensively. 

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Not yet.

Your hands reach into your tote bag to pull out the keys to your apartment. “Yes, home.” He watches you jingle the metal in your hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says and he takes a step back. Turning around, you push your key into the keyhole with shaking hands, turning it, and open the door to your apartment, letting yourself inside. You look at him from the entryway with the door still ajar. 

“Good night, take it easy,” he says to you.

“Thanks, you too.” And then he’s out of your sight as you shut the door.

You lean back against the front door, letting out a sigh and biting down on your lip, the thumping of your heart pertinent throughout your entire body. There was a lingering truth to all of the emotions that you’ve been having recently. It followed you in the early hours of the morning, it followed you as you tried to fall asleep at night, it was present in the silence, lurking in the dark, and it was there with you tonight for every second that he was by your side.

You had feelings for Gojo Satoru. 

a/n. thanks sooo much for reading and i hope you enjoyed aaa idk this week felt off for my writing for some reason but i heavily edited it so i hope it came out okay in the end.

➸ take me to chapter six!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru

[nochukoo97]

venom

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

summary: after a nasty breakup with your ex, who was a boxer, the person who introduced you to the sport, you decided to make life easier for yourself and switch clubs. little did you know that your club leader, also known as ‘venom’ in the ring, would eventually spark your interest. no matter how much jungkook interests you, you can’t bear to risk another failed relationship, you’re still hurt and traumatised from the inside. but will jungkook manage to crawl his way into your heart?

warnings: MINORS DNI! dom!jk, sub!oc, oral (f&m), fingering, unprotected sx (pls dont), kissing, oc is a little whiny heh, i hope thats all

wc: 10k+

teaser | masterlist

When your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, had introduced you into boxing, you immediately fell in love with the sport. In fact, Jaehyun had personally trained you, he had been a boxer for many years, and he had been the one who had taught you all your skills and techniques you know today.

Little did you know this relationship that seemed perfect, both of you being interested in boxing, would turn upside down. Jaehyun had been the sweetest, most charming guy at the beginning of your relationship, but the moment you had turned 20, he had begun tormenting you, using boxing as an excuse to purposefully hit you a little harder than needed, to push you to the ground and belittle you.

The man who you once thought would be your forever partner, became your biggest nightmare. He became unrecognisable to you, making your insecurities shoot through the roof, degrading you to the lowest of the lowest.

Hell, you didn’t know how you managed to put through months of that treatment, before one day you eventually snapped after spotting Jaehyun with another girl from the club, Jisan, at the gym late at night kissing.

It broke your heart, but at the same time you knew that it would be dumb to stay on and even try to forgive him, no matter how many times he had begged at your feet to stay, claiming he would change and be a better boyfriend to you.

That’s how you find yourself trailing behind Jimin, the man who had offered you to join their club.

You researched beforehand, Jeon Jungkook, leader of the club, ring name ‘Venom’, he’s won too many competitions to count.

“Don’t worry, most of the guys here are pretty friendly, there’s another girl here too, so you won’t be alone either,” The man you follow tells you, he had introduced himself to you, Jimin, saying that he was one of the members of the club.

“That’s nice to hear, I didn’t really have good company at my old club,” You let a smile out, Jimin seemed friendly and approachable, your new start was already looking good in your eyes.

“Anyways, this is where we train,” He leads you through a glass door, the familiar sounds of heavy breathing and sand bags being punched immediately reach your ears, it’s almost satisfying, being back in boxing after a month of break.

“And that’s our team leader over there, we call him Venom in the ring,” He chuckles, head nodding towards the man going at the black sandbag.

You watch as he goes at the punching bag, eyes narrowed, focused, his black gloves attack the bag, the gold lettering on the gloves spells out his nickname, ‘Venom’.

“Jeon! New girl is here!” He calls out, making the man halt, turning to look at the both of you. Jimin’s words attracted the other members, there were a few who rushed to you before the team leader did.

“Damn, we got a pretty one,” The guy nearest to you nudgest your arm playfully, as you blink, unsure of how to react.

“Tae, stop it,�� Jimin nudges the guy back, “Sorry, he’s usually like that, he doesn’t have the intention to make you uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“Leave her alone, go back to what you were doing,” You spot Jungkook pushing the guys away, grumbling as he approaches you.

Or should you not call him Jungkook? Maybe it was disrespectful.

“___?” You whip your head up to meet his gaze as he calls you, more in a questioning sort of way.

“Yes,”

“I’ve heard good stuff about you,” His stance towers over you, it makes you a little wary of his already brooding aura.

“I want to see her skills,” He tells Jimin, who nods in response.

“You ready? This is your first test to see if you can truly survive here, I’m not gonna go easy on you,” He warns you, tightening the strap on his gloves.

“I’m ready,” You walk over to your bag sitting at the corner of the room, fetching your gloves as you quickly wrap your hands and put the gloves on.

-

To say Jungkook was impressed, was an understatement. Hell, he did not expect you to dodge and hit every attack so precisely.

“You did well, good job,” He tells you, removing his gloves and watching as you smile back at him, panting slightly as you bow.

“What on earth did I just hear,” Another guy deadpans from the side, jaw dropping to the ground.

“There’s no way Jeon just let out a praise,” He gasps, “Come on man, in my six years of knowing you you’ve never complimented me once!”

“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles back at him.

You make eye contact with Jimin, who also seems amused at the team leader’s behaviour. Was he not acting normal? Why was everyone so amazed by his words?

“I gotta say, ___, that was impressive, I’m Yoongi,” Another man, around the same height as Jimin, approaches you, extending a hand. You politely bow, shaking his hand.

It seems like joining this club wasn’t so bad after all, it seemed like a welcoming place with good support already.

-

unknown number: hi __, this is jungkook, jimin passed me your number.

unknown number: come early tmr, you’re gonna meet your trainer.

You pick up your phone, the screen lighting up caught your attention.

you: okay, thanks.

The next day you quickly head towards the club, grabbing a quick breakfast along the way. Before you push open the glass door to the entrance, you spot Jungkook training with another man whom you had not seen previously.

“___, come,” He calls out to you, heaving when he abruptly stops punching the mitts, “This is Woojae, he’s my personal trainer and I want you to train with him,”

WHAT?. Jungkook’s personal trainer?

“I’ve told him not to go easy on you, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you’re weaker than anyone else here, am I right?” He leans closer, whispering into your ear as his hand clasps around your arm.

“Yes,” You almost shudder at the close proximity, you’ve never felt this intimidated by someone before. To be honest, you were proud of your strong aura that you carried while boxing, not afraid to spar with even the burliest of team mates. Yet somehow Jungkook, or Venom, had a different effect on you.

“Hi ___, nice to meet you,” Woojae, quickly shrugs off the mitt on his hand, shaking your hand.

“I’ll finish up here with Jeon and then I’ll analyse your performance ‘kay?” He tells you, while putting the mitts back on, you nod your head, taking a seat on the floor to watch while wrapping up your hands.

You noticed Jungkook’s eyes had a different glint in it whenever he began boxing. The way his eyes would narrow, focused on whatever was in front of him, the grunts he let out after releasing a strong punch, his heavy breathing filling the air.

It was fascinating to you, having always dreamt of being in Jungkook’s position. But being a female in a male dominated sport was hard, if you were lucky, you had competitions with other females. But the majority of them were still males. Yet you didn’t feel this was a disadvantage, after all you still managed to win.

“___, your turn,” Woojae calls you out, as you quickly get up, getting onto the mat.

The first few minutes of sparring was not bad, it definitely wasn’t easy considering you could tell Woojae was not going easy on you. His attacks back at you were much more complicated, it often took you by surprise.

WACK.

You don’t even realise what’s happening before Woojae’s glove comes into contact with your left cheek.

A groan emits from your throat, hand reaching up to touch the area with your gloves.

“Gonna give up? Or are you gonna continue to fight like a strong fighter?” Woojae nudges you a little harshly with his glove, he definitely was not going easy on you.

But still, who were you to give up? You’ve been hit multiple times before, but this time it simply felt different. With your team leader’s gaze trained on you.

You quickly get back into your starting position, attacking back at Woojae. With each punch you throw, your ponytail swishes slightly, a pant comes out from your mouth.

Jungkook notices the change in your demeanour, you have this determined look in your eyes, hands up and ready to fight back. It’s impressive to him.

You weren’t about to give up so easily. You were gonna prove you are worthy of being in this club.

-

“___, out of my many years of knowing Jeon, he’s never once offered anyone else his personal trainer,” Mingyu, another team member whom you had recently gotten to know, whispers as he gazes to where Jungkook was, punching a sandbag.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” You wave him off, chuckling, “Maybe he just wants to toughen me up with training so he assigned the same trainer?”

“Nah, I think you’re different. The other girl here, Yubin, she’s currently on holiday, but she practically begged Jeon to train with her and his trainer,” He starts, “It’s like a miracle to see him like this,”

Hoseok, you came to learnt who was also another teammate, leans in to join your conversation, “Yeah, and just warning you, shes like fucking delusional about him, our leader gets so annoyed whenever she clings onto him,” He laughs, as you nod, eyebrows slightly raised at the new information.

“___, I’ll start with you today,” Woojae comes up to you, reaching out a hand to pull you up from where you were sitting on the floor.

“Have fun!” Hoseok calls out, as you laugh at him, turning back to trail behind your trainer.

-

You had been told today was a match between Jungkook and someone else from a neighbouring team,

“That guy’s name is Eunwoo, he used to be best friends with Jeon, but they’re aren’t on the best of terms,” Jimin tells you, pointing towards the other guy in the ring, “Jeon’s in for a lot of money,”

Another thing you learnt was that Jungkook and Eunwoo had fought before, and after Jungkook had won, Eunwoo insisted on a rematch immediately.

The match was held at your club’s gym, people from different clubs surrounded the ring, chatters filled the room and both guys prepared in their own rooms. It seemed to be a huge thing, considering even though it was only two clubs fighting, there were at least five others who came to watch.

“Okay! Settle down, we’re starting now,” The announcer spoke through the microphone, catching everyone’s attention as the noise reduced to mutters.

“First, we have the one and only ‘Venom’, the previous champion!” Jungkook enters the ring, with Namjoon by his side, another team member. His eyes are trained on his opponent, who was currently outside the ring, preparing to enter.

“Next, it’s Eunwoo, who challenged Jeon back for a rematch, he seems prepared today,” Eunwoo enters the ring with his cornerman, chest puffed out as he approaches Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again Jeon, hope you’ll enjoy the taste of defeat today,” He sneers, coming a little too close to Jungkook for his liking.

“Fuck off, you better watch what you say,” Jungkook grits his teeth, his black mouth guard showing as he shoves Eunwoo back to remain a distance.

The crowd releases a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘damns’, as Namjoon pulls Jungkook a little further back, in an attempt to call him down.

The bell rings, both cornermen step aside, as Jungkook and Eunwoo approach each other, both their fists kept up.

Eunwoo launches the first attack, jabbing at Jungkook who blocks all the attacks, his fists remain up, not faltering once.

But throughout, Jungkook doesn’t attack back at Eunwoo, he only dodges and defends all his attacks, making the crowd confused.

“What the hell is Jeon doing? I placed so much fucking money on that guy, is he wimping out?”

“What’s going on with Venom today? I’ve never seen him like this,”

“Jeon, are you being a pussy? Gonna lose that ‘Venom’ title?” Eunwoo provokes, but Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only glares at him, dodging another punch.

“Why is he not attacking back?” You turn to Jimin, who’s sitting beside you.

“He’s using a new technique, but it’s surprising, he’s never practiced this before and it’s usually discouraged,” Jimin turns to face you, “He’s basically trying to tire Eunwoo out and conserve his energy till the last minute,”

Your mouth opens to form an ‘o’, nodding your head as you watch Eunwoo continuously provoke Jungkook.

“Come on! Are you sure you’re just gonna put your fucking hands up and dodge my attacks? Why? Too fucking weak to even attack back, what happened to you Jeon?” Eunwoo spits in his face, laughing while pulling his hand down to jab Jungkook in the rib, making him falter back and groan.

“Shit, he got hit pretty hard there,” Hoseok mutters beside you.

“Or is it because of that new girl in your club huh? Fancy her? Maybe when I win, I’ll ask the pretty girl to come and kiss me on the cheek, huh? Would you like that?” You stiffen at the mention, some people amongst the crowd letting out reactions and turning their gaze to you.

That was all it took for Jungkook to growl back at Eunwoo, deciding he was done playing games with the guy and waiting for him to tire out.

Jungkook quickly regains his composure, this time he isn’t waiting to tire the guy out anymore, instead he throws full-blown jabs back at Eunwoo, grunting harshly.

“Fuck! That really got you going huh?” Eunwoo attempts to dodge, slowly losing his energy.

“Eunwoo! What the fuck are you doing! Wake up!” His coach yells from the crowd, watching as Eunwoo takes a hit from your team leader.

Jungkook sends a jab to Eunwoo’s rib, causing him to falter, his glove makes contact with Eunwoo’s jaw, watching as the guy falls to the floor, groaning.

“Are you gonna get up? Or accept that I’ll always win you,” Jungkook sneers, launching another jab to the guy’s rib.

“10, 9, 8, 7,” The announcer begins counting down into the mic, Eunwoo attempts to get back up, but groans as his arms give way and fall back to the ground.

“Awww, gonna accept defeat again like the last time?” Jungkook leans down, pressing his glove into Eunwoo’s torso.

“Fuck- Off,” Eunwoo grunts, using all the strength he has left to push Jungkook off him.

“6, 5, 4,” The cheers begin filling the room, “3, 2, 1!”

“Venom takes the championship again! Jungkook wins the match!” The announcer lifts Jungkook’s arm up, signaling victory.

The room bursts into cheers and Jungkook smirks, turning to face his club. Eunwoo’s team on the other hand seemed the opposite, having lost all the money bet on him.

“Try again next time, huh Eunwoo?” Jungkook turns to his opponent, laughing as he exits the ring.

Eunwoo can only mutter curses under his breath, his cornerman quickly aiding him to stand up.

“___,” You hear Jungkook’s voice call out to you, as you whip your head up to face him.

“Did I do good today?” He leans down to whisper into your ear, as you shudder, his hot breath fanning onto your skin, “Hmm?”

Your cheeks are flushed, as Jungkook pulls back to read your expression. Why was he suddenly being so bold in front of so many people?

Of course, people amongst the crowd noticed this, they sent a few reactions, which made you even more embarrassed at the sudden attention.

“Yeah, you did great,” You can’t even look him in the eye, eyes trained on his chest, heaving heavily as he catches his breath.

Jungkook nudges your chin fondly, chuckling as he pats your head, heading over to his room to change and cool down.

“I’ve never seen our team leader do that in my whole life, what’s going on,” Jimin nudges you from the side, as the rest of your club members join in agreeing.

“Honestly, I don’t know either,” You mutter, cheeks still tainted a bright red from the previous situation.

-

“Hi! I’m Yubin! Nice to meet you, seems like I’ll finally have a friend,” The girl in front of you seems more friendly than you had expected. When Hoseok had mentioned Yubin to you, you had initially thought that she would be snarky and mean, maybe she wasn’t as bad as she seems.

Okay nevermind, you’ve definitely made an assumption way too early.

“Kookie, can you please help me hold my mitt?” You watch, wincing slightly at the scene before you. Yubin is clinging onto Jungkook’s arm, the tattooed one, as she holds out the mitts in front of her.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grunts, shoving Yubin away from him.

She doesn’t take this too well, whining as she dramatically pouts in front of him, “Please? I want to train with you,”

Jimin cringes from the side, nudging your shoulder to check if you were witnessing the scene unfold before you. Oh, for sure you were.

“I can’t, I’m gonna start training,” He turns away from the girl, grunting under his breath.

“___, come here,” When Woojae suddenly calls you out, you whip your head up, grabbing your gloves and the wrap and heading towards him. The trainer makes Jungkook hold on to your mitts, to which Jungkook doesn’t reject.

Yubin doesn’t like this one bit, she immediately drops her jaw in shock, glaring straight at you as you approach the man.

“I need to wrap my hands first, hold on,” You tell Woojae, dropping your gloves to wrap your hands.

“Bring it here, I’ll do it,” Jungkook takes the roll from you, skillfully wrapping up your hand quickly.

“Kookie, how is that fair?” Yubin whines from the side, standing beside the both of you as she watches Jungkook finish up wrapping your hands.

“Yubin, get out, I’m trying to train with her,” He turns to glare at the girl, making her cower away.

“That’s so unfair, suddenly she comes in and has all his attention,” Yubin mutters under her breath as she walks away, but you manage to catch that. It somehow makes you proud inside.

-

“I want to spar with ___,” Yubin announces, as Jungkook crosses his arms, frowning at the girl sitting across from him. Most of the guys were sitting around at the couch, right before practice. Today was meant to be a more laid back practice, so it meant the trainers were not in the gym today.

“Why?” Jungkook questions the girl, “I’m not sure you’re at her level yet,”

Yubin gasps, purely offended at that, she stands up, declaring, “Don’t care, gonna spar with her today, I’ll tell her when she arrives.”

The sudden news definitely shocks you when you enter the gym, but nonetheless you still accept it, putting on your gloves and getting into the ring.

To your surprise, since you weren’t aware of what her level was, you managed to get her on the floor easily within the first few minutes of sparring. One jab to her rib and she had already landed on the ground, unable to get up.

“I think I broke my rib,” She sobs, sounds rather fake to you, but you still rush to her side, apologising as you ask her where it hurts.

“Piss off, you purposefully hurt me,” She grunts, launching a punch to your face unexpectedly.

You only feel the harsh contact between her glove and your nose, a loud crunch sounding out as you groan.

“Fuck, are you okay? Hey! Someone get a towel, she's bleeding quite badly!” You can hear Jimin yell, as someone scurries to retrieve the towel

Pain sears through your face, your nose throbs as you wince, hissing at the pain.

When you open your eyes, there’s a puddle of blood in front of you, blood dripping down from your nose as you quickly remove your gloves.

And yet Yubin has the audacity to fake whine, “Guys, I literally broke my rib here and you’re all attending to her?”

“Yubin, your rib is fine, I felt it just now, there isn’t even a bruise so quit complaining,” Tae groans, nudging the girl to get up from the floor.

“I’ll do it,” Jungkook comes back with a wet cloth, but pulls it away from Jimin’s grasp when he tries to take it.

“What?” Jimin is dumbfounded as he watches Jungkook carefully grab your chin, making you turn to face him as he wipes off the blood from your face.

“What the hell is going on…” Hoseok mutters, watching in awe as Jungkook, the man known for his powerful and brooding aura, tenderly wipes your face with a cloth. It astounds everyone to see their team leader be so gentle for once.

“Yubin, what’s your problem?” Jungkook turns to face the girl, eyebrows furrowed as his expression contrasts to his hands gently tending to you.

“She hit me too hard! Jungkook, can’t you see she almost broke my rib!” Yubin’s being unnecessarily dramatic at this point, and everyone else can see right through her.

“Don’t bother coming back tomorrow, you’re suspended from here until after tomorrow. The rules are clear, no foul play, and you clearly punched her after the sparring was over.” He orders her, making her exit the gym.

“Come, go to the medical room, you busted your lip too,” Jungkook grabs your hand, leading you into the room and closing the door behind him.

Your heart is erratically pounding in your chest, your breathing is slightly heavier, from both the previous sparring and Jungkook’s ministrations.

You sit on the couch in the room, hands fiddling with each other as Jungkook shuffles through the medical kit.

“Thanks for that just now,” You whisper, but Jungkook catches it, turning to face you, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile.

“Just ignore her, she’s usually like that.” He tells you, taking a cotton bud and applying the ointment on your busted lip. You wince at the sudden contact, hissing as the cut stings.

“Sorry, it’ll be quick I promise,” He tells you, eyes focusing on applying the cream.

Seeing Jungkook so up close does things to your heart, you notice his two lip piercings, the chain necklace he has on, his hair covering his eyes slightly.

You unconsciously reach up to swipe his hair out of his face, before quickly pulling your hand back once you realise what you were doing.

“Hmm?” He hums, looking back up to make eye contact with you. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest as he scans your face, cheeks tainted as your eyes stare back at his. Fuck, you do things to him.

“Am I making you soft? Why does everyone act so surprised when you do this kind of stuff?” You whisper, maintaining eye contact with him.

“Maybe you are,” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, it makes your heart skip a beat. “Why? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap. Your voice wavers as you reply, not trusting yourself to speak fully.

“So you’ll let me do this?” He leans in, breath fanning against your ear. Your breath hitches, his close proximity is so familiar to you, yet not. Even though it wasn’t the first time he was playing with you like this, it had caught you by surprise every time.

You stiffen slightly as you feel his lips make contact with your ear for a split second, eyes widening as he pulls back to face you.

“You’re cute when you're flustered. A whole different person. When you’re fighting you look like an angry cat,” He chuckles, teasing you as you gasp.

“No I don’t!” You slap his chest playfully, feeling at ease with the man already.

“Mm, okay,” He muses, turning back to place the ointment into the medical kit.

You clutch onto your chest for a second, processing what had just happened.

He’s about to be the death of you.

-

“___, there’s another girl from a team who requested to spar with you, her name’s Jisan, you’ll be in a match with her next week,” Namjoon approaches you, telling you.

“What?” You gasp, raising your voice a little as Namjoon is taken aback by your reaction.

“Nothing,” You sigh. There was no way Jisan, the girl Jaehyun had cheated with you on, had the nerves to even set up a match with you like that. But still, it gave you an opportunity to get your revenge back, so who were you to back down from this fight?

For the next week following up to the fight, you’ve been staying late at the gym, punching the same sandbag as you push yourself to work harder. There was no way you were letting yourself fall to Jisan.

“___, go home, you’re exerting yourself too much,” Jimin tells you, holding the sandbag to stop it from swaying.

“Can’t” You pant, resting your palms on your thighs as you catch your breath, “Can’t lose to her, need to practice,”

“I’m telling you, you’re gonna over exert yourself and not do as well during the actual match,” He warns you, but leaves you alone, packing up his stuff to leave.

“I won’t, I just need to train as hard as I can to beat her.”

-

Oh, how wrong were you.

Jisan currently has you pinned against the floor, you groan as she lands another punch square to your jaw.

“___! Get up!” You can hear Woojae shout from the side, but everything’s hurting from how hard the girl had punched you.

“Jisan! Jisan! Jisan!” That’s all you hear as the crowd cheers, the countdown already starting as you struggle against her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, no wonder Jaehyun left you for me,” She sneers in your face, as a tear escapes from your eye.

“Hah! What a pussy! Babe, take a look at her, pathetic,” She calls over to Jaehyun in the crowd, making you growl underneath her. It’s too late, the bell shrills, indicating your defeat.

You don’t bother to wait for Woojae to come and assist you down, instead, you run out of the ring, out of the gym and far away from the crowd, to a place behind the gym where no one went to.

It hurts your pride, especially to lose to someone like Jisan. You didn’t miss the way Jaehyun had laughed right in your face as he watched you get beaten up. It made you so mad that you let yourself lose to someone like her.

There was a sandbag hanging there, as you relentlessly attacked it, releasing all your pent up anger. Despite how many times you tried to punch the bag, your emotions built up on top of each other.

It’s like your world is crashing down, as you slide down and curl up into a ball, sobbing. Your pride was at your lowest, to be tormented by your ex, have him laugh in your face, have the girl he cheated on with you to beat you in a boxing match, it made you feel like you were worthless.

It’s been almost an hour as you sit against the wall, sobbing into your arms as you stare at the ground. Why did you have to lose? You spent so much energy into preparing for this match, yet you lost.

“___,” You hear someone call out to you, hand wrapping around your sobbing figure. But you push whoever was there away, there was no way anyone could see you in this state.

“Come here, it’s only me here, everyone else left,” You recognise the voice now, it’s Jungkook.

“Go away, I’m fine,” You sniff, whipping away the tear rolling down your cheek. It was even more embarrassing to you that Jungkook had seen you fail in front of his own eyes, and now he’s watching you weep pathetically because you lost to Jisan.

“It’s fine to lose you know, ___,” He squats next to you, but you only turn away, refusing to show your face.

“It’s not okay when that’s the girl my ex cheated with me on in my old club,” You spit out, a scoff coming out from your mouth at the thought of them.

Jungkook stiffens slightly at this, having not known much about your previous experience with your old club. He had only merely known that you had been with another club but it wasn’t ideal for you, which was why you had switched over.

“I have lost to many people like that before too, people who I want to get revenge on, you know?” He starts, sitting next to you, “But because I was so focused on the fact that I hated them, and I wanted them to lose so badly, I put aside my focus on actually implementing my skills during the match,”

You turn over to watch him through your teary eyes, noticing his gaze softening the moment he makes eye contact with you.

“And I know you aren’t weak for a fact, in fact everyone in the crowd could tell that it wasn’t the fact that you weren’t capable enough. We could tell you were distracted with something else, which is why I also came to find you,” He brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I know how strong you are ___, or else why would I accept you into my club, hmm?” He tells you, “Don’t let this defeat indicate your strength and level in boxing, our whole team knows how strong you are,”

“The most important thing is to put aside everything else, and just focus on your skills in the match. Never let anything else falter you,”

You can’t help but smile at the praise, even though your heart still feels heavy after the loss, maybe his words took a little of that weight off your chest.

“If you want, I’ll spend extra time after training to train with you,”

You whip your head up, eyes widening in shock.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t mind since I can see the potential in you ___,”

-

So you and Jungkook had begun staying back after practice and training together, and the both of you had definitely grown closer than before.

“Good!” He praises as you relentlessly attack his hits, punching the mitts with all your might.

“One more round then we’re done,” You nod your head, catching your breath and taking a sip of water before returning back to the mat where Jungkook was waiting.

“Start,” You’re about to hit the mitt, preparing to launch a jab before you’re cut short, both you and Jungkook were shocked to hear the door to the gym open.

Practice ended at least a good hour ago, so everyone should have gone home by now.

But of course, you shouldn’t be surprised that Yubin was the one entering the gym, a fake gasp coming from her mouth as she runs up to Jungkook.

“Yubin, what are you doing here,” Jungkook shrugs her hand off when she clings onto his arm.

“Are you giving ___ private lessons? Can I join?” She flutters her lashes at him, pouting and attempting to give him puppy eyes, remember, attempting.

You decide to take matters into your own hands, why must she get in the way of you and Jungkook?

“No Yubin, we’re specifically only training together, besides, aren’t you supposed to be home now? I’ll see you tomorrow,” You tell her, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back to the mat. He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as he lets himself get pulled by you.

Yubin scoffs at this, she doesn’t have any intentions of giving up, as she approaches you both again.

“Jungkookie~, You’ll let me join right?” She asks him, standing a little too close to Jungkook to your liking.

“No Yubin,” He grunts, putting the mitts back on and ignoring her shocked reaction. You can only laugh watching her stomp out of the gym.

“Jealous, huh?” He taunts you, smirking as he watches your reaction.

“No, I just wanted to train, didn’t want her in the way,” You mumble, pulling your arms up to get ready.

Jungkook finds it amusing, but he doesn’t comment on your behaviour further, simply complying and returning back to train you.

-

To say you and Jungkook had grown close was an understatement, he would treat you to dinner or food after your training, and would constantly text you to check up on your health. You were content with this, but your heart said otherwise. There was always this small part of you that craved for more, that yearned for a deeper relationship with him. Yet the possibility of a new relationship failing just like your old one with Jaehyun, led you to push those feelings aside.

You sigh, punching the sandbag again as you snap out of your daze. Ever since Jungkook’s fight with Eunwoo, he seemed to be more interested in you, playing with your heart and teasing you here and there. It made you go crazy, thinking about him when you went to bed and the moment you woke up.

“Hey ___, what are you doing after this?” Mingyu taps you on the shoulder, catching your attention.

“I’m gonna train with Woojae and Jungkook, then I should be done for the day, why?” You tell him, holding the sandbag in place to stop it from swaying.

“Wanna get drinks with me? I’m bored and I wanted to go to this bar,” Mingyu smiles at you, waiting for your response.

“Sure, I’ve got to tell Jungkook to cancel our extra practice today, hold on,” You were definitely taken aback by the sudden ask, but you weren’t opposed to it either. Mingyu seemed like a friendly guy anyways, to you it was good to make some friends here and there.

You approach the said man, who was currently talking to Jimin.

“Jungkook,” He turns around to face you, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“I’ve got plans tonight with Mingyu so can we cancel the extra practice today?” You tell him, Jungkook’s eyes widen, since when did you have plans with Mingyu, his friend out of all people?

“Yeah sure,” He starts, “He asked you?” Arms folding as he looks over to the guy.

“Yeah,” You reply, noticing a slight frown forming on his face as he gazes over to Mingyu, but you choose to ignore it anyway.

-

“Okay you’re done today, good work,” Woojae pants, reaching out to bump his gloves into yours. You notice Jungkook standing at the side of the gym, so you head towards him.

“Did I do well today?” You playfully nudge him, giving him a smile as you await his response.

Instead you’re met with a cold “Yeah”, from him, Jungkook doesn’t even spare you a glance before he heads to one of the sandbags, beginning to jab at it a little too hard.

“Jeon, lay back a little, you’re gonna burst another one of those bags,” Woojae jokes, laughing as he packs up his stuff. Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only continues to punch it harder.

“Don’t worry about him, to be honest this is his normal self, ever since you came along he’s been more soft, so don’t be too surprised,” Woojae whispers towards you, as you only meekly nod.

But why was he being different all of a sudden? Did you do something?

“Hey ___, you’re done right? Let’s go,” Mingyu wraps his arm around you, as you giggle, following him. But you also don’t fail to notice the punching sounds in the back growing unconsciously louder.

-

It was the morning of your huge fight, you headed to the gym to warm up before the match, expecting to see Jungkook there. Yet when you enter the gym, you’re met with cold, hard silence.

Maybe he just wanted more sleep? He’ll be watching your match for sure right?

When you enter the ring, even though a whole crowd of people was cheering you on, a huge sum of money was placed on you, you couldn’t help but enter with a heavy heart.

Looking over to where your team sat, your team leader, Jungkook, was nowhere to be seen. The spot where he usually sits empty.

Was he really that mad at you to the point he didn’t come to your match? You honestly thought deep down inside, maybe you and him had something together, it made you want to believe in relationships again.

You don’t have time to look over and wait for the said man to arrive, as the announcer introduces you and your opponent.

Throughout the first round, you were constantly being attacked, you failed to defend yourself, your opponent managing to catch you at your weakest moments, jabbing you right and left. And everytime you tried to attack back, she managed to block your hits, tiring you out instantly.

You couldn’t help it, not when Jungkook was in your mind. Not when you couldn’t spot the man sitting amongst the crowd.

The bell shrills when you land on the ground, unable to get up. You still had one more round, yet you were ready to give up.

Woojae walks over to help you up, “___, what’s up with you today?”

“I don’t know,” You can’t even bear to look him in his eyes, head hung low as you walk to your prep room.

“Whatever it is, you have half an hour to sort it out, whether you lose or win, put in your best effort, not whatever happened out there,” He strictly tells you, before closing the door, leaving you alone in the room to gather your thoughts.

“Where is he? Did I really do something that bad to anger him?” You mutter under your breath, a string of curse words escape your mouth, frustration boiling from you.

“I’ve been watching you from in here,”

You immediately jump at the voice, chills running down your spine as you whip your head up. Jungkook’s standing against the wall, back leaning on the wall with his arms folded, you can’t read his expression, but he nods his head towards the TV mounted to the wall, the empty ring displayed on the screen.

“You scared me,” You whisper, letting out a sigh of relief, at least it wasn’t what you thought it was, some kind of ghost.

“Did you forget what I told you?” He approaches you, slowly walking towards your seated figure on the couch. “To not let anything else distract you and focus on your skills in the game?”

“That’s bold of you to say when you were the reason why I couldn’t focus just now,” You scoff, before stiffening up, realising that you had just exposed yourself.

“Hmm? You were thinking about me?” He leans closer to face you, both your faces inches apart.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounds in your chest, you’re pretty sure he might even be able to hear it.

“No, I mean, not really,” You turn your head to face away from his gaze, but he only puts a finger under your chin to guide you to face back to him.

“You sure?” He taunts you, a smirk clear on his face as he watches you flush. “It’s fun to see this side of you, hmm? All flustered under my touch?”

You can’t even reply to him, your eyes only widen as he leans further.

“So you won’t mind if I do this?”

Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Jeon Fucking Jungkook, Venom.

You halt for a second, before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

When he pulls apart, the both of you pant heavily, staring at each other.

“Been waiting forever to do that, you know?” He breaks the silence first, “Now since you’ve gotten your kiss, you better not be distracted in your second round in ten minutes,”

You gasp, still flustered from a while ago, “How am I supposed to focus now when you just kissed me?”

“Win the match and I’ll give you a reward later,” He pecks your lips, sending you a teasing smile.

You can’t even process what has happened, in the last twenty minutes of your break, Jungkook had kissed you. THE Jungkook kissed you.

-

This time, Jungkook sits amongst the crowd, you make eye contact with him before going up into the ring, it gives you a boost of motivation.

You’re curious, what reward would he give you if you did win? If you didn’t, would he be disappointed? But he just kissed you, so what does that mean?

“Last round!” The announcer calls out, as you step into the ring. You shake any thoughts off your mind, “Don’t think about anything else, focus,” you tell yourself.

You land a few jabs on your opponent, causing her to falter back. Another right uppercut to her jaw and she falls to the ground. You don’t let her take the opportunity to get up as you jab her again.

The countdown starts, as she tries to get up, with every second that counts, your heart beats harder and harder.

“3,2,1!” The announcer shouts, “___ takes the champion!” He holds up your hand high, as you smile, feeling a surge of relief. Finally, victory is yours.

You spot your team cheering up and down, Jungkook smiling proudly as cheers flood the arena.

“I knew you could do it!” You laugh as Jimin pats you on the back, the other club members had come over to congratulate you as well.

-

The whole club had decided to go out for a meal as a celebration for your first win, finding a restaurant near the gym.

You decide to text Jungkook, who was sitting across from the table to you.

you: so what’s my reward? 🙃

His phone lights up on the table, catching his attention.

jungkook: you’ll find out later

jungkook: follow me back to my apartment

Your heart thumps in your chest, looking up to make eye contact with the man.

Jungkook gestures towards your phone, signalling for you to check it.

jungkook: follow me outside, im going for a smoke break

“I’ll be outside,” Jungkook stands up, as the rest of the table nods before quickly engaging back in the conversations.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table, scurrying behind Jungkook.

“Come here,” He calls out to you, walking into the alleyway next to the restaurant. You scuttled behind him, watching as he pulls out a cigarette from the box and lights it, inhaling.

“I want to know my reward,” You demand, hands planted on your hips as you stare back at him.

“Patience sweetheart,” He sighs, turning his head to the side and blowing out the smoke.

“So what are we?”

Jungkook’s a little taken aback by the sudden question, but he doesn’t let it show, walking forward to cage you against the wall.

“What do you want us to be?” He whispers, pecking your cheek tenderly.

You don’t reply, tugging his collar to make him lean down, connecting both of your lips.

“Just want you,” You mumble after breaking apart the kiss.

“Yeah? You’ll get me later,” He chuckles, pulling his cigarette in to inhale another breath.

You almost choke on your saliva, gulping as you realised what he just said.

“But for real,” He laughs at your flustered expression, “Be my girlfriend?”

You nod your head, pulling him in for another kiss.

-

You and Jungkook should have definitely not left the dinner this early considering it was literally your celebratory dinner, but the both of you simply would have gone crazy if you did so.



“Kook, close the door,” You laugh through a kiss as Jungkook hums, mindlessly shutting the front door to his apartment with his foot.

“Fuck, been waiting to do this since forever,” He mumbles, as he trails kisses down your neck, sucking on a spot that makes you grip his arms a little tighter.

The apartment is filled with your soft moans, Jungkook kissing your neck passionately as he groans.

“Up,” He taps your butt, signalling for you to jump up.

You do so, and he carries you into the room, gently placing you on his bed.

You giggle as he peppers more kisses down, before halting to remove his shirt, his torso now full on display for you to see.

You use this opportunity to remove your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear, as Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Pretty girl,” He sighs, kissing down to your cleavage, as you giggle, playing with his hair and hands roaming his back.

“Kiss me,” You whine, tapping his shoulders to get him to move his attention back to your lips.

“So needy, huh?” He chuckles, “Gonna make this good for you, yeah? Give you your reward?”

He unclasps your bra, gazing intently at your boobs as he pinches one of your nipples, making you arch your back, a whine emitting from your mouth.

He trails down to your lower body, teeth clasping the band of your underwear as he pulls it down, the sight itself sends a rush of heat to your pussy.

“Jungkook,” Another whine, he shushes you quickly, nose nudging against your clit as you sigh in relief.

His tongue makes contact with your clit, sucking on it as you mewl, sensations overwhelming you already. His fingers begin to trace over your slit, gathering the slick as he slowly pushed two fingers in.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, how is my cock suppose to fit in here later, huh?” He laughs, breath fanning on your pussy as you shudder.

“I can,” You tell him through moans, hands finding its way through his hair as you tug on it.

“Mm, gonna stretch you out,”

His fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you, as a choked moan escapes your mouth, chanting his name. Sensations overwhelm you as he continues to finger you, sucking on your clit, you’re so close.

“Mmhm- No!” Just as you’re about to climax, Jungkook quickly removes his fingers, your hole clenches, as you whine at the empty feeling.

Jungkook steps back a little, removing his pants as his cock springs up, slapping his stomach.

This time, you immediately take initiative, sitting up from the bed as you take his cock in your hand, slowly stroking it, making Jungkook hiss above you.

You peer up to him, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue to trace over the slit on his head, Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Good girl,” He praises you, as you sink your mouth further down, taking most of his cock, while you continue to stroke the rest.

You bob your head up and down, as Jungkook’s moans grow louder, his hands grip onto your head, slightly pushing your head down as you let out a strangled moan.

“Fuck, fuck enough,” He quickly pulls you back, angry cock red and throbbing as you smile, looking up at him.

“I was about to cum, you don’t know what you do to me,” He sighs, wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth.

You climb back onto the bed as Jungkook follows you, crawling on top of you as he locks his lips with yours again.

“Ready?” He breaks the kiss, tapping the head of his cock at your entrance. You quickly nod, wrapping your legs around his waist.

A sigh comes from both your mouths as Jungkook sinks in, the stretch bringing you more pleasure than pain.

“You can move,” Jungkook nods, beginning to pick up a rhythm as he pushed his cock in and out of you, moans growing louder.

“Hnggh please” Another strangled moan emits your mouth, as Jungkook chuckles from above you.

“Please what baby? Use your words,” He whispers into your ear, sucking on the skin right below it, making you arch your back further, inching closer to him.

“Faster, please, need you,” You pant, hands roaming his back as he picks up his thrusts, watching as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“Yeah? Like that?” You nod, moaning as your nails drag along his broad and muscular back, pleasure overwhelming you.

“Right there! Don’t stop please,” You sob, tightening your grip on his back as he grunts above you, cock slamming into your pussy.

Your thighs begin to shake around his waist as you climax, Jungkook’s cum spurting into your pussy as he lets out a guttural moan.

Quickly pulling out, he kisses you, pushing the strand of hair away from your face. You pant, smiling into the kiss as the both of you catch your breath.

“Good?” He hums, pecking your forehead affectionately.

“Mm, best reward ever,”

taglist: @sparklingocean @idkjustlovingbts @moonstar127 @babybella337 @ane102 @synnfulqt

[okaylikeschaewon]

Exchange Part 2: Flower

Another 10k+ words, smut, male reader, PART ONE HERE

“They approved the request, but now you get a choice,” the bodyguard said, turning directly to you. “After you’re done with Miss Jennie, you can choose to also take a turn with Miss Jisoo.”

“That wasn’t the deal!” Jennie shouted back. “We said he fucks me instead of her.”

“I’m sorry Miss Jennie, I’m just the messenger.”

“Then take this message back and tell them to go fu-”

“I won’t take a turn with Jisoo,” you cut her off. “Just with Jennie, and then we’re done.”

Jennie’s entire demeanor swapped as she glanced at you, full of silent appreciation. The bodyguard, on the other hand, was much less understanding.

“You’re passing up the opportunity to be with Miss Jisoo?” he asked, mouth hanging open in shock. “You do also realize you’d be guaranteeing a promotion if you did it, right?”

“I do.”

“Then how can you possibly turn this down?”

“You said it was my decision, I have decided against it,” you said firmly. “Can we proceed?”

“My God even if you don’t find her attractive, at least do it for the job,” the bodyguard said while shaking his head. “Alright, it’s your choice, go and get acquainted while I grab the guys.”

Both you and Jennie returned to the room where you found Jisoo holding the letter from earlier, her knuckles white.

“There’s a live audience, too?” she asked, voice full of despair.

“It’s fine, they approved the request,” Jennie replied, taking off her coat again, leaving her completely nude yet again. “I’ll be the one doing most of it.”

“Most of it?” Jisoo repeated.

“They approved the request, but you still need to participate just a little bit,” you explained, taking a seat next to her. “We can talk about limits before they come.”

“You just have to sit there and look pretty, it’s the same as part one,” Jennie said while checking out her ass in the mirror. “You slapped me so fucking hard, it’s all red now.”

“Jisoo, are you okay with stripping all the way?” you asked, ignoring Jennie.

She nodded, her cheeks unable to hide the rosy tint that appeared.

“And are you okay with Jennie touching you in front of them?”

Another nod.

“I’ll try to avoid it, but are you okay with me touching you in front of everyone?” you asked hesitantly. “They might request it.”

This time she hesitated for a short second before nodding, her cheeks bright red.

“I’m fine with it,” she muttered quietly, avoiding your eye contact.

“Great, now that we got that out of the way,” Jennie said casually while walking over to you. “Show me your cock.”

“You getting withdrawal symptoms or something?” you asked sarcastically.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” Jennie snarled. “I’m still in charge here.”

“Well if the little slut wants to see my cock, she can come take a look,” you gestured towards your crotch, leaning back on your hands. “Show me how in charge you are as you suck my dick.”

She wanted to argue, but for some reason Jennie held her tongue and leaned forward. Without any attempt to make it sexy, she yanked down your pants, revealing your cock. You helped her out by taking off your shirt, joining her in her nudity.

“There’s just one of us left,” Jennie mentioned casually, her eyes locked on your cock.

Jisoo stood up from the bed, facing away from you, and reached behind her back. She undid the strap of her bra, letting it fall to the ground, before bending over at her waist and lowering her purple panties.

“How about you look at me for once,” Jennie clicked her tongue, arms crossed as she stood there looking at you with all the sass in the world.

“Come here and stop covering up your tits then,” you replied, standing up from the bed and moving Jennie’s arms away. “So, tell me, what are your boundaries?”

“I’m-”

You slapped her across the face, not particularly hard, but it was loud.

“I don’t really care,” you said coldly before wrapping an arm around her body and grabbing her ass. “Girl like you probably doesn’t care what happens to her anyway,” you continued before tossing her on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Dick!” Jennie shouted at you as you walked up to Jisoo who was shyly covering up.

“I mean it when I say it,” you said softly, carefully prying her arms away from her chest. “You’re beautiful.”

Jisoo looked to the side, still being shy as she showed you her chest. Her hands began trying to cover between her legs, but you encouraged her to stop hiding by holding her wrists.

“You have nothing to be shy about,” you said reassuringly while placing your hands on her breasts before gesturing towards her crotch. “May I?”

She nodded at you, and the two of you locked eyes. You gave her a quick kiss before slowly crouching down in front of her, getting on your knees. Your eyes never left hers, even as you carefully moved your mouth between her legs.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as you pressed your mouth against her pussy. You gently stuck your tongue out, licking up and down her slit, tasting her delicious body. She looked so pristine between the legs, the most visually appealing pussy ever, and her taste matched. She was irresistible.

Unfortunately, you would have to cut the fun short as there was a knock on the door. You stood back up, wiping Jisoo’s mess off your chin, the two of you smiling at each other. Over her shoulder, you could see Jennie on the bed touching herself - she even looked a bit jealous.

“Are you going to get that, little slut?” you asked Jennie.

Again, she looked pissed, but perhaps she didn’t want to annoy Jisoo because she got off the bed and walked to the door. While she left, you gave Jisoo one last hug to ease her nerves before taking a few steps away.

When Jennie returned, she had about six or seven men following her. They barely even noticed you at first, all of them fixated on Jennie’s swaying ass as she walked in. One of them was holding a camera.

“Rules are simple,” Jennie explained as the men made a line by the wall. “You guys get to watch our little fun here. Touch yourselves, moan, do whatever, but you’re only watching.”

“Will Miss Jisoo be getting fucked?” one of the men who was very focused on Jisoo asked.

“No, not tonight,” Jennie replied, glancing at Jisoo who looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Does she want to get fucked?”

A few of the men laughed before immediately going silent under Jennie’s gaze.

“Let me remind you, this is a privilege for you guys,” Jennie hissed. “If any of you disrespect Jisoo, you’ll be handing out resumes. Understood?”

There was a collective nod through the line before Jennie walked over to you. She gestured for the camera man to move a little closer as she took your cock in her hand and started stroking you.

“As hard as you want,” she whispered into your ear so the rest of the room couldn’t hear. “No limits, blink is the safeword.”

After taking a deep breath, you pushed Jennie down to the floor until she was on her knees in front of you. As soon as you slipped your cock into her mouth, a few of the men began lowering their pants. You decided to ignore the spectators, including the cameraman, and instead you focused on the girl sucking your cock.

She really gave you no reason to complain. The way she worked her tongue around your cock felt amazing, and she had no difficulty throating your whole length. Even with your cock threatening to slip down her throat, she managed to keep working her tongue. She honestly looked stunning with a cock in her mouth, but she wasn’t the only girl in the room.

You gave Jennie a little pat on the cheek before grabbing her hand and walking her over to the bed. Jisoo, who was standing there watching, followed your instructions and lay down in the middle of the bed, her legs spread wide. Jennie crawled onto the bed, without even needing your guidance, and began eating her out.

At this point you noticed in your periphery that most of the men had their cocks out. Ignoring them again, you joined the two girls on the bed, getting right up behind Jennie’s lifted ass. You seamlessly entered her pussy, noticing very little difficulty, as if her pussy was created to accept cock.

The view was to die for. Jisoo was laying there with her eyes closed in pleasure, her hands absentmindedly groping her own tits, Jennie’s fit body eclipsing Jisoo’s pussy, her head moving around between Jisoo’s legs. Then there was Jennie’s perfectly heart-shaped ass, and between her shapely cheeks your cock disappeared over and over.

Her pussy hugged you snugly, it wasn’t the tightest, but it offered just the right amount of pressure. It was easy, jamming yourself into her, and you found her meaty pussy had a beautiful grip on your shaft, begging for you to stay inside.

She was wet, soaked actually. Her pussy, warmed by her body, was borderline slippery; It felt like you had dumped a whole bottle of lube on your cock as you slid back and forth. That’s not to say she didn’t feel amazing, though, in fact she felt fucking phenomenal. You didn’t plan on telling her this, of course, but her pussy was perfect.

Not only was Jennie’s pussy designed to be fucked, apparently her mouth was designed to eat out Jisoo. You turned your attention to the pleasure-stricken girl who was squeezing one tit hard, the softness flowing between her fingers, while her other hand was holding the back of Jennie’s head. Jisoo had her eyes shut tight, mouth wide open, head tilted back, chin up. No sounds came out, and the room was silent outside of the rhythmic slapping of your thighs on Jennie’s ass.

After fucking her pussy for a bit, you started to feel her body start contracting. It happened pretty quickly, you weren’t ready for it when her pussy suddenly clamped down on your cock. A scream filled the room, a singular curse, one that made the row of men speed up as Jennie’s body shot up, flashing the spectators.

Her ass pressed hard against your body, squishing the soft cheeks against your thighs. You tried to fuck her some more, but it was futile, her pussy was overwhelmed to the point where you couldn’t even move. What was once as easy as tying your shoes now became impossible with how tight she was.

Your hands reached around her body, relishing in the soft mounds she was sticking out for the whole room to see. Her fit body was beautifully curved, her figure dripping of sex appeal. Even though you couldn’t see it, your hands became your eyes as you mapped out her body, finally realizing how fucking nice it was. She should probably consider modeling, if she could ever take a break from getting dicked.

Apparently a break is exactly what she needed right now as she fell forward onto the bed, squeezing every nerve in your cock as she pulled out. Her whole body was trembling still, but you weren’t going to give her a break. Her body looked too good, after all, you were still being gentle.

Jisoo crawled over on the bed next to you, almost waiting for your next move. She didn’t have to wait long, as you grabbed Jennie by her hips and rolled her onto her back. You spread her legs wide, ignoring her blissful state of relaxation, and rubbed your finger up and down her pussy.

It only took a few flicks of your fingers for her to leave a noticeable wet spot on the bed beneath her. You had to catch yourself before you started drooling while you debated plunging your face into her wet pussy.

Ultimately, the tension built up in your cock prevailed, and you crawled between Jennie’s legs. You raised her legs up, holding them against your waist, lining your throbbing cock up with her pussy. You were also soaked at this point, your cock was shining just as much as Jennie’s pussy, and once again you entered her with almost no resistance.

“Fuuuuuck,” she moaned out, finally recovering enough to be sentient.

Next to you, Jisoo was carefully watching as you started to fuck Jennie again. She was so beautiful, deep down you wished you accepted the offer to take her as well, but you shot that idea away and focused on Jennie’s pussy - an easy task. You gave Jisoo a light pat on her butt, gesturing towards Jennie’s face.

Luckily, she understood the suggestion. Jisoo carefully straddled Jennie’s face, her ass pointed towards the audience while she looked into your eyes. She lowered her body until her pussy pressed up against Jennie’s mouth and started grinding her hips gently back and forth.

Joining along with her pace, you once again started thrusting your hips into Jennie’s pussy while holding her legs up against your hips. You matched Jisoo’s movements to the best of your ability, but admittedly it was getting difficult as you could feel yourself getting close.

Your body started to move of its own accord, you were losing control. Jennie’s pussy was calling to you, even though she was just laying there with Jisoo sitting on her face, you felt like she was the one forcing you to fuck her. In a way, she was, why did her pussy have to feel so good?

The race was lost, however, as Jisoo began to moan. The shy girl was now moaning unabashedly, shamelessly in front of the entire room, not caring about anything other than her orgasm. First she fell forward, her hands landing next to Jennie’s body, her tits hanging down beautifully in front of you. Then with a spasm she shot backwards, all the way off Jennie’s face and onto her back on the bed.

Jisoo's orgasm caused something deep within of you to awaken. As you dove deep into Jennie's pussy, your steady tempo was abruptly replaced with a brutally harsh, ferocious fucking. Jennie turned into your fucktoy, serving only as a gaping hole for your cock. Her tits started shaking frantically and jumping up and down.

At this point, Jennie was out of her mind. Nothing coming out of her mouth made any sense, not that you would have cared what she was saying. You knew you were about to cum hard, and Jennie’s wellbeing was not your concern, the only thing that concerned you was how wet her pussy was.

Jisoo watched patiently, her fingers gently rubbing her own pussy as she recovered from the orgasm. Her face was completely flushed, her skin sporting a thin layer of sweat.

“I’m about to cum,” you grunted, leaning forward, letting go of Jennie’s legs and grabbing her tits.

“Cum on Jisoo!” one of the executives suggested.

“Cum on her pussy!” another one shouted.

There was no real choice as a few of the others agreed, showing their support for the idea. You slammed into Jennie a couple more times, getting yourself right on the edge, before withdrawing and pushing her to the side carelessly.

Jisoo stared directly into your eyes, sadness deep in her pupils, yet she understood. Almost as if your cock was waiting for permission, Jisoo’s subtle nod set it off. Streaks of cum began spraying on her lips, coating her folds in the white mess. The spectators were pleased, thankfully, cheering you on as your mess landed all over Jisoo’s most private area.

Panting heavily, you rubbed your tip against her thigh, wiping off any remaining cum. As you admired Jisoo’s coated pussy, an idea came to you. Next to you on the bed, Jennie was gasping for breath, at least she was until her gasps were replaced by a shriek as you pulled her up by her hair. You pressed Jennie’s face into Jisoo’s pussy, holding the back of her head, preventing her from even considering moving away.

“Lap it up you little cum slut, this is the only way you’re getting any,” you whispered into her ear, pushing her face harder. “Not until you show me you deserve it straight from my cock.”

It almost seemed to encourage her, as Jennie was now shoving her face deep into Jisoo’s pussy without any assistance from your hand. With Jennie happily cleaning your cum up, you took the short break to lean next to Jisoo.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, watching as the audience was completely preoccupied by Jennie’s slurping.

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, using her hand to guide Jennie’s face between her legs. “Go again, then end with my face.”

The audience was becoming quite rowdy, chanting and cheering for Jennie. Degrading her in a sense, while praising Jisoo. Some of them showing their jealousy, pushing boundaries that Jennie probably wouldn’t approve of - that is if she could hear them. Jennie was clearly in her own world, sucking every drop of your cum possible off Jisoo’s pussy.

Ignoring the chants, you yanked Jennie by her hair and tossed her to the floor in front of the row of executives.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” she screamed, glaring at you in a way that implied she wanted to rip your head off, and you almost thought she would.

Her anger was met with a swift slap across the face, enough force to make her turn all the way around. You almost felt bad, seeing her holding her hand to her cheek, on her knees, fully nude in front of all these men - almost.

From behind, you could see Jennie’s pussy dripping with anticipation - literally. She wasted no time getting into position, hands and knees, like she was born for this one purpose alone. It made it easier for you as you walked up behind her, admiring her from behind, when suddenly you had a change of plans.

A blood-curdling scream escaped Jennie’s lips as you shoved yourself balls deep into her asshole. Her body immediately spasmed as she lunged away from you, immediately pulling away from your cock.

“A bit of a warning would have been nice, dickhead!” she screamed, rubbing her asshole.

Ignoring her rage, you casually walked up to her until your cock was right in front of her. You rubbed your cock all over her face, much to her displeasure, teasing her, making her scrunch her face up in disgust.

“Where’d I put my cock?”

“Fuck off,” she spat, trying to bat your arm away while you kept rubbing her face all over.

“Where’d I put my cock?” you asked again, this time accompanied by a tug of her hair.

She glared at you, wanting to argue more, but she was aware of your grip on her scalp and didn’t dare test you again.

“In my ass,” she mumbled.

“What was that?” you ridiculed her, slapping her cheek with your cock.

“In my ass,” she repeated more clearly, trying to ignore your humiliation.

“That’s right,” you yanked her hair enough to not really cause much pain, but just to remind her. You started rubbing your cock against her pursed lips, enjoying the visual of her trying to refuse entry. “And that’s where it’s going again, right after it goes down your throat.”

“I’m not- letting you-” she fought with your cock until she finally opened her lips just enough for you to start entering.

“Wider little slut, stop pretending you’d pass on this,” you mocked her with her own words.

Jennie’s angry gaze never dropped, even as she opened her mouth wide for your cock to the amusement of your audience. You thrust your hips deep into her, stepping forward as you did until she was practically laying down on the floor, with just her face being held up by her hair. Her slobber began flowing down her chin, pooling on her chest as you pushed down her throat a few times, pressing her nose against your body.

“Now turn around,” you spat after letting go of her head, letting her fall entirely onto her back, gasping and choking for breath. “My cock is craving your little asshole.”

She turned around, rather enthusiastically, until she was on her hands and knees in front of the audience yet again. This time, she was prepared, and she reached back with both hands to spread her cheeks as you stepped behind her, sliding your cock up and down her crack.

However, instead of thrusting right in, you decided to toy with her some more. You held the idea right in front of her face, poking at her asshole with your cock but delaying the entrance. Her skin was starting to stretch more as her hands pulled harder, spreading herself as much as she could for you.

Then you went in, with just the tip, earning a satisfied little moan. That was until you immediately pulled back out. Jennie immediately looked back over her shoulder, even angrier now that you were refusing to fuck her ass than she was when you shoved it in without warning.

She opened her mouth to complain, but she promptly reconsidered as you put your tip back into her tight asshole. She knew that you had all the control and she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Do you want your asshole fucked, little slut?”

There was no right answer, and she knew it, so she stayed silent as you pushed a little bit deeper than your tip.

“Do you?” you asked again, pushing even deeper.

Jennie let go of her ass cheeks, bringing both arms forward to support her body as she dipped her head.

“No? Alright,” you teased some more, pulling back until only your tip was inside.

“Please!” she screamed. “Just fuck me already.”

Time for teasing was over, and in one singular movement you inserted your cock all the way into her asshole. She screamed again - not that you cared - and you began ramming her asshole with as much force as you could muster. It was no easy task, her asshole was tight.

“Oh fuck!” she cried out as you began spanking her ass. “Oh fuck oh fuck!”

Her vocabulary diminished tremendously, and soon nothing but various profanities escaped her lips. The waves rippling up her body each time you slammed into her tight little ass were beautiful; Jennie took dick like an expert, knowing just how to make it look good.

She had her back arched just enough to where her ass was clearly visible to all the men, and you knew even though you couldn’t see them that her tits were hanging and swinging beautifully for everyone to see. Without slowing down the brutal pace of Jennie’s assfucking, you bent over her body and reached an arm around her chest.

It’s not like she had the biggest tits ever, but they were an amazing handful. So soft, so jiggly, fighting to escape your grip as her entire body was shaking with each thrust of your hips. You placed her nipple between your fingers, squeezing it as hard as her tight asshole was squeezing your cock.

Whether or not she noticed wasn’t very clear - her moans and screams were incessant either way. Your grunts were being completely masked by the loud slaps of skin on skin and Jennie’s harmonious cries of pleasure.

Jennie’s tight asshole had your cock ready to explode again. Even after everything tonight, just a few minutes in Jennie’s ass was all it took, but who could blame you? You were starting to understand why everyone was going crazy for this girl, her asshole felt so fucking good.

That didn’t make her any less of a cock slut, though. Not only was she taking your thrusting, she was also pushing herself back onto your body each time. Even if you stopped moving your hips, not that you physically had it in you to stop, she would still be fucking herself on you.

Unfortunately for Jennie - and fortunately for you - her asshole had brought you to completion already. Her tight squeeze was too much for you, and at this point after all the action tonight your cock was getting painfully sensitive; After one final thrust with all of your strength, you pulled out of her asshole.

She let out a disappointed moan the second your cock left her body - this girl was impossible to satisfy apparently. You gave her ass one last farewell slap before walking over to Jisoo, who had been touching herself while watching you plow Jennie, you could have sworn there was a hint of envy in her face.

As you got in front of Jisoo, you silently mouthed “I’m sorry” to which she simply replied by grabbing your cock, forcing your hand away. She began to stroke you, pointing your cock directly at her face. Her cute little tongue even poked out as she opened her mouth, ready for you, ready to accept you.

She stroked you fast and hard, not wanting to delay this final act of the show. Right in front of the row of men, you angled her slightly to give them the best view - if you were going to do this, might as well do it right. You placed one hand on the back of Jisoo’s head for support, your cock nearing yet another orgasm to the sound of Jisoo’s hand.

“Jisoo,” you grunted, one final word before you painted her face for the second time that night. Her beauty must have something to do with it, or perhaps Jennie’s tight asshole was the culprit, but despite blowing multiple loads tonight, you still somehow had enough in the tank to cover her face thoroughly.

Streak after streak of cum landed directly in the middle of her face, lines going up from her lips to her forehead. With the help of your hand, which you wrapped around Jisoo’s, you let the subsequent pumps land on her cheek. After Jisoo’s face was yet again coated in a fresh layer of cum, you let go of her head, letting her turn to the row of men watching and strike a few poses.

As they took their final mental pictures of the aftermath, you collapsed backwards, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to catch your breath - this ordeal became more of a workout than expected. Next to you, balled up on the floor with a hand between her legs, was Jennie, whimpering softly.

“Hey, you alright?” you whispered, holding a hand out to her.

She looked up at you, mascara dripping down her face, before accepting your hand. You pulled her up, sitting her on the edge of the bed with you.

“No one tonight,” she mumbled, “not a single person has fucked me the way you did.”

It was a coin-toss between sorry and you’re welcome, but in the end you went with “you’re welcome”.

“Seriously,” she moaned, leaning over slightly onto you as if to show you how sore her ass was right now. “They used to, but these last few years everyone has been too scared.”

“It helps that I don’t know who you are,” you replied, reaching a hand around her and grabbing her ass. “I’ll give you credit though, you take dick pretty well.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out by next year, but make me one promise,” Jennie replied. “If you do end up coming again, treat me exactly like you did tonight.”

“My God, you really are just a little slut aren’t you?” you asked while giving her ass a hard slap. “You just can’t get enough of it.” you continued as you grabbed her by her hair, bending her over your lap. You shoved her down onto your cock, filling her mouth with whatever remnants of your actions were coating your shaft, and started using your hand to press her mouth all the way down your cock.

“Mmphmphmmm!” she gagged as your semi-erect cock went down her throat.

“Good little slut,” you teased before yanking her up by her hair. “Maybe I will let you suck the cum out of my cock next time.”

Coughing and spitting, Jennie looked up at you, her face bright red.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she coughed, her happiness palpable. “I’m your little slut from now on.”

—

The aftermath got a bit hectic as a few of the execs saw you using Jennie’s mouth like a fleshlight and decided they wanted a turn - an idea Jennie wholeheartedly approved of. Jisoo and you didn’t get to speak much as she immediately began talking to some very important looking men outside, but she smiled warmly at you as you walked away. You hoped to catch up with her at some point again, make sure she got what she deserved with her solo.

It took way longer than expected, but you made your way back to Lisa’s room, checking the time to see it was just past midnight. As you walked, basically ran, through the hallways, all you could do was pray Lisa was still waiting. You had been through quite the ordeal, but she was still the girl you wanted tonight.

Panting and heaving, you arrived in front of her door. You quickly fixed up your clothes to the best of your ability, stood up straight, and knocked. Some movement was heard inside before the door swung open, and in front of you was an adorable girl wearing the widest smile imaginable.

“You actually came back.”

“I promised I would,” you said, accepting her invitation into the room. “I’m so sorry it took so long, things got complicated.”

“How did it go?” she asked, closing the door behind you.

“It was… interesting,” you answered truthfully.

“Look, we don’t have to talk about it,” Lisa said, her cheeks lightly blushed. “I know how these parties work, I know you were with a girl.”

“I’m sorry, please-”

“I won’t hold it against you,” Lisa said, looking into your eyes tenderly. “Like I said I understand how things work here, I still want to see what comes of this.”

“In that case,” you whispered, stepping up right in front of her with your hand pushing up on her chin gently. “Let’s continue where we left off.”

With her warm smile, she leaned forward and kissed you, a short and soft kiss.

“Sure, but first go shower,” Lisa giggled. “I said I understand, but I don’t want to be constantly reminded of how you just fucked another girl. You smell like sex.”

—

After a quick shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and left the bathroom. You could hear two female voices, not something you expected. As you entered the room, you found Lisa sitting on the bed next to a familiar face.

“Bunny mask?!” Jisoo gasped.

“This is him?” Lisa gasped in pure shock as if her whole world was a lie.

“What are… why are… how…?” Jisoo stumbled, apparently incapable of forming even one sentence. “Why are you here?”

“Lisa and I were-”

“Thank you so much,” Lisa squealed, jumping off the bed and jumping into your arms. “Jisoo told me how you were the only one.”

“I just did what any decent person would have done,” you responded, holding Lisa up in your arms.

“Yet you were the only one who didn’t treat me like a toy for their pleasure,” Jisoo mumbled quietly.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Lisa repeated while peppering your face with kisses. “I can’t believe I was upset with you for being late.”

“You were upset?”

“Wait, so you two…” Jisoo began to ask as Lisa hopped down from your embrace.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Lisa answered, pulling you onto the bed with her.

“I am?” you laughed, falling on top of her.

“No, but you never know,” Lisa winked, her playful demeanor returning in full force.

“In that case, I think I’ll leave you two to it,” Jisoo said, standing up from the bed.

“Don’t go!” you and Lisa shouted in unison before looking at each other.

Lisa cocked an eyebrow while staring at you, still smirking.

“You know what, maybe I’m the one who should leave,” Lisa suggested, pushing you off her.

“Wait no, Lisa,” you held her back.

“I’m not leaving for good,” she rolled her eyes at you. “I’ll just be in the other room, I think you two should have some time in private.”

“You’re fine with that?” you stuttered, shocked at her suggestion. It was one thing when you were forced to do something for your job, but she was still fine with it now?

“I meant to talk,” Lisa chuckled as she walked off. She leaned up against the bedroom door, looking back over her shoulder. “Oh and after you’re done talking to Jisoo with your cock, this will be waiting for you,” she added while sticking her ass out towards you and slapping it.

Jisoo’s face turned bright red in embarrassment as Lisa left to go to the other room, leaving just the two of you together.

“We don’t actually have to-”

“Thank you,” Jisoo cut you off.

You almost forgot how gorgeous she was.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure what to say.

“I’m fine,” Jisoo answered, unable to look directly at you. “I just never properly thanked you earlier…”

“And I told you, I just did what any decent person would do.”

“I did things tonight I never thought I would do,” Jisoo said quietly, staring at her lap. “If it weren’t for you, I probably would have had to lose my…” she choked up. “To one of those…”

“Jisoo,” you scooted over on the bed closer to her and grabbed her hand. “Like I said earlier, tonight doesn’t define you.”

“My solo,” she said while looking into your eyes, her own eyes moist. “I’ll always be reminded…”

“Reminded of how hard you work,” you interrupted her. “And of nothing else.”

Her smile warmed your heart all the way to the core, so endearing and genuine. She was always pretty, but her smile elevated her perfect visual even more somehow.

“I want to remember one more thing,” she whispered, leaning closer to you with her eyes starting to close. “Can you help me with that?”

Both of you began kissing, softly and tenderly. You closed your eyes as well, immersing yourself entirely in the kiss, wrapping your arms around her body. She reciprocated, both of you touching as much of each other as you possibly could while your lips remained fixed together. As the kiss went on, you ended up gently pushing forward until Jisoo was on her back. As your lips parted, you opened your eyes to look down at her as she looked up at you, her eyes sparkling.

“I want to remember tonight forever,” she whispered as her hands reached up to your pants. “The right way.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” you whispered back as she released your cock from your pants.

She answered your question with a kiss, this time her hands caressing your face tenderly like a lover. You kissed her back, slowly removing her clothes as you did. It wasn’t easy, stripping her down while keeping your tongue down her throat, but eventually you got there.

Your fingers made their way between her legs again, reuniting with the touch of her pussy. You let go of her mouth, lifting yourself above her slightly - you wanted to see her face as you went in for the first time.

“Ready?” you whispered into her face, receiving a nod of approval. “Tell me if I should stop.”

For the thousandth time that night, you were reminded of how beautiful Jisoo was. Precious, loveable, endearing, she looked up at you, her hands holding onto your biceps. Your cock was poised, held right in front of her pussy, ready to enter. Slowly, with the utmost care, you began to push into her.

Perfection was the only word that went through your mind as you entered. You went slowly, giving Jisoo ample time to adjust. She began to bite her lower lip, whimpering quietly as you pushed into her soft pussy. The warmth of her body engulfed you, burning your cock up with passion.

Her legs wrapped around your hips, hugging you as tightly as her pussy hugged your cock. You held still, just until her frantic breaths calmed down, relaxing just a bit. The grip she had on your arms began to falter as you pushed deeper inside her; You quickly caught her hands as she let go, interlocking your fingers with hers.

Then you pulled back, appreciating every possible sensation her pussy shot through your body. Back in you went, just as slowly and carefully as the first time. Her legs squeezed harder on your body, locking you in place, not letting you leave her pussy - not that you wanted to.

Somehow she began heating up even more, yet you didn’t care. You started to move just a little faster, using her moans as a cue to know when you were going too fast. It took some time, a construct that was lost on you at the moment, but eventually Jisoo was accepting your cock completely.

Deeper and deeper you pushed, testing her limits while still hyper-focusing on her reactions. As long as it looked like she was enjoying it, you kept going. Once you found yourself moving at a very comfortable pace, it didn’t take long for Jisoo’s moans to properly fill your ears.

There was no pornstar level screeching, Jisoo was too classy for that. She didn’t need to fake anything, either, your cock was hitting all the right buttons. The more you fucked her, the more her pussy leaked, making it easier to slide in and out of her burning tight pussy.

“Where?” you grunted softly.

“Inside,” Jisoo moaned, craning her neck upwards.

You leaned forward into her, pressing your mouth against hers. She let go of your hands, and her arms joined her legs as they wrapped around your body. You were locked in, physically impossible for you to be touching more of Jisoo’s soft skin.

Your thrusts sped up, not going nearly as deep anymore. At this point you couldn’t hold back, and with how Jisoo was kissing you, it was time. Your cock began to pulsate inside her warm pussy, filling her up pump by pump. The entire time, you kept your lips on hers, your tongues playfully fighting as your cock shot your seed deep inside her, until you felt your cock stop.

Now you were the one panting heavily, gasping for breath in Jisoo’s ear as she hugged you, her limbs still wrapped around your body. Your cock wouldn’t leave her warmth, it was too comforting. The two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other, until Jisoo spoke up with her croaky voice, dripping with emotion.

“I’ll never forget.”

—

“You really managed to hit three of the four tonight,” Lisa said informally, putting her phone on the side table. “You know, some people would literally murder you for that.”

“Do me a favor then,” you sighed, collapsing face down onto her bed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I was going to say I won’t as long as you fuck me,” Lisa giggled as she slid over and hugged you from behind. “But at this point I don’t know if you have it in you.”

“I do.” you mumbled into the bed. “Just give me a minute.”

“I’ll even give you two minutes,” Lisa joked, laying next to you on the bed.

“Three of the four huh,” you turned to your side to face Lisa. “Might as well go for the whole set tonight.”

“You’re not even done with my turn yet,” Lisa pouted, a hint of annoyance in her voice at the suggestion of another girl. “Plus, Rosie’s probably busy taking a really big dick tonight.”

“Is there anything you girls don’t share with each other?”

“This is different!” Lisa laughed. “Jennie told me about him, because of course she’s sucked his cock before, then I told Rosie I was considering him.”

“Wow so I’m just your second choice?”

“Oh stop it,” Lisa gave your arm a little slap. “Based on your night, I’m your third choice.”

“I… didn’t mean for it to work out like this,” you said disheartedly. “I really like you Lisa, a lot.”

“Alright, I’ll confess,” Lisa began to explain. “The four of us have a bit of a deal, we’re not supposed to hold anything that happens at these parties against each other. Anything.”

“I see… why?”

“Because that’s just how these parties work,” she replied before nervously hesitating. “We’ve all done some… unsavory acts here.”

“If I asked, would you tell?”

“Mine wasn’t that bad, honestly speaking,” Lisa answered. “Just a few execs taking turns, nothing rough, I did most of the work.”

“A few?” you clarified.

“Okay maybe more than a few,” she chuckled. “It was a long night.”

“Honestly I’m not one to judge,” you muttered while massaging one of her butt cheeks.

“And this is why the four of us made this pact,” Lisa continued. “Rosie’s was bad, really bad, I think that’s why Jisoo refused to participate for so long.”

“How bad are we talking?” you asked. “Without going into details.”

“Her’s was a bit more intense on the fetish side,” Lisa answered hesitantly. “I’m just glad there was no recording, but the three of us watched and it wasn’t particularly flattering of her character.”

“I guess that just leaves Jennie.”

“Oh Jennie is the biggest slut ever,” Lisa replied, her tone completely shifting. “When she first came to one of these, there wasn’t even a promise of a solo. She was just a complete slut and couldn’t satiate her cock cravings.”

“She does give me that vibe,” you laughed. “She’s young, rich, and powerful, I guess it’s her right to whore herself out if that’s what she wants.”

“Jisoo told me you were a bit rough with that slut,” Lisa whispered as she climbed on top of you.

“Only because she deserved it.”

“Yeah? Did you fuck that little slut?” she moaned, grinding her body on your crotch, forcing the blood to rush to your cock. “Did you fuck her hard?”

“I did,” you grunted as Lisa pressed down harder.

“I don’t believe you,” Lisa teased as she slipped off her top, leaving her straddling your body with just a thin piece of cloth barely eligible to be called a bra covering her torso. “Why don’t you show me how hard you fucked her.”

She was too much for you. Ever since you first saw her on the dance floor earlier, you had been dreaming of this moment. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined it to come true, especially this quickly; Even then, you simply did not have it in you to wait any longer. You grabbed her waist and flung her around onto the bed, slamming her back into the soft cushioning.

“Oh!” she squealed as she instinctively wrapped her legs around you. “Is baby boy going to plow my little pussy?”

“Is that what baby girl wants?” you replied while dropping your pants. You started rubbing your cock against her panties.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Lisa whined, her cuteness overpowering you. “I’ve been such a good girl, I waited for you to fuck Jennie, then-”

“Shh,” you hushed her with a finger against her lips. “I’d pick you over either of them.”

It was Lisa’s turn to flip you onto your back, shocking you with how much strength such a small girl had.

“You sure? That kiss sounded pretty passionate,” Lisa smirked, removing her tiny bra.

“You listened?” you asked while grabbing Lisa’s ass with both hands, pressing down into the beautiful cushioning.

“I watched,” Lisa moaned, bending over your body, pulling her panties to the side.

“Naughty girl,” you grunted as she put your tip right up against her pussy.

Your mind went completely numb - how could a girl be this fucking tight? Her pussy was easily the tightest you have ever had. You almost considered looking for some lube, which probably wouldn’t be too difficult to find after hearing about Jennie’s tendencies.

Lisa’s core muscles were captivating your attention - as much as you could spare. Her flexed body as she started riding you looked fucking amazing. She was so small, yet her body was so hot, toned and muscular. Just like the dance floor earlier, she moved in ways you didn’t know were possible, the tightness of her pussy being no point of contention.

She rode you for a bit longer, each time her body bounced on your cock it filled you with energy. Enthusiasm began filling your body, and soon you found yourself thrusting your hips upwards into her tightness. Sweat began dripping off her, yet she still rode with the same level of energy and commitment - this girl didn’t believe in laziness.

After just a bit more, you decided she earned a break. It was time for her to let you do the work. You let go of her ass, sure you left an imprint of your hand with how hard you were gripping it, and you slid your hands up her sweaty body towards her hips. In one swift motion, you cock never leaving her pussy, you flipped her onto her back.

“Oh baby boy,” she huffed, falling onto her back, her hair splayed all over the bed. “You’re so fucking hot.”

For just a moment, you explored her toned core with your hands while you bent over her body and sucked on her neck. The salty sweat of her skin was like fuel for your cock, and slowly you began thrusting into her pussy which was as tight as ever.

Despite her pussy making it difficult, you pushed harder, essentially forcing yourself into her body. You could even feel her trying to push back towards you, at least as much as she could while on her back, but you didn’t need her help. You just needed her.

It was already getting comfortable, or rather your lust for Lisa’s pussy was just overwhelming the difficulty of taking it. Either way, your cock began to pump inside her, relishing in the pressure. Slowly but surely you began to speed up, thrusting your hips deep into her at every opportunity. Your cock never went half way, each thrust shoved it as deep as possible.

Lisa’s arched back would have been enough to let you know how much she liked it, but her moaning was just exemplary. She had no shyness when it came to being vocal, encouraging you to keep fucking her tight little pussy with her words, her incoherent words which made absolutely perfect sense.

It was unclear how long you fucked her like this, at this point you basically felt drunk, completely intoxicated on Lisa’s body. She was just so tight. You grabbed the backs of her thighs, your hands sinking into her softness, and pushed them forward. Her knees went up towards her chest, and the modified position by some miracle made her pussy even tighter.

“Holy fucking shit Lisa,” you cried, pushing your cock as deep as the new angle allowed. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Fuck me baby boy,” she hummed, her smile showcasing those adorable dimples. “Fuck this little pussy good.”

Her tightness was building up the pressure too quickly, your cock barely listened to you anymore. You couldn’t cum yet, you were far from done with Lisa’s pussy. Swiftly, you withdrew your cock, pulling back all the way and shoving your face between her legs before she could voice her displeasure.

Disappointed or not, you had no idea, but Lisa wrapped her legs around your head. Her thighs squeezed the sides of your face as your mouth filled itself with her pussy. You shoved your tongue all over her folds, licking her up entirely before plunging it inside. The tightness fought back, but ultimately you won, shoving your tongue into her pussy and licking from the inside.

Her pussy tasted just as addicting as it felt. You felt her hands grab your hair, pulling each time your tongue hit the sensitive parts. Breathing was becoming difficult, yet you were delighted just inhaling Lisa’s little pussy.

Lisa must have been delighted as well, as you could feel her thighs squeezing harder and harder against your face. Her pussy was leaking more and more, the wetness covering your tongue until there was too much. You licked through, not caring about the mess all over your face, when suddenly Lisa began crying out.

A gush of liquid rushed out of her pussy and onto your face with force. Some of it even flew up, and you felt it land on top of your head. So, Lisa was a squirter. It was physically impossible to lap up everything that was shooting out of her pussy, despite your best efforts. She kept squirting, and you could feel drops landing as far as your back, the image of her wetness flying over your body flashing through your mind.

After licking her up, making sure your saliva covered every piece of skin between her legs, you pushed her thighs apart. You would have happily sucked on her pussy longer, maybe even all night if she was willing, but your cock was itching to get back inside her.

Lisa completely revitalized the lust burning inside you, even after all you did today, you somehow couldn’t get enough of her. You stood up from the bed, grabbing her hands and pulling her towards you.

At first she was confused, but then she quickly realized what you wanted. She hopped up into your arms, wrapping her arms around your shoulder while you grabbed her soft ass from below. With her legs encasing your body for support, you grabbed your cock and fumbled around until you found her pussy again.

Thankfully, she was light, and holding her up was no issue. With her help, the two of you adjusted until your cock pushed inside her pussy. You began to bounce her up and down, the tightness of her body becoming comfortable to you now.

Her small tits were pressed right up against your face, and you took the opportunity to suck on her nipples. She was sensitive, very sensitive, and she immediately moaned as soon as your tongue touched the little nub. You sucked and licked, alternating between the two, until you no longer had the energy.

Your grip on her ass was beginning to slip, the sweat making it difficult to hold her up. Your cock was burning up, getting close, but you didn’t have the strength to hold her up anymore.

You collapsed onto the ground, fatigue hitting you like a truck. Lisa fell with you, her tight pussy keeping your cock inside her. She kissed your mouth a few times, but you didn’t have the energy to kiss her back. Luckily she didn’t seem to care, and she was already twerking her pussy on your cock.

There was no more control of what was happening, your orgasm was coming and there was nothing you could do. Holding back was no longer an option, Lisa was going to ride it out of you. She kept kissing you while her pussy kept bouncing up and down.

After some unknown amount of time, everything was a blur at this point, you felt an intense rush of pressure down your spine. Your cock had been building up pressure, and just like that it became too much. That first shot of cum went deep through Lisa’s body, you could feel the force. This was easily your most intense orgasm of the night.

“Fuck Lisa,” you cried out as she immediately jumped off your cock with nimble precision and repositioned herself, making the second blast of cum launch directly up into her face, hitting her on the nose.

She put her mouth on your tip, holding her hair back with one hand, her lips pouted over your tip creating a tight seal. Your next few blasts went straight down her throat, you had no idea how there was still so much power.

Lisa’s lips moved back and forth slightly, sucking the cum straight out of you, not giving your sensitive cock even a second of reprieve from her desires. Eventually you felt the pressure of your blasts calm down, but Lisa still kept sucking on your tip. Wasting cum was not an option.

“Lisa please,” you begged, your hands balled up in fists.

She looked up at you, the sexiest gaze you’ve ever seen, and she lifted her mouth just above your cock. Her lips parted, and a rush of white goo spilled out, coating your shaft like a waterfall. Without even giving you time to react, she plunged her mouth all the way down your cock again before slowly lifting her face up, all of the cum that spilled being recollected in her mouth.

“Holy fucking shit,” you sobbed, the sensitivity in your cock becoming too much. “I fucking love you Lisa.”

Her smile was to die for, she just knew how to make you fall for her. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and gulped, sending your cum straight down her throat. With a satisfying gasp, she opened her mouth, smiling brightly.

“Yummy,” she giggled, crawling forward and laying on your chest.

“Is the… girlfriend thing… still… an option?” you panted, wrapping your arms around her. “Please?”

“I’ll consider it in the morning,” Lisa smiled at you. “I don’t think Rosie is coming tonight, wanna sleep with me?”

“I wanna sleep with you every night,” you sighed, suddenly full of emotion.

“Let’s talk about that more tomorrow,” Lisa laughed before kissing you. “Not right after you cum in my mouth.”

“Does that mean I’m not cumming in your mouth tomorrow?”

The last thing you remember was Lisa’s adorable giggle before your world turned to black, fatigue knocking you out completely.

—

Waking up to a familiar sensation is always nice, but waking up to a mouth around your cock was the best.

“Oh baby,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “Lisa, What time is it?”

“Not Lisa,” a soft Australian accent pleasured your ears.

Your eyes shot open and you sat up, realizing you were still on the floor, completely nude. Between your legs was a slender girl - one who was most definitely not Lisa. She didn’t even bother looking up at you, she was too focused on your cock.

It was like she was worshiping it, planting kisses all over. Her tongue ran up and down your length, then her lips pressed against your shaft, she was tasting your cock entirely, putting extra focus on your balls. You were stunned, your freshly woken up brain not piecing together what was going on.

“Who…?”

“You can call me Rosie,” the girl sang with that beautifully intoxicating accent. “Or baby, that sounded pretty nice.”

“What…?”

“I’ve realized something tonight,” Rosé said while licking your cock between words. “Some guys just don’t give a shit.”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not asking for much, just someone to put their dick in me and move their hips a bit,” she sighed. “Having a huge cock doesn’t give you an excuse to just lay there like a fucking starfish.”

She moved her face lower, putting your balls in her mouth and shaking her head side to side, coating them in her saliva as well. It was so casual for her, she almost seemed uninterested, yet at the same time she seemed obsessed with your balls.

“Can you believe I did everything for him,” Rosé continued after exhaling heavily, now finally looking up at you. “He didn’t even have the decency to make me cum one time.”

“Rosie, I have no-”

“Baby,” she cut you off. “Baby definitely sounds better.”

She put your cock back into her mouth, making a twisting motion with her hand gripped around your shaft while her tongue focused on your tip. She prodded your entrance lightly, licking circles around it, while her hand stroked you until you were rock hard.

“Umm, alright, baby,” you stuttered, the feeling around your cock making it extra difficult to focus. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not important,” she released your cock with an audible pop. “All that matters is that I was with a disappointment tonight, and now I want to be with someone who cares.”

“How do you know I’m that person,” you moaned, each word becoming more difficult as she stroked your cock. “Maybe I’m just as bad.”

“Unlikely,” Rosé laughed. “This is the first time Lisa has ever let a guy stay the night, and based on what you were wearing when I walked in, I have a feeling I know what the two of you were doing.”

“I don’t think Lisa would be fond of it,” you said while grabbing Rosé’s wrist, stopping her strokes.

“Just don’t tell her, then,” she suggested, bringing her other hand to your cock. “I won’t.”

“Even if I wanted to lie to her, which I don’t, there’s one issue,” you replied, turning your head towards the bed and nodding with your eyebrows raised.

Rosé shook her head, chuckling lightly before turning as well.

“Lisa-yah! Can your friend fuck me?” she shouted towards the bed.

“Mmmm,” Lisa moaned.

“Is that a yes?” Rosé shouted again.

“Yeah,” Lisa sighed, not wanting to get out of bed. “Just don’t be so loud…”

“See,” Rosé smiled. “She approves.”

“I don’t know if that counts…” you hesitated.

Rose rolled her eyes and stood up, leaving your cock awfully lonely. She reached underneath her skirt, one so short it didn’t even make it halfway down her thighs, and slipped off her panties. Picking them up from her ankles, she crouched down next to you and put the blue garment into your mouth.

“Just stop thinking so hard,” she whispered into your ear before sliding down onto your body, running her hands along your chest. “I promise she won’t be upset, you can trust me.”

Right, their little pact. Even if Lisa hadn’t told you about their deal beforehand, for some reason you did trust her. Maybe it was her accent, or that pretty blonde hair that fit her slender body so well. Maybe it was because she introduced herself to you with her mouth around your cock.

Whatever it was, you didn’t even flinch as she began to lower her body onto your lap. She sat down on your cock, reminding you immediately of how sensitive it was despite her pussy being so gentle. Even though she seemed mostly disinterested, putting up the facade of you just being a glorified dildo for her, you could see that she was lusting for someone to actually fuck her properly tonight.

It became your goal to become that someone. Maybe it was because she was hot, stupidly hot. Maybe it was because you wanted to make her cry out with that to-die-for accent. Maybe your libido was malfunctioning, always craving more. Or maybe it was just because she introduced herself to you with her mouth around your cock - that seems to be the trick.

Frankly, it didn’t matter why you wanted to fuck this beautiful girl. It didn’t matter why she wanted you to fuck her, either. What did matter was that you were going to fuck her, and you were done waiting. You pulled the panties out of your mouth and got ready.

“Put it in, baby,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around her waist, resting them on her hips.

She didn’t need to be told twice. With your chests still pressed against each other’s, she reached a hand down from behind her back and grabbed your shaft. Without much teasing, she slowly lowered herself down onto your cock, taking the entire length on the first go.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips the second you entered her. She wasn’t as tight as Lisa, she wasn’t as wet as Jennie or Jisoo, but one thing was certain - she was warm. Her body was like a blanket for your cock, not too hot to where it hurt, but the warmth was screaming to you, describing just how unsatisfied her pussy was tonight: before you.

Your bodies moved in tandem, her hands kept touching you everywhere, and your hips worked as one unit with a unified goal: The goal to make this beautiful girl lose her mind. The more you fucked her, the warmer and tighter she became; She was almost Lisa levels of tight now, but not quite.

“Come on baby, lemme hear you scream,” you grunted, adding some extra force to your hips.

“Keep fucking me like this and you will,” she moaned, the enthusiasm in her riding increasing as well. “Keep fucking me, keep fucking me.”

This was the plan. You clutched her waist and fucked her as quickly as you could. The incessant, never-ending slapping sound of your bodies felt as though it could probably be heard three rooms down - not that you cared. Rosé's face was brimming with delight but the rest of her body froze as you enjoyed her pussy.

“Oh yeah baby,” you groaned, building up a sweat as you exerted all your energy.

“You’re going to make me cum!” she cried out, her accent getting thicker. “Keep fucking me, don’t fucking stop!”

“Cum for me baby,” you moaned right next to her ear, slamming your cock into her as hard as possible. “Do it baby, just fucking do it.”

“Oh fuck,” she cried out one last time before it happened.

She started to cum, a small rush of liquid flowing down onto your thighs. You almost wouldn’t have been able to tell she was cumming, her pussy didn’t pulse like the other girls, but her cries of pleasure were all the confirmation you needed - she was literally sobbing as if you changed her life with this orgasm.

Her fingers were digging into your shoulders as you slowed down your thrusting, making sure she rode out her orgasm to the fullest. You let go of her hips and reached up the back of her skirt, giving her small ass a few squeezes.

With how preoccupied you were with Rosé’s pussy, you didn’t even notice Lisa had gotten out of bed until you felt her hands wrap around your chest from behind.

“Baby boy,” Lisa purred into your ear. “I don’t care if you fuck her, I actually liked watching it, but if you call her baby one more time I’m going to fucking murder you tonight.”

Her threat sent shivers down your entire body. That sweetly cute voice of hers threatening you in such a provocative way, it was almost embarrassing to admit it turned you on more than the girl you were balls deep in right now.

“I’m sorry baby girl,” you moaned back, turning your face to kiss her cheek as she watched you fuck her roommate senseless.

“I’ll forgive you, but you have to work for it,” she whispered as she pulled you down by your shoulders until you were laying on your back, Rosé still riding you slowly the entire time. “Can you give me what I want?” she asked, voice dripping with seduction, holding your head in her lap.

“Anything,” you moaned as you could feel Rosé start to slow down until she stopped riding you completely, holding herself on your cock.

Lisa carefully moved back, letting your head rest on the floor, before she started crawling over your body. The warmth around your cock suddenly disappeared as Lisa’s wet little pussy was held in front of you, and then that warmth was replaced by pure wetness.

Anything, you would do anything to see what the two girls were doing as you felt their tongues licking your cock. The swirling around your tip, the circles around your shaft, up and down your length, a few kisses of wetness against your balls, the two girls had absolutely no holds reserved when it came to rubbing their tongues on your cock.

Inevitably, you felt precum leaking out of your tip, just to be immediately lapped up by one of them - probably Lisa. The other mouth, which you assume was Rosé, began sucking on your balls. It was too much for you, the two mouths on your cock were too good at this.

On top of that, all you could see was Lisa’s pussy in front of you. You couldn’t take it anymore, the wet shine threatening to drip onto your face, but never doing so. You reached up with both hands and grabbed Lisa’s body, plunging her down onto your face.

Immediately, you heard her moan, even with your cock in her mouth. Her pussy filled your senses, giving you a tiny bit of a distraction from the two girls sucking your cock. It didn’t matter though, the second you tasted Lisa’s pussy, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

Your cock immediately began to pulse, you were just seconds away from coating the inside of Lisa’s mouth with cum. You almost wanted to warn her, but your body wanted to make the most of these few seconds, sucking on Lisa’s pussy as hard as you could. At this point you lost all control over your body. Your tongue only knew one thing in the world: Lisa’s pussy.

It wasn’t until your cock paralyzed the rest of your body as it started launching cum into Lisa’s mouth. Lisa stopped moving, holding steady, just using her tongue to help propel your cum down her throat, but Rosé never stopped licking your balls. Even as your cock exploded, Rosé just couldn’t get enough.

Lisa pressed her body down a bit harder on your face, her pussy rubbing up against your open mouth. You didn’t have the motor control to lick her anymore, your mind was too numbed by the orgasm. It was still going, your cock was still launching cum into the warmth of Lisa’s mouth.

As you were starting to get light-headed, either from the orgasm or the lack of breathing thanks to Lisa’s pussy suffocating you, she got off your face and moved her body to the side. Her mouth was still glued to your cock, she didn’t want to waste any of your precious cum, but now she could look at you.

She waited patiently for you to stop unloading before finally lifting her mouth. This time, no cum spilled out of her mouth as she lifted herself up. Leaning forward, pushing her cute tits together with her arms, she stared you dead in the eyes as she swallowed the entire load. No shudder, no shiver, nothing at all to indicate she didn’t absolutely adore swallowing your cum.

“Lisa,” you moaned, completely exhausted.

She looked at you for a brief second before she noticed a few dribbles of cum leak out of your tip, sliding down towards your balls where Rosé was now kissing them repeatedly. The little bit of cum made it all the way down to your balls where Rosé paid little attention - until Lisa lifted her face off your balls.

Lisa leaned forward and kissed Rosé, stealing the tiny bit of your cum that was on her lips, before she bent over your lap again and ran her tongue up your shaft. She really did not believe in wasting a single drop - she was addicted to your cum. After swallowing it again, she crawled over your body until she was laying directly on top of you, while Rosé returned to your balls.

“Remember one thing,” Lisa said softly into your face. “I’m the only one you can call baby.”

“Does that mean we’re officially dating?”

---

A/N:

Yeah... this fic ended up being over 21k words. I guess I still like some things about Blackpink nowadays. Hopefully it was an enjoyable read, I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Anyway, feel free to send me messages or requests or whatever you feel like. Comments, messages, totally up to you guys. Not much else to say, just that I had a lot of upcoming projects that I'm currently working on.

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR BEING SO DAMN SUPPORTIVE. I'll say it over and over and over and over, because I really appreciate the positivity!

[mssalo]

safety - Part: III

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Panic episode/Paranoia, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, he sees stuff that isn't there, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted. Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

10k

Enjoy!

Part I Part II Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The soft afternoon sun filtered through your curtains as you did one last sweep of your small apartment, making sure everything was in place before heading out.

Your camping gear—neatly packed and checked twice—sat by the door, ready for another adventure.

This one felt different, though.

Maybe it was because you’d never gone so far out, or maybe because the spot had been suggested by Joel, the rugged, quiet man who came by at the supply store.

The thought of him made your stomach do a tiny flip, and you smiled to yourself, biting your lip.

Joel.

He was... intense, that was for sure.

Handsome in a way that took you by surprise—older, gruff, with that scruff on his jawline and those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

He’d been kind of closed off whenever you tried to talk to him, always giving short answers, but there was something about the way he looked at you.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag. Don’t get carried away.

Sure, he looked at you sometimes, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary, but that didn’t mean anything.

You were probably imagining it. After all, he was always so reserved, so hard to read.

And you? Well, you were... you.

He probably thinks I’m just a kid, you thought with a small sigh.

Cute, maybe, but nothing more.

You laughed at yourself, shaking your head as the trees closed in around you.

Stop it. Focus on the trip.

You weren’t here to daydream about handsome older men—you were here to camp, to prove to yourself that you could handle this on your own.

He was just... nice, in his own way. That was all.

You couldn’t help but smile as you tossed your gear into the backseat and slid behind the wheel, already feeling the excitement buzzing in your chest.

The open road stretched ahead of you, leading to the spot Joel had mentioned—someplace out past the ridge, quiet and secluded. It sounded like heaven.

The drive was peaceful, your fingers tapping the steering wheel as the scenery shifted from city to countryside.

The trees seemed to grow taller as you left the main roads behind, the air turning cooler and cleaner with every passing mile. You loved this—the sense of leaving the noise behind, of stepping into a world that was all your own. Out here, you could breathe.

The road eventually narrowed into a dirt path, and your car rumbled over the uneven ground as you followed the directions Joel had given you.

The sunlight flickered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.

It was beautiful out here—quiet, untouched, with the kind of peace you could only find miles away from anyone else.

When you finally pulled into the small clearing, you felt your breath catch in your throat. Wow.

The space was perfect.

The trees formed a natural border around the clearing, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The ground was soft with pine needles, and the air smelled fresh and earthy, with just a hint of woodsmoke from somewhere far off.

You stepped out of the car, your boots crunching on the ground, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in.

This is exactly what I needed.

You popped the trunk of your car, the warm breeze rustling through the trees as you grabbed your backpack and gear.

The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the clearing, but you had plenty of time to set everything up before dusk settled in.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you slung the pack over your shoulder and took a deep breath of the crisp, earthy air.

It smelled like pine and moss, with just a hint of the nearby sea.

Perfect.

First things first—the tent.

You dropped your backpack onto the ground and knelt beside it, unzipping the side pocket where you’d stashed the tent poles.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal, and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you pulled them out.

These damn poles always give me trouble.

You spread the tent fabric over the grassy spot you’d chosen, carefully laying it flat and adjusting the corners.

The fabric crinkled under your touch, the sound almost lost in the hum of the wind and distant birdsong. The air was still, quiet, as if the forest itself was holding its breath while you worked.

With a determined sigh, you grabbed the poles and got to work.

The metal clinked softly as you tried to fit the pieces together, but as usual, they resisted you. You grumbled under your breath, fumbling with the last stubborn connection.

After a few minutes of struggling and a minor battle with the pole that just wouldn’t line up right, you finally secured the tent frame, the fabric puffing up as it took shape.

Not bad, you thought with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

The tent stood proudly in the clearing, and you wiped a bit of dirt off your hands, brushing them against your jeans.

You weren’t done yet, though.

With the tent in place, you moved on to your cooking supplies. You pulled out your small camp stove, some pots, and a few basic utensils, setting them neatly near the fire pit.

Everything had a place, and you liked knowing where everything was. Organization was important to you—it gave you a sense of control, made you feel prepared for anything.

It was comforting, like you were creating a little slice of order in the middle of the wilderness.

As you set down your cooking gear, your gaze flicked up toward the treeline, where you could just make out the glimmer of the sea through the trees.

The light reflected off the water like tiny diamonds, and you felt a pull in your chest, a desire to sink into that cool water after all your hard work.

Soon, you thought, grinning to yourself.

Just a little longer.

You double-checked your setup, making sure everything was where it needed to be.

The tent was secure, the cooking supplies organized, and the fire pit was ready for later. With everything in place, a sense of accomplishment washed over you.

The silence of the clearing felt peaceful, almost sacred, as if this place had been waiting just for you.

You took another deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, and as you exhaled, you felt lighter, freer.

It was just you and the wilderness now, the weight of the world falling away. And with that thought, you couldn’t resist any longer.

You straightened up, glanced back at the sea shimmering in the distance, and a surge of excitement bubbled up inside you.

Without thinking, you raised your arms toward the sky and let out a loud, joyful, “Wooooohooo!”

Your voice echoed through the trees, the sound dancing on the wind.

You couldn’t help but laugh as the echoes faded, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

It was a small victory, this moment—being here, in this beautiful place, by yourself.

“Thank you, Joel!” you called out, a grin stretching across your face.

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the wind or to yourself, but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t here, but somehow, it felt right to thank him.

After all, he had recommended this place, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the suggestion. You stood there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle in again.

Then, with a smile still tugging at your lips, you turned toward the path that led to the sea.

It was time to reward yourself with a swim, to feel the water against your skin, cool and refreshing.

This is going to be a good trip.

And who knows? you thought, maybe I’ll come back and tell Joel all about it.

· · ──────

Joel had been watching her since she arrived, hidden in the treeline, his gaze sharp and steady. His truck was parked a ways back, well out of sight.

He’d walked the rest of the way, making sure to stay quiet as he moved through the brush, his boots silent against the earth.

He was always careful—old habits from his time in the military never died, and neither did his instinct to remain unseen.

Joel watched her step out, wide-eyed and eager, like she hadn’t the faintest clue about the dangers lurking in a place like this. Even though he’d told her where to come, seeing her here alone had set him on edge.

He had to protect her. Make sure she was safe.

She started setting up her camp, fumbling with the tent poles like he expected she would.

His lips twitched in amusement as she muttered to herself, the poles giving her more trouble than they had any right to.

He watched her struggle, clumsy but determined, and despite himself, he felt his chest tighten again, that same damn feeling that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching her like this, but the more he told himself that, the more his feet stayed planted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree as he kept his eyes on her.

She was smart—he could see it in the way she double-checked everything, making sure the tent was secure, the cooking gear laid out just so.

She wasn’t careless, not exactly. Just… naive.

Still, something about her innocence, her softness, drew him in, despite his better judgment.

As she finished up, he was about to move, maybe head back to his truck and give her some space, but then she did something that made him freeze.

She raised her arms to the sky, her voice bursting out of her in a loud, joyful, “Woooohooo!”

Joel tensed, his instincts flaring, his hand instinctively hovering near his belt. The sound had startled him, snapping him into high alert.

He scanned the area, eyes narrowing, but there was nothing.

Just her. Alone. Safe.

Relief washed over him, but then he felt something else—a strange amusement creeping in.

She wasn’t screaming out of fear. No, she was celebrating, shouting into the empty wilderness like it was hers to claim.

She laughed, carefree and so full of life that it almost… unsettled him. His chest loosened, and before he could stop himself, a low chuckle rumbled deep in his throat.

She had no idea he was there, no idea how close he was.

Then, to his complete surprise, she threw her head back and shouted, “Thank you, Joel!”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, the words hanging in the air between them, the sound of her voice almost too sweet.

His grip on his belt relaxed, his pulse slowing as he realized she was… thanking him.

For this. For bringing her here.

His amusement deepened, and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, and Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice a low murmur as he whispered under his breath,

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

He watched her for a moment longer, her happiness infectious despite himself. She was something different, that much he knew. Something soft in a world that had long since hardened him.

And as much as he knew he should leave her alone, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Not now.

Not when she was out here, completely unaware of the dangers that could surround her at any moment. Because that’s what he was here for, wasn’t it?

To keep her safe. To make sure nothing happened to her.

Joel watched her from the shadows, still on high alert as she busied herself around the campsite. His amusement had faded, replaced by that familiar tension coiling in his chest, the constant need to keep her safe gnawing at him.

It didn't sit right with him, her being out here all alone.

She had no idea what kind of dangers lurked out in the woods, no clue just how vulnerable she was. He clenched his fists, eyes narrowing as he kept his distance.

She was endearing, sure.

Sweet, even.

But that sweetness was going to get her killed if she wasn't careful. And as much as he wanted to keep his distance, to leave her be, he couldn't. She needs to be protected, he thought, his jaw tightening.

She doesn't even realize how easy of a target she is.

He kept his eyes on her, watching every movement with a careful precision. It wasn't just about keeping her safe from wild animals or the natural dangers of the wilderness.

People-men-could show up.

She was vulnerable in more ways than one, and Joel knew just how ruthless the world could be. His mind was spiraling again, his paranoia threatening to take over, when he saw her heading toward the small lake just beyond the campsite.

His eyes followed her, every muscle in his body tensing as he realized what she was doing.

She was undressing.

Joel's breath caught in his throat as he watched her pull her shirt over her head, her soft skin catching the light of the fading sun.

His mind screamed at him to look away, to respect her privacy, but his body betrayed him, his eyes glued to her every movement.

She dropped her shorts next, standing there in nothing but her underwear, the curve of her waist and hips on full display.

Joel's chest tightened, that familiar, unwanted heat rising inside him. He swallowed hard, his grip on the tree next to him tightening.

All the blood rushing to his cock.

But then she did something that made his blood boil.

With one fluid motion, she unclasped her bra, letting it tall to the ground.

His eyes locked onto the bare skin of her back, the soft curves of her body now fully exposed. She bent down, slipping out of her underwear, her entire form now vulnerable and exposed to the world.

What the hell is she doing?

A surge of anger flared up inside him. She was defenseless, naked, out in the open with no protection.

If anything-anyone-were to show up, she wouldn't stand a chance.

His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, the kind of things he'd seen during the war, the kind of things that made his skin crawl.

She's making herself a damn target.

Joel's jaw clenched, his fists tightening as he took a step forward, every instinct screaming at him to go to her, to tell her to put her damn clothes back on, to stop being so careless.

But then he froze.

His eyes swept over her again, this time with less anger and more... something else. The tension in his chest shifted, the fire in his veins cooling to a slow burn as he watched her step into the water, her body moving with a grace he hadn't noticed before.

Her bare skin glistened in the fading light, soft and smooth, the curves of her hips and the lines of her back almost too perfect.

She moved so effortlessly, her body swaying gently as she waded into the water, unaware of the eyes on her.

Joel's breath came out in slow, uneven bursts as he watched her. His anger faded, replaced by a twisted sense of admiration.

She was beautiful-there was no denying that. Her body was soft, untouched by the harshness of the world. His eyes traced the curve of her waist, the way her plump ass shifted as she walked deeper into the water.

Joel's chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy as he watched her.

His hand twitched at his side, his mind warring between the desire to protect her and the desire to... take her.

Take her - right here, right now on the forest floor.

His gaze followed the curve of her back, the way her hair floated around her in the water.

She was so oblivious, so innocent, completely unaware of the dangers around her.

And that was what enraged him—the recklessness, the vulnerability.

She had no idea how exposed she was, not just to the world but to him. The thought gnawed at him, tearing at the edges of his resolve.

He should have been disgusted with himself for standing there, hidden in the shadows, watching her like this. But the desire twisted deep inside him, growing stronger the longer he stared.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry, as his eyes roamed lower, taking in every inch of her.

The tightness in his jeans was almost painful, his cock pressing hard against the denim, aching in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

The war inside him raged on.

His mind wavered between the desperate need to protect her and the darker, more primal urge he had no right to feel. He wanted to shield her from the world, from the dangers lurking just beyond the trees.

But at the same time, he wanted to take her in all ways possible, to claim her as his. To fuck into her small body. To make her understand just how much she needed him.

No. Stop.

Joel leaned against the tree, his knuckles white as he fought to steady his breath.

His breath hitched as she resurfaced, water cascading down her bare skin like liquid silver.

The way the sunlight danced across her damp figure, catching on every curve and hollow, made her look almost unreal—like something ethereal, pulled straight from a dream.

Her skin shimmered in the fading light, her hair slicked back, clinging to her neck and shoulders in wet strands that only accentuated the softness of her features.

She didn’t belong out here.

She looked too delicate, too pure for the wildness surrounding her.

The contrast between the untamed wilderness and her serene, almost angelic form sent a shiver down his spine.

She was grace in motion, completely unaware of how vulnerable she was.

Each movement she made, each ripple in the water as she waded further in, was almost hypnotic, drawing him in deeper.

He had seen a lot in his life—too much.

The ugliness of the world had hardened him, left him numb to the softness it still had to offer.

But now, watching her, something in him cracked.

It wasn’t just the lust. It was something else.

Something about the way she seemed to glow in the dying light, so peaceful, so unburdened by the weight of the world.

She was everything he wasn't—everything he’d lost a long time ago. Ethereal, untouchable, and yet here she was, right in front of him.

Joel felt the pull again, that urge to protect her, to shield her from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life. But more than that, he wanted to keep her for himself, to have her softness against all his rough edges.

And in that moment, he realized, there was no going back.

Joel's jaw clenched as she started to wade back toward the shore, the water slipping down her body, revealing more of her as she emerged. The way the droplets glistened on her skin, made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away.

His pulse quickened, the primal urge to keep watching nearly overwhelming him.

But then, Joel forced himself to look away.

Not yet.

His fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

He wanted to see her fully, to drink in every inch of her-but not like this.

In due time.

The thought stirred something deep inside him, the hunger gnawing at him even more fiercely.

He swallowed hard, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls.

Joel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down, forcing his gaze back to the safety of the trees.

· · ────

The sun had finally dipped behind the trees, casting long shadows across your camp.

You moved around with a sense of contentment, the cool evening air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Everything felt peaceful—the kind of peace that you didn’t often get to experience in your daily life.

You set about lighting the small lantern, but as you reached for your flashlight to help navigate the growing darkness, a frown crossed your face.

“Where is it…?” you muttered, going through your bag again.

You checked each pocket carefully, but no flashlight.

You’d been so sure you packed it.

With a sigh, you knelt to check your gear one more time, shaking your head at your forgetfulness.

But then, there it was.

Sitting right in front of the tent flap, the flashlight gleamed in the soft light of the lantern, as if it had been there all along.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes in confusion.

“I swear that wasn’t there before,” you whispered to yourself.

It didn’t make sense.

You hadn’t seen it when you set up the tent, and you definitely would’ve noticed it while sorting through your gear. But after a moment of hesitation, you shrugged and picked it up, flicking it on to make sure it worked.

The beam cut through the growing twilight, casting long, gentle shadows over the campsite.

You felt a little silly for doubting yourself.

Maybe you were just distracted—too caught up in the excitement of the trip.

“Good job, brain,” you muttered with a grin, brushing off the strangeness as you moved on.

As you dug through your pack to prepare for dinner, your hand paused mid-search. You realized something else was missing.

Your lighter.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, slumping your shoulders in frustration.

This was supposed to be the easy part.

You sat back on your heels, glancing around camp, trying to figure out where you might have left it.

But before you could even get up to start looking, something caught your eye.

A lighter.

Sitting near the fire pit.

You squinted, taking a step closer. It wasn’t just any lighter.

It had a goofy design on it—bright colors with some sort of cartoon character.

You raised your eyebrows, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. The lighter had a ridiculous picture of a grinning, cartoonish frog on it, wearing sunglasses. Beneath it, the words “Coolest Camper Ever!” were printed in bold letters.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of it breaking through your earlier frustration.

“What the heck?” you giggled, flicking the lighter on and watching the small flame flicker to life.

“Well, guess this’ll do,” you chuckled, tucking it into your pocket.

You had no idea where this thing came from—it certainly wasn’t yours—but it was too funny to care.

Besides, a free lighter was a free lighter.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of oddness, though. Finding the flashlight and then this strange lighter? Maybe you were just a bit more scattered than usual, but still… it was weird.

You shook it off, letting the humor of the situation lighten your mood as you went back to your tasks.

· · ────

Joel moved like a shadow through the trees, his steps soundless on the forest floor. Years of survival had taught him how to blend into the background, how to become invisible when needed.

This wasn’t his first time sneaking up on someone—far from it—but something about doing it now, with her, made his chest tighten.

It wasn’t the same as before.

No enemy patrols, no immediate danger. But there was a weight to this, a tension that hadn’t been there for years. He was on edge, his senses heightened, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring.

She hadn’t noticed him yet. Not once.

That fact gnawed at him, frustration bubbling under the surface. She was so damn easy to watch, so completely unaware of the world around her.

It bothered him how vulnerable she was, how easily someone could sneak up on her like this.

Like he was doing.

But that's different.

As he moved closer, crouched low among the trees, he caught sight of her bent over her bag, her back to him as she searched for something.

nice view.

Joel quickly dismissed the thought.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her every move, assessing the scene like he had a hundred times before in far more dangerous situations.She was clumsy, fumbling with her things, but she didn’t seem to care.

Didn’t seem to realize how exposed she was.

Joel moved closer, his heart beating steadily in his chest, the thrill of sneaking up on her stirring something dark inside him. He reached into his bag, picking up the flashlight with ease, his rough fingers brushing against the cool metal.

He considered leaving it there for her to find but decided against it. She didn’t deserve to fumble around in the dark. Not on his watch.

Instead, he stepped toward the front of her tent, staying just out of her line of sight.

He placed the flashlight down carefully, making sure it was in a spot where she’d see it right away.

Then, he stepped back, blending into the shadows, watching her from his cover.

The satisfaction he felt when she spotted the flashlight was immediate, that small spark of pleasure flaring up in his chest as she picked it up, her face lighting up with a smile.

She thought she’d just found it by chance, like it was some kind of lucky accident.

Joel’s chest tightened at the sight of her, the tension in his muscles easing for a moment as he watched her laugh softly, holding the flashlight like a prize.

Sweet, sweet girl, he thought, his lips twitching into a small, satisfied smile.

Helping her, watching her without her knowing—it stirred something in him, something deeper than just the need to protect.

He liked seeing her happy, seeing that soft, innocent smile on her face.

And maybe, just maybe, he liked knowing that he had a part in it.

But as she continued with her setup, completely oblivious to his presence, Joel’s satisfaction turned to frustration.

She was too trusting, too naive. Anyone could sneak up on her like this—hell, anyone could do worse. The thought made his stomach churn.

She was easy prey. He could see it. Anyone with the wrong intentions would see it.

That didn’t sit right with him. She should have been more aware, should have been on edge, watching her surroundings like he was.

Instead, she was just… carefree.

Smiling to herself, humming that soft tune, completely at ease.

Joel’s hand clenched around the lighter in his pocket, his thumb brushing over the ridiculous cartoon frog on the side.

He almost didn’t bring it—didn’t want to be caught with something so ridiculous—but it was the only spare lighter he had on him.

He’d groaned internally when he fished it out earlier, irritated by the childish design. But now, watching her, it felt like it fit. She was the kind of person who would laugh at something like that, who would find it cute instead of stupid.

Joel moved again, slipping the lighter out of his pocket and placing it by the fire pit while her back was still turned. He retreated quickly, his heart pounding a little faster as he watched her from the shadows.

Her reaction was immediate. She spotted the lighter, her eyes widening in surprise as she reached for it.

She held it up, inspecting the cartoon frog, and then let out a soft laugh.

Joel shifted slightly, his eyes still locked on her as she moved around the camp, still smiling to herself, still humming that soft tune.

A mix of pride and something darker twisted in his chest.

She’s doing alright, he thought, his eyes softening for just a moment.

She’s managing.

But it didn’t change the fact that she shouldn’t be out here alone. So damn easy, he thought, his grip tightening on the tree next to him.

She wouldn’t be easy prey for anyone else.

Not while he was around.

· · ────

The night had grown darker, the soft glow of her campfire flickering against the tall trees.

The shadows seemed to stretch and shift as the wind rustled through the leaves.

She was oblivious to how exposed she was—how vulnerable. Joel could see it, though, with each breath he took, his eyes fixed on her.

Then it happened.

A sudden thud and a sharp, startled yelp echoed through the still night air.

His body reacted immediately.

Joel’s heart lurched, and his mind instantly raced back to those moments he tried so hard to forget—those moments where a single sound could mean life or death.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. His hand reflexively reached for his knife, muscles coiled, his senses heightened. Without thinking, he moved forward, his feet silent against the earth, ready to act, ready to fight.

His breath came fast and hard as his eyes locked onto her form.

She was sitting, clutching her knee, her face twisted in a mix of pain and frustration.

“Stupid root,” she muttered to herself, clearly frustrated.

She wasn’t in any real danger—just a small cut, a scrape from tripping over one of the tree roots near her tent.But Joel couldn’t process that right away.

All he saw was blood.

And in his mind, that blood meant danger.

His fingers twitched around the handle of the knife, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as the past threatened to swallow him whole. Memories slammed into him—the screams, the gunshots, the sight of bodies crumpling to the ground.

He couldn’t lose her, too.

His mind flashed back to another time, another place, where he couldn’t protect someone. Someone who depended on him.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Not with her.

She shifted, wincing as she gingerly touched her scraped knee, bringing Joel back to the present.

His chest heaved with heavy, erratic breaths as he forced himself to focus on her—on the here and now.

She wasn’t hurt. Not really. But she was vulnerable. Alone.

And she had no idea how easily that could change.

Joel gritted his teeth, the panic still clawing at the edges of his mind, even as he crouched back into the shadows, watching her, making sure nothing else was lurking in the dark. His grip on the knife loosened, but only slightly.

Her yelp still rang in his ears, echoing in his mind like the sounds of explosions, of soldiers calling out for help, of people he couldn’t save.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to pull himself out of the spiral, but the need to protect her—to keep her safe—burned hotter than anything else. It consumed him.

Joel blinked, his eyes snapping open, refocusing on her.

She was bandaging her knee, her movements slow but steady.

She didn’t realize how close she’d come—how easy it was for something to go wrong.

She never did.

Joel swallowed hard, pushing the memories down deep where they belonged, forcing himself to stay in the present. She finally stood up, brushing herself off with a soft sigh of relief, and Joel let out a shaky breath of his own. She was okay. For now.

But that fear, that suffocating terror of losing her, lingered in his chest, gnawing at him, refusing to let go.

As Joel watched her by the fire, his mind began to drift, despite his efforts to keep it anchored in the present.

He should’ve been focused, alert, scanning for threats the way he used to on patrols. But tonight, his attention wavered, his thoughts tugging him back to a place he’d rather forget.

The darkness around him wasn’t just the night anymore.

It felt like the blackness from years ago, the same emptiness that had swallowed him whole when the world had gone to hell.

The firelight flickered against her face, soft and warm.

A shadow of something ugly crept over his chest, a weight pressing down on him as memories surfaced.

Old sounds echoed in his ears—the screams, the gunfire, the deafening silence that always followed. He blinked hard, trying to shove it all away, trying to stay here, in the now.

But the harder he fought, the more it pressed in. His jaw clenched as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his fingers digging into the ground beneath him, grounding himself.

He wasn’t back there. Not anymore. He was here, with her.

Watching her.

Focus.

But the silence around her, her obliviousness to what could be lurking in the shadows—it made him feel the same helplessness he had felt back then.

It crawled under his skin, a sickening reminder of what happened when you let your guard down, when you trusted too much.

His heart pounded in his chest as the old memories of blood and failure threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t lose control. Not here. Not now.

He was responsible for her, for keeping her safe. That’s what mattered. That’s why he was out here in the dark, crouched behind trees, sneaking around like a damn ghost.

But the sight of her, so unaware, so damn vulnerable, gnawed at the edges of his mind, warping the lines between past and present.

A flash of something dark ran through his mind—her, crumpled, broken, hurt, blood on her soft skin. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting off the images.

No.

Not her.

It was just his mind playing tricks on him. The way it always did.

He forced his eyes open again, and there she was—still sitting by the fire, completely unaware of his presence. Alive. Unhurt. Fine.

But the fear wouldn’t leave him.

He’d seen too much, lost too much. And he couldn’t shake the thought that she was going to slip through his fingers just like everything else had. His muscles tensed, his hands shaking slightly as his breath came faster.

He had to stay calm, had to stay in control. But the firelight flickered against her skin, and the memory of another fire, another moment he couldn’t change, flickered in his mind.

He was back there, just for a moment—back in the dirt, the weight of the gun in his hands, the scent of burning wood and flesh thick in the air.

He blinked, shaking his head, trying to drag himself out of it. His fingers curled into fists, grounding himself in the rough texture of the earth beneath him.

She’s not them, he reminded himself again, his breath coming fast and ragged. She’s not them. She’s here. You can protect her.

But the fear was relentless.

His need to protect her was more than just that. It was the only thing tethering him to reality, to something other than the nightmares.

If he could keep her safe, if he could make sure nothing happened to her, then maybe he wouldn’t have to drown in the guilt and the memories that haunted him every night.

Joel wiped a hand across his face, the weight of it all pressing down on him as he forced himself to focus on her again.

His chest rose and fell with shaky breaths as he stood up, retreating back to the shadows. He would watch her, make sure nothing happened to her.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay for one more night.

· · ────

Joel’s breath hitched as he crouched in the shadows, his eyes darting toward every shift in the wind, every rustle of leaves.

Something wasn’t right.

The air felt thick, oppressive, like it was charged with danger, and his gut twisted painfully. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, but the nagging fear only grew stronger.

Something was out there. Someone was watching.

His mind flickered back to the war—how quiet the enemy could be, how they could slip through the trees, undetected until it was too late.

He was trained for this. He knew when something was lurking, waiting to strike. But this wasn’t like before. This was worse.

Joel’s jaw clenched as he scanned the treeline, eyes narrowing at the dark silhouettes of the forest.

The shadows moved, shifted in ways that didn’t make sense.

His heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat trickling down his neck.

They're out there. They want her. They couldn't take you - now they want her.

They’ll take her if you don’t move now.

The thought gripped him like a vice, and before he could stop himself, Joel was on his feet, moving toward her camp.

His hand was still wrapped tightly around his knife, his breath heavy and ragged as he stepped closer. His heart hammered against his ribs, every step bringing him closer to the firelight.

He could see her now—still by the tent, oblivious to what was out there, what was coming. He was sure of it.

The shadows… they were moving too fast. Too wrong. The enemy was here. He knew it.

His eyes widened, panic swelling in his chest. Move faster. Move before they take her.

“Joel?”

Her voice was soft, surprised, and completely unaware of the danger as she turned to face him. Her brow furrowed slightly, confusion flashing across her face as she stepped toward him.

But all he could see were the shadows.

Circling. Closing in.

Joel lunged forward, grabbing her arm with a firm, desperate grip. “We need to go,” he growled, his voice rough and frantic.

“What? Joel—”

“They’re here. Right there in the trees,” he rasped, eyes wild, scanning the darkness behind her. “We need to leave now. It’s not safe.”

She froze, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked around, trying to see what he saw. “I don’t—there’s nothing out there—”

“They’re coming for you,” Joel cut her off, his voice urgent, the raw panic clear in every word. His grip tightened on her arm, and for a moment, the fear in his eyes startled her more than his words.

“Joel, wait,” she said, her voice shaky, but she didn’t pull away. She could feel his hand trembling against her skin, his breath coming out in heavy, uneven bursts.

Her heart raced in her chest as she realized something was wrong. Really wrong.

There was no one in the trees. There were no shadows creeping toward her.

But Joel—he believed it.

She could see it in his eyes, in the way his muscles tensed, the way he scanned the darkness like a man hunted.

He wasn’t seeing what was real. He was lost in something else—something dark and terrifying.

Her stomach twisted with a mix of fear and empathy.

Joel wasn’t trying to scare her. He wasn’t trying to hurt her.

He was trying to save her.

But from what?

Joel’s eyes were wild, scanning the tree line as if any second something was going to leap out and drag her away. His grip on her arm tightened, his knuckles white, and his breathing erratic. She could feel the tension radiating off him, his whole body taut like a coiled spring ready to snap.

The way his gaze darted around, the sheer panic in his voice—she could tell he wasn’t seeing the same world she was.

“They’re here,” he repeated, his voice barely more than a growl. “Don’t you see ‘em? They’re in the trees, waitin’ for their chance. They’re comin’ for you. We gotta go, now.”

Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t see anything. The trees were still, the night was calm—nothing moved except the gentle sway of the branches in the breeze. There were no shadows, no figures lurking in the darkness.

But Joel… he was seeing something. Something awful.

For a moment, panic swelled in her chest, the weight of his fear pressing down on her like a heavy stone.

She wanted to pull away, to run, but she couldn’t leave him like this. His mind was trapped in whatever nightmare had a hold on him, and the only thing that seemed real to him was her.

He thought he was protecting her.

“Joel, listen to me,” she said softly, even as her heart raced. “There’s no one out there. It’s just us.”

But he shook his head violently, his eyes wide, unblinking. “No, no, no, you’re wrong.” His voice was strained, and for a second, she thought he might completely lose it. “They’re watchin’… waitin’. I can’t let ‘em take you. You have to come with me now.”

Her pulse thrummed in her ears, her breath quickening as she watched the battle raging behind his eyes. He was lost in something she couldn’t reach.

She glanced at the woods, her eyes scanning the same tree line, trying to see what he saw. But there was nothing. Only shadows and silence.

“Okay,” she said quietly, forcing herself to stay calm, though her fingers trembled as she gently placed her hand on his. “We’ll go. We’ll leave, alright? But you have to calm down.”

He blinked, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. His grip on her arm loosened, but only a little. His eyes flickered between her and the darkened woods, uncertainty clouding his face.

“Just breathe, Joel,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady, even though the fear still crawled beneath her skin. “We’ll go. I’m right here. Just breathe.”

For a moment, Joel seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting between her and the unseen threat in the trees. His body was still rigid, his muscles coiled with tension, but her voice—her touch—seemed to reach him, if only just a little.

She squeezed his hand gently, her heart pounding in her chest.

“We’ll be okay, Joel. But I need you to calm down. I need you to help me. I can’t do this without you.”

“You’re the only one who can save me,” she whispered, forcing the words through her tightening throat.

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since this episode started. His eyes were still clouded with panic, but there was something else there now—something raw, almost vulnerable.

She was giving him what he needed: a sense of control, of purpose. If playing along helped ease his fear, she’d do it. She’d make him feel like he was saving her.

She didn’t let go of his hand. “Let’s go, okay? We’ll go to the car, and we’ll get out of here.”

Joel hesitated for another beat, his eyes darting back to the trees one last time before he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice strained but quieter now. “But we need to move. Now.”

“Okay,” she agreed, giving him a small, shaky smile. “We’ll go.”

Her heart was still pounding, but she felt a wave of relief as his grip on her arm loosened.

The whole time, Joel’s eyes remained locked on the trees, his paranoia still burning beneath the surface.

She didn’t know what had triggered him, didn’t know what demons had clawed their way into his mind. But she knew one thing for certain—Joel wasn’t in control right now. His fear was.

And as they made their way toward the car, she glanced up at him, her mind racing.

He wasn’t just scared. He was terrified—terrified for her.

But she didn’t let go of his hand, squeezing it gently to pull him back, to ground him in the present. and uncertain, “ I can’t let them take you.”

“They won’t,” she promised, even though the terror in his voice made her own heart race.

“They won’t because you’re here. But I need you to focus on me, alright? Focus on keeping me safe.”

Joel’s eyes flickered again, his shoulders stiff with tension, but he nodded slowly, as if trying to pull himself out of the dark place he’d fallen into.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She shook her head, brushing it off. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just stay with me, okay?”

They reached the car, and she gently guided him toward the passenger seat, her hand still resting lightly on his arm. He hesitated, looking back at the woods one more time, his brow furrowed in deep suspicion.

But when she opened the car door, he finally climbed inside, his breathing still uneven, but not as frantic as before.

As she slid into the driver’s seat, she glanced over at him, her mind racing.

She didn’t know what exactly had triggered him, but she knew she had to get him away from here, had to bring him back to some kind of safety.

He needs help, she thought again, her heart heavy with the weight of the realization.

And despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel the strange mix of fear and concern that tied them together in this moment.

· · ────

Joel’s fingers twitched, his hands balling into fists in his lap as he stared out the windshield, still scanning the woods. The shadows played tricks on his mind, flickering with movement that wasn’t really there.

His chest was tight, his pulse still pounding in his ears.

But when he looked over at her, sitting there, waiting for him to calm down, something inside him clicked.

He couldn’t let her drive. Not like this. Not when the road might not be safe.

“Move over,” he muttered, his voice rough, but less frantic now.

He reached for the keys in the ignition, and she blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing as she glanced at him.

“Joel—”

“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

His gaze flicked toward the dark trees again, the unease still crawling under his skin, but there was a steady determination in his voice now.

“I need to make sure we get outta here.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes soft with concern as she studied his face.

But then she gave a small nod, understanding that he needed this—needed to feel like he was in control again.

Wordlessly, she slid over to the passenger seat, and Joel settled behind the wheel, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He didn’t waste any time, starting the car and pulling onto the narrow dirt road.

The tires crunched over the gravel as they drove away from the campsite, the darkness closing in around them, but Joel’s focus was sharp now.

His jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road, his mind still racing, still half-expecting something to jump out from the shadows.

But there was something grounding about the feel of the wheel beneath his hands, the engine rumbling under his control.

“She’s safe,” he reminded himself. “I’m getting her out.”

The thought repeated in his mind like a mantra, pushing back the lingering panic that had gripped him so tightly just moments before.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not now. Not ever.

He glanced over at her, just for a second, seeing the way she sat quietly beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes flicking between him and the road.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t press him, but he could feel her presence calming him, bringing him back to the present.

But beneath the surface, the fear still simmered, the paranoia still gnawing at him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still out there, watching, waiting. And that made his grip on the wheel tighten even more.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced at him, her expression softening. “You don’t have to apologize, Joel.”

But he did. He had to apologize for putting her in danger, for not being able to protect her. He wasn’t enough, not in that moment. And that thought alone ate at him, twisting in his gut.

The road stretched out in front of them, the trees looming in the distance, and Joel’s mind remained focused, laser-sharp, as he drove them toward safety.

Toward his home.

Where he could keep an eye on her.

Where he could make sure nothing would ever hurt her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well…. that was intense.

(she’s better than me I would’ve ran away screaming)

Horny, people - I hope you can forgive me for not having real smut in this yet.. next chapter is going to be heated, get ready - it’s finally happening.

Again - comment if you want me to remind you when there’s a next part!

xoxo

[theemporium]

Violet fluff 💜 no. 53 W/ Quinn Hughes pls!! Congrats on 10k!!!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

53. “Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved.”

.

You were a mess. 

It was funny that every year your birthday came around and every year, you told yourself that it would be different. You told yourself that you weren’t going to let expectations and past memories ruin your day, that you were going to have a good birthday, that you were going to break the cycle. 

It was funny that you believed yourself every year. 

And this year was no different. 

You pulled out all the stops to ensure that this year would be different. You made plans with a good group of friends you truly appreciated, you had yourself a nice dinner and made sure you had an outfit that made you feel good to go out in. 

Yet, despite all the measures you took, you still found yourself sitting on the side of the pavement somewhere in the early hours of the morning, far too drunk and far too emotional to even call yourself an uber. 

It was a pathetic sight, truly. One you would be far more embarrassed of if you were at least a little sober, but the countless rounds of shots had done well to mask every other emotion except sadness as you sniffled and cried and desperately tried to figure out where you went wrong this year. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

You didn’t even lift your head, waving off the concerned voice as you sniffled. “Y-Yeah, totally fine,” you managed to blubber out. “M’okay, promise.” 

There was a pause before you heard feet scuffling towards you and the person let out a groan as they settled in the spot next to you. 

“Not to sound rude but you don’t look fine,” the voice said, their knee knocking against yours as you finally lifted your head to look at them. 

The blurry vision from your tears made it difficult to see who he was, but you could see vague features. Brown curls, pale skin, a kind smile. All things considered, he seemed like a friendly stranger to your intoxicated brain. 

“Yeah, m’not fine,” you confessed, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“Bad night?” He guessed. 

“Yeah,” you sniffled, looking down at the ground as you let out a heavy sigh. “It’s my birthday.” 

“Happy birthday,” he replied. 

“Thank you,” you paused for a moment before continuing. If you were sober, you would have kicked yourself before unloading on a stranger like you were about to do. But you were drunk and upset and the stranger smelt really nice. “I don’t think I like my birthday. I cry every year. I don’t think that’s a good sign.” 

“You don’t have to like your birthday,” the stranger replied. “That’s normal. Loads of people don’t like their birthdays.” 

“It’s just bad every year,” you confessed, your eyes falling shut as you felt another wave of tears burning to fall. “It’s just so shit. And I feel like I need to make it important every year but there aren't people that make me feel important, you know?” You paused, frowning. “Sorry, that sounded so desperate. I didn’t mean it in a pick-me way but like—”

“Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved,” the stranger assured you, his hand dropping to your knee to give you a soft squeeze of reassurance. “Sounds like you need to find people in your life that appreciate how amazing you are.” 

You snorted a little. “Says the man who doesn’t know me and has seen me sob my eyes out on the side of the road.”

“Well, we can change that,” he said before extending his hand to you. “I’m Quinn.” 

You lifted your head off his shoulder, blinking a few times to look at his outstretched hand before you reached for it. “Hi, Quinn. Nice to meet you.”

.

[xcherricutie]

「 ✦ love doesn't die ✦ 」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[Yandere!Zombie!Silver the Hedgehog × Human!Reader]

[Word Count - 10k]

[Summary - You've been living in an abandoned city for years. You figured your luck had finally run out when an infected hedgehog finds you, but it seems like he's not entirely dead]

[Tags: Zombie AU, reader is a human because I don't like writing anthro readers I'm sorry, Silver is also a bit taller than his canon height because I mean, come on, blood and gore, some guy loses an arm, Silver isn't super yandere for most of it because I suck at writing]

[Notes: First time writing for Silver, don't expect a masterpiece. Also, the ending is kinda doodoo mainly just cause I wrote 8k of this in one day and just wanted to be done, I didn't feel like coming back to work on it haha. I got the inspo for this from another one shot that is WAY better, I was also rereading the zombot arc and needed to do this. NOT PROOFREAD]

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Dark thunder clouds rolled in, covering the overgrown city in a deep darkness. As the city grew darker, flashes of light beamed down the corpse of what used to be a lively city. Turning a corner, the light revealed yet another empty street, much to your relief. Despite having walked these streets every day for the last five years, you were still wary of any signs of life. After all, most life left were the undead, the immortal corpses of loved ones long gone. As far as you knew, you were the only person left alive. You considered yourself especially lucky, you had never even left your apartment building from before everything collapsed. You maintained your old life to the best of your abilities, just with more isolation, and no internet for entertainment. 

You still recalled what life had been like before with vivid recollection. You remembered your old life back in high school, with all of your friends, human and mobian alike. You remembered the fairly frequent emergencies your world used to face, at the hands of a mad scientist. But that was a time gone by, a distant memory soon to fade from this world entirely. Assuming you were one of the only people left alive and sane, you were the sole carrier of those memories. It felt isolating, lonely, but you tried not to let it get to you. You didn’t want to live out your last days miserably. 

Letting the light of your flashlight guide you back toward the safety of your home, you silently walked across the street, glancing around occasionally for any stray undead. You had discovered they tended to stick together, following sounds, likely blind. But the darkness almost heightened their senses, so you had quickly made your way back home upon noticing the signs of a storm. Unfortunately, you hadn’t beaten the dark clouds, and had been forced to use your flashlight. While you were certain most undead were blind, not all were, and that had you worried. Coming across a human undead wasn’t much to stress about either, they were weak, bones and flesh crumbling at the slightest touch. It was the mobians that had you worried. Most mobians had strength beyond the comprehension of humans in their life, and that had carried over into their undead. You had managed to avoid them for the last five years, but that didn’t mean you weren’t stressing over finally finding one every time you went out for supplies and food. 

As the rundown, boarded up apartment building you called home came into view, you let out a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at your lips. Just as you took a step forward, you heard a soft tap behind you, sending a violent shudder up your spine as you whipped around, flinging your flashlight in the direction of whatever had caused the source. The sound of your heart thundering filled your ears as your gaze bounced around in a panic, trying to identify the source. As your eyes fell to the ground, you noticed a tiny, circular dark spot on the ground, a wet spot. Staring at it as your panicked mind tried to piece together what was happening, a swashing sound filled your ears, your body suddenly soaked as the sky poured rain. Finally realizing it was only rain, your shoulders relaxed as you scoffed with a smile, rolling your eyes at your own paranoia. Perhaps isolation had done more damage than you had initially realized. 

Turning around, your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your blood freezing ice cold in your veins as your eyes met a pair of muted golden, bloodshot eyes. Tufts of messy white quills stood tall, nearly taller than you, stained a deep red shade. His maw was soaked in gore, the heavy stench of iron wafting from his being. He stared lifelessly into your eyes, almost as if looking straight through your head. Your mouth hung open, fear freezing your whole body as a silent scream began to build up within your throat. It seemed your luck finally caught up with you, as the especially tall mobian stood before you, his very presence setting your demise. There was absolutely nothing you could do to fend off the mobian, so as your instincts finally began to kick in, you chose the flight option of flight or fight. 

Turning tail, you immediately bolted down the street. Biting your lip to swallow your terrified scream, you glanced back to see if he followed. Your eyes flew wide open as his eyes were directly in your face, his presence filling the air behind you. He was fast. The scream you had bit back finally freed itself as you whirled around, slamming your flashlight into the side of his skull. You had expected the sounds of squelching to fill the air, but you had been surprised by how intact his flesh still was. How great for you. He just so happened to be one of the especially strong mobians. You were thoroughly screwed. 

His head whipped to the side as your flashlight smashed into his temple. The flashlight flew from your grip, momentarily distracting the undead hedgehog as the light whirled through the air. In that single moment of hesitation, you took the opportunity to run away, zigzagging through the dark. You hoped, prayed to anything that would listen that he happened to be at least slightly blind, but your luck had run bone dry as you heard the drum of footsteps just behind you. 

You pushed yourself harder, running as fast as your legs would carry you. If you could just lose him, for just a second, you could wrap back around and run home. You knew the city like the back of your hand, but you couldn’t risk leading him directly to your safe place. No amount of boards and nails could hold something like him back. 

Beginning to pant wildly, your lungs felt dry, suffocating you as you forced your legs to keep going. You couldn’t let yourself die like this, not after how long you had survived. Your eyes brimmed with tears as you swallowed, your mouth burning and dehydrated. But your ears were zeroed in entirely on the footsteps behind you, or rather, the fading sound of them. Pushing yourself onward, you immediately noticed the lack of footsteps behind you. Hope had instantly begun to overflow within you as you turned a sharp curve, circling back to your apartment building. 

Rushing through the doors, you slammed them shut behind you, taking a shaky breath as you slid to the floor. You were fairly certain that whole escapade shaved off ten years of your life expectancy, but at the very least, you were still alive. You supposed somebody out there must’ve heard your prayers, you thought for sure that undead would never run out of stamina. He is undead after all. 

Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you sucked in a deep breath, relaxing against the doors. Just as you thought to get up though, a loud thud rang through the room, vibrating against the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, eyes flying wide open as you forced your back firm against the door. You could nearly feel its presence just beyond the barrier of glass and boards, banging on the wood. 

Sucking in a sharp but silent breath through your teeth, you slid the bag that hung over your shoulders off, freeing your shoulders of its weight. Grabbing one of the loose boards, you steeled your nerves for whatever came after your next move. You knew you didn’t stand a chance fighting him, so you had to find a way to hold him off while searching for an escape route. 

With the remainders of your courage, you lifted yourself off the floor, back still firmly pressed against the door. The slamming grew more violent, almost as if it were getting impatient, the doors rattling as the boards weakened. You could hear the glass beneath the boards begin to crack, soon to give way. Taking a deep breath, you jumped away from the doors, the doors flinging wide open just as the pressure of your body gave way. 

The hedgehog stood before you, his silhouette being illuminated by the strike of lightning in the far distance. His golden eyes, despite being muted by the lack of life, nearly glowed in the dark, highlighting the spatter of blood across his face. 

You had expected him to immediately run for you, but he hadn’t budged from his spot, staring at you with an almost curious-like aura. You held the wooden board tightly in your grip, prepared to use it as a weapon, waiting for the lifeless body to make its move. Your body was nearly shaking now, the effects of your adrenaline beginning to wear off as your exhaustion caught up to you. You grit your teeth and bore through it, but the suspense had begun to take its toll as your body shook with fear. 

Your gaze had shifted down to his feet as you noticed his leg twitch, foot sliding forward ever so slightly, as if trying to sneak up on you. Your eyes widened upon the realization, an audible gasp slipping from your lips as your mind began to panic. It was intelligent, enough to attempt to evade your alarm. Your whole body bristled as your grip on the board tightened, before the tension in your body suddenly snapped. 

Letting out a scream of terror, you swung the board with all of your strength, the end hitting him square in the neck, knocking him to the ground. You lifted the board once more, slamming it on his head, before turning and taking off further into the building. You could hear it let out a frustrated growl, as if annoyed, his blood-soaked boots squeaking against the floor as he rose. But you didn’t dare look back as you ran towards the stairwell, flinging its metal door open and taking shelter inside. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, clicking into place, you ran up the stairs, your mind panicking as you tried to come up with a way out of this. There was no way out of the building other than the entrance that you had come in through. All of the first-floor windows were heavily boarded up, and there was no exit within the basement. The only other way you could think of was the fire exit, which was in the lobby, where the hedgehog hunting you down was. 

Through your jumbled thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed you had made it to the roof of the building until you pushed the door open, immediately being soaked by the onslaught of rain and wind. Thunder cracked in the sky, streaks of lightning flashing in the clouds. Your attention had momentarily been forced on the storm directly above you, before the sounds of footsteps echoing through the stairwell dragged you back into reality. 

You shut the thick metal door behind you, walking toward the edge of the roof. The wind pushed back as you stepped forward, the slick ground making you stumble as you stood over the edge. The drop was far too long for you to make the jump and survive, which meant you were now trapped here, with a hedgehog that had been very persistent in getting to you. This was it. You had finally met your end, after all these years. But you wouldn’t let the undead corpse have its way, even if you had to take your fate into your own hands. 

A loud thud pulled your attention back to the door, the sound repeating as visible indents had begun to form. You inched backwards, ever closer to the edge, until your heel was pressed into the edge, ready to slip with any slight movements. 

And then, with one final violent slam, the door burst open, revealing the infected hedgehog. An almost animalistic look glinted in his eyes as lightning struck, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint aura surrounding him before disappearing in small flecks of glittering light. 

Taking a step forward, the hedgehog was immediately soaked in the rain as he approached you. A sharp gasp pushed past your lips as your eyes snapped from the undead to the edge just behind you. Your foot slipped ever so slightly, a startled cry catching in your throat as your arms flailed, attempting to regain your balance. 

Your heart leapt into your throat as your body tipped over the edge, your mind suddenly in a flurry as you realized this was your end. At the very least, you weren’t going to be eaten alive like you had feared. That was the only comfort you received as you fell over, your balance slipping as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet. 

Eyes squeezed shut, you had expected to feel the wind rush past you, before meeting a swift end. Memories flashed through the darkness at a dizzying rate, your heart beating so fast you thought it’d explode before you hit the ground. You had expected everything around you to disappear, the chill of your soaked clothes fading into nothingness, or the feeling of your heart finally stilling. But the only new sensation that had hit you was the feeling of a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, yanking you upward. 

You felt the air forced from your lungs as your body collided with something wet, freezing cold. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes opened, vision being filled with white despite the darkness. Your nose tingled as strands of fur tickled the tip, leaving behind a cold sensation as your senses were suddenly overwhelmed, overflowing. You were still alive. You had been pulled back up into safety. Or so it had seemed, but the false sense of safety suddenly washed away like the rain as you finally realized what had pulled you back up. 

The hedgehog’s grip around your wrist remained, his other hand now holding your opposite wrist. You stood completely frozen, your mind trying to understand just exactly what had happened. Never, in the last five years of your isolation, living in a world with the undead, had you seen anything of the sort. Not only had every single thing that could walk wanted you dead, but none had the capacity or understanding to save you from death, not even for their own gain. Whatever this thing was, it certainly wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t entirely dead or alive. 

You didn’t know what to do. Judging by the blood spatters dotting his body, the hedgehog was definitely infected. The blood couldn’t have been his own. Which meant that, regardless of his mental capacity, he was still fully willing to eat a living being. Your life was still in danger, even if he had pulled you into some twisted form of safety seconds ago. You were stuck in place, you couldn’t move. Who was to say he wouldn’t sink his teeth into your throat the second you moved even an inch? He certainly had the perfect view of your throat after all, his muzzle leaned against your shoulder. 

After a long moment, one that had felt like years, you finally gave off a sign of life, your wrist twitching in his hold. When he made no efforts to bite into your neck, you gently pulled away just enough to look down at him, to at least try to gauge what was going on beneath the surface. But there was nothing in his eyes to suggest any thought process, no expression that told you he was in control. He simply stared up at you, his eyes shining with the occasional strike of lightning. Even without the sparkle of life, they still seemed bright, a remnant of what once was. 

A particularly close flash of lightning caused you to jolt, eyes going wide. As your facial expression changed, so too did his, eyes going wide slightly, like a delayed reaction. Almost as if mimicking you. You sighed deeply, unsure of what to do. You certainly couldn’t shake the hedgehog, you were stuck with him, but you couldn’t just stand out here and wait for the lightning to finish the job. So, despite what your gut was warning you of, you gave the undead’s hand a slight tug. 

“You, ah...” You paused, half wondering if he could even understand you. What were you even thinking, of course not, but that didn’t stop you from at least trying. “You seem smart. Do you understand me?” 

No reaction. Not even a blink of the eye. You didn’t know what you were expecting, a twitch in his facial muscles or a fully constructed sentence. Regardless, you continued, with the hope that maybe some nerves in his brain were still alive and kicking. He did save you, after all. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.” 

Still unreactive, you decided to just hope your words got through to him, and gave his hand a stronger tug. You pulled the hedgehog slightly, waiting with bated breath for a violent reaction. But he simply let you tug and pull, dragging him back inside, back into the safety of the building. And yet, it had lost its sense of safety as you pulled the undead hedgehog behind you, straight to your safe space, your own room. 

Pushing the door open, a sense of security washed over you, happy to at least be home once again. Even if the hedgehog killed you here, at least it’d be in your home. You had to look on the positive side of having an undead follower for now. 

“This is my home,” You spoke, despite knowing your words would never reach him. You had even shot him a nervous smile, trying to be friendly. It was the least you could do to calm yourself and hopefully the hedgehog as well. Your mind was in shambles. 

“We’ll be safe here. I’ve been here for years.” You said, leading the hedgehog further into your home, telling yourself over and over in your mind to just pretend he was alive. Pretend he wasn’t a threat. 

As you continued to speak, walking around with the infected in tow, you attempted to pull your wrist from his grip, the same wrist he had grabbed to save you. The wrist that he hadn’t released the entire time since pulling you back from that edge. You pulled your wrist away, without even thinking as you spoke all about your time surviving the last few years. It had been your first time talking in years, and had gotten carried away, forgetting that you were still in the midst of danger. You had been forced back to reality as he gripped your wrist nearly painfully tight, pulling you back to his side with force. You looked down at him with wide eyes, your heart rate quickly picking back up as you looked down at him. 

Still showing no signs of life. You didn’t understand what was happening, what was going through that head of his. Some thought must have been present, he had the ability to understand your life had been in danger, he understood to follow when you pulled. He had the ability to resist killing you. So why? Why did he seem so dead, when there was obviously still some amount of life hidden just beneath the blood coated surface? 

“Um... You can let go now,” You tried to calmly say. Instead of seemingly not understanding though, now your words seemed to annoy him, as his empty stare turned into a frustrated look. You felt his fingers tighten around your wrist, his grip quickly growing painful. “I-It’s okay, really. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right here.” 

You hoped that was what he wanted to hear. It was the only thing you could think of that made sense. He didn’t want you to leave his side, but why? Was he saving you for later? Did he still fully intend on taking your life? Why wait? You tried to wrap your mind around the situation, despite knowing there likely was no explanation. At least not one you could get to on your own. Likely, the hedgehog himself was the only thing that knew what was going on. He definitely had some train of thought, you were certain of it now, especially since he confirmed being able to understand you, to some degree. 

“Uh...” Mind scrambling for anything that could help you, you looked around your small apartment, trying to find something to get you out of this situation. “Wh-Why don’t you sit down? Come on.” 

You gave a light tug, trying to direct him to the slightly tattered sofa in the room. He didn’t budge for a moment, staring at you, as if he were eyeing you. But after a second’s passing, he let you pull him toward the sofa, sitting him down. He sat down with no direction at all, which had surprised you, as you didn’t think you’d ever actually seen an infected sitting down. 

You sat down next to him, being sure to put a few inches between you and him. He stared at you once again, putting an unsettling feeling within your being. But just as that feeling began to form, you felt his fingers loosen around your wrist, surprising you. His eyes remained trained completely on you, but at the very least, he seemed calmer. 

As your eyes met his, your brows furrowed as you thought. You had never even thought you’d be in a situation like this. You wondered if you could even take this to your advantage. He didn’t seem to be after your life anyway. 

“You can understand me, can’t you?” You asked. When you received no indication that your words got through, you began to think. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely capable of showing that he understood? He could show facial expressions, but so far you had only seen expressions of annoyance or frustration. Maybe he couldn’t show signs of other emotions. You hummed, finger tapping your chin as you tried to think of something to help you get through to him, or at least form some type of communication. A thought crossed your mind, making you perk up as you jumped to your feet. Your sudden movement clearly startled the hedgehog, but you failed to notice as you rushed past him with a burst of excitement. 

Practically shoveling through a closet of your old belongings and things that just had no use nowadays, you finally found what you had been looking for. You slammed down a pencil and paper on the coffee table before the hedgehog, missing the sudden jerk of his body as you surprised him. You looked up to him with a bright grin, unable to contain your excitement at the idea of getting to study the infected, getting to know him and have a look into his mind, without your life being in danger. 

“Okay, so you obviously have some capacity for thought,” You began, reaching out for his hand. He didn’t resist when you grabbed ahold, placing the pencil in his hand. “Try writing something, anything. A word, a number, your name, whatever you want.” 

The hedgehog just stared at you, unmoving. As seconds began to turn into minutes, you wondered if you got too excited. It did seem silly, now that you thought about it. You had assumed that since he managed to express some emotions, especially to your words, that he had some understanding of language. And he had shown himself to possess some motor skills, so why not writing? At the very least, he could do a little scribbled drawing. But it was pretty farfetched to think that something like him, something lacking thought and morals, could communicate. 

But your thoughts were cut off as you heard the scratching of lead against paper. With much applied force, the hedgehog began to slowly but surely make out letters, and soon, a very poorly written word had been forcefully drawn on the paper. The paper had ripped in some places, and the pencil had broken, making the lead appear rubbed. But despite that, there was still very plainly a word written in large across the paper. “Silver”. 

“Silver...” You squinted your eyes at the paper, before they widened as you made the connection. “Is that your name? Silver?” 

The lack of reaction this time finally confirmed your thoughts. If you had been wrong, he would’ve shown signs of frustration, but there was nothing. This was your sign. You had been right. He just lacked the ability to show other expressions, but still had the ability to think. There were still signs of life inside him after all. 

“Oh wow, this is...” You fell to your knees in front of the table, sitting across from him. You stared into his eyes, momentarily awe-struck. You had found somebody; somebody you could actually communicate with. “I can’t believe it. You can actually talk. I-I haven’t spoken with anyone in years. Wait, can the others talk too?” 

Silver’s brows furrowed slightly, your sign of communication, his version of “no”. You visibly pouted, disappointed by the answer, but you couldn’t be surprised. Silver was the only one who could even think, let alone show emotions. 

You wanted to ask him more. You wanted to get to know him. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, trying to figure out more ways to talk with him. You had come up with the idea of asking him yes and no questions and having him write down the answers on the paper. He had been bad about writing too big to fit multiple words on the paper, which had resulted in you running out of paper and ending up just writing on the wooden table. But you didn’t care at this point, too interested in finding out everything you could about Silver, which ended up being quite a lot. 

You had discovered that Silver was once one of the heroes who used to defend the world from the mad scientist who often put it in danger. You had also found out that he was the very last hero to live in the end, every one of his friends dying off one by one to the virus. Thanks to his psychokinesis, he had survived for years, only recently finally losing the fight. Apparently, he had been searching for the cure all this time, a person with special immunity to the virus. In the end, his efforts had gone to waste though, and he had died. You didn’t even know how to begin to process any of that, and by the time you had found out everything, it was late into the night hours. You were running on fumes, eyes struggling to stay open as you thought of another question to ask Silver. 

Your eyes widened slightly as Silver set the pencil down, leaning back onto the sofa. You couldn’t get past the jarring, dead and empty look in his eyes, which never even blinked. It felt odd seeing him move around, seeing him interact with his surroundings, with you, despite the obvious lack of life. For the most part anyway. 

Silver’s hand caught your eye as it softly pat the sofa next to him. You tilted your head in confusion, before realizing what he meant, surprising you. You didn’t think he was capable of that level of awareness, noticing your own emotions. You let out a soft chuckle as you stood, stretching out with a yawn. 

“I’m still shocked that somebody like you even exists,” You said, giving Silver a smile. You failed to notice the slight twitch of his eyes; the flicker of some emotion hidden deep within him. “I guess all those years of perseverance keeps you going. I bet you could cure yourself if you tried hard enough.” 

You joked, but it also made some amount of sense. He was a super powered hedgehog, far beyond anything like you’d ever seen. If anyone could overcome the virus, it would likely be him. You had assumed at this point that his interest in you was because he’d finally found someone alive, someone who wasn’t braindead. You would quickly find though, that wasn’t the only reason for his interest. 

You had decided against Silver’s offer, telling him you were going to sleep in your own room. He had expressed slight annoyance at this, but calmed down after you told him he could sit and watch for danger in the living room. And while it felt nice to know there was somebody who wanted to protect you now, you also didn’t trust that Silver could control his hunger. So just in case, you had locked your bedroom door. You knew it’d do little to stop him, should he really want to get in, but it gave you some comfort. 

Despite your initial excitement, you couldn’t help the fear that Silver was still a danger to you. He could think and communicate, sure, but did that stop him from eating people? Had he actually eaten anyone before? You didn’t dare ask him, scared it was a touchy subject. He had emotions, so it was obvious he must’ve felt something toward his sickness, his “condition”. He was dead, of course it was a touchy subject. So, you lived in uncertainty now, fearing the day Silver lost control. 

But you’d find out his hunger wasn’t what you had to worry about. You found that out almost immediately the next day, explaining to Silver that you had to go out again and search for food. To put it simply, he was not happy. 

“Silver, I have to go out! I will literally die without food!” You argued, pulling on your wrist as Silver held you tightly. He didn’t move or even budge a single muscle, your efforts doing little to escape his hold. You grumbled in annoyance, glaring down at him. “Would you rather me die? I don’t think I’ll be as lively as you when I’m dead.” 

Your words seemed to cut through whatever stubbornness he had been feeling as he returned the glare tenfold but released you. You huffed, rubbing your pained wrist, turning away from him. You grabbed your bag that you had retrieved from the lobby (without Silver, of course), stuffing inside anything you may need on your trip out. You had to leave space for food though, which meant you couldn’t bring very much with you, aside from a flashlight and a knife. 

“I’ll be fine, Silver, promise. I’ve been doing this longer than you, after all,” You teased, though you’re unsure he found it very humorous. But you didn’t linger on it, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “You could even come with me and help. It’d be nice to have some help for once.” 

This seemed to perk Silver up, as his glare relaxed into that empty look you were coming to know. You smiled, a small chuckle escaping your lips. Perhaps he still retained that heroic personality he had in life, trying to protect you from any and all harm. 

With that settled, you and Silver headed out. Silver took the lead right away, keeping a lookout for any infected. The city was empty and silent, most undead out in the woods, looking for wild animals for sustenance. The eerie silence was still jarring to you, even after all these years. Even with all of the plant life overrunning the city, there was a lack of wildlife. No birds chirping, or squirrels running about. As far as you could tell, Silver and you were the only life for miles. Or so you had assumed. 

A splash of water broke through the silence, drawing your attention as you looked down into the murky puddle your boot had stepped in. Your reflection rippled through its surface before disappearing as you lifted your boot, unsettling the mud. You let out a soft hum, eyes glancing around your surroundings. All was quiet, even with Silver at your side now. You found his silence gave you almost a sense of foreboding. Were the infected all this quiet? 

Your attention focused on Silver; you didn’t even register the sound of water splashing just behind you. You barely had time to process the hand that reached out from behind, a shiver running down your spine as your mind lagged behind, realizing just seconds too late what was happening. 

Silver’s feet dragged as he trudged forward, bleary eyes shifting back and forth as he looked around. All was quiet, and his sharp sense of hearing didn’t pick up anything other than the thuds of your footsteps just behind him. Hearing a splash of water, Silver’s ear twitched slightly, but shrugged it off as your presence. It was strangely quiet, even for him. 

A sharp, shrill scream pierced that silence, startling Silver as he whipped around, trying to focus his eyes, trying to find you. His eyes landed on your form, legs kicking as you tried to fight off the infected that had snuck up on you. Its hand wrapped around your face, other hand holding your shoulder as it leaned in close to your neck. 

Swinging your body back and forth, you tried to shove it off, letting out a startled cry as you felt its hot breath down your neck. Tears brimming in your eyes, you grabbed it by the arm, using all of your strength to fling it over your shoulder. Its body slammed against the ground, the rotten flesh of its arm tearing clean off. 

A shudder ran down your back as you dropped the dead flesh, your blurry eyes landing on Silver as he rushed to your side. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as your peripheral vision caught sight of movement, whipping to face whatever was approaching next. Your eyes widened to see not just a few stray infected, but an entire horde. The streets were filled with undead, the putrid scent of death hitting your nose. 

“Th-They’re everywhere,” You muttered, turning to look at Silver. If an infected could look panicked, Silver surely did right now. His eyes were wide, shoulders stiff as he leaned closer to you, as if to try and protect you. But even Silver couldn’t fight off an entire horde, he had found that out in his final moments of life. 

The storm had to have led them in, you assumed. They relied on their sense of sound and must’ve lingered even after the storm passed. They had you and Silver completely surrounded, and there was nothing you could do to get through. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing growing erratic as your eyes darted around for any kind of escape. 

Body trembling, you felt your knees grow weak with fear as you realized, this was likely your end. It had been just your luck to finally find someone who could change your life, only to have it all ripped away from you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you noticed the infected beginning to approach, your tears streaming down your face as you tried to shut the world out. 

Just as you closed everything out though, you felt a cold hand wrap around your own, fingers squeezing gently. You peeked your eyes open, meeting the pair of golden eyes you thought you’d never get the chance to see again. But something was different, there was a whole new layer of color to them, a turquoise aura surrounding both you and him. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. It was the smallest upturn of his lips, crinkling his muzzle ever so slightly. You hadn’t even thought it possible for him to make any expressions other than aggravation, but in your final moments, he had given you the comfort you didn’t even realize you desired for all these years. 

Your mind had been distracted from what you had assumed would be your final few seconds in life, your eyes entirely on Silver. Something about your gaze, the way your eyes lit up upon seeing his smile, it made something deep within Silver flutter to life. Something he had rarely ever felt, even in his days alive. It gave him the strength to use up what little power he had access to in his rotten body, lifting his body from the ground. You hadn’t even realized what was going on, having closed off the world as your mind focused entirely on Silver’s face, on his smile, his soft and kind eyes. It wasn’t until your feet had left the ground, did you finally come back down to Earth. 

Your eyes widened as you looked down, the ground getting further and further away as Silver lifted you just above the infecteds’ reach. Your eyes practically lit up with exuberance, nearly welling with more tears as you realized Silver had once again saved your life. But that excitement quickly dissipated as your eyes met his, noticing the strained look written across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a soft groan as the aura surrounding you had begun to flicker and disappear. He had just barely managed to land on the roof of a tall building, thankfully with no entry to the roof. They were safe, for the time being. 

“Silver, that was amazing!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him without even thinking. Silver’s eyes widened as he felt you squeeze him close, muttering words of thanks over and over as you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

A sharp jolt burst through Silver’s body, causing him to twitch slightly in your hold. It felt electrifying, like something within him had been shocked to life. It almost felt as though his heart had been jumpstarted, his cold, dead body, blood that had long since stagnated beginning to heat up his body. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that your touch had brought his body back to life, more so that it had given life to a brand-new feeling, an indescribable feeling that Silver immediately knew he had to protect at all costs. 

“Oh, but...” You pulled away slightly, much to Silver’s dismay, as you cast your gaze over the edge of the building. The sky was still cloudy, blotting out the sunlight, the wind sending a chill down your spine. “We’re stuck up here now. Do you think you could fly the rest of the way home?” 

Silver frowned deeply, giving you your answer. You sighed, shoulders drooping in disappointment. That meant, that until the horde either dispersed, or Silver gained enough energy to fly once again, you were stuck up here. And the fact that you had yet to eat anything today was finally starting to catch up with you, your body feeling tired and weak. 

Your gaze lifted back up to Silver’s, finally realizing your arms were still wrapped around him. You could barely even recall the fact that he was dead anymore, the only reminders being the sickly sweet smell coming from him, and the droopiness of his eyes. But the way he held you softly in his arms, the smile he had given you to comfort you in what could’ve been your final moments, it felt so much like a real person. Like there was still somebody in there. Somebody who cared for you. 

“Can you smile again?” You asked, both genuinely curious, and missing the presence of his smile. Silver seemed a bit caught off guard, his body tensing slightly. His hands pulled away from you, leaving a cold, empty feeling where they had been, which you ignored. It had been far too long since you felt physical contact with another being. 

Silver’s cheeks twitched slightly as he struggled to curl his lips upwards. He had even squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull his lips upward, but they simply wouldn’t budge. You frowned slightly, wondering if doing even the simplest things overexerted his muscles. They were pretty much dead, after all. It was shocking he could even do it before. 

Letting out a frustrated growl, Silver lifted his fingers to his cheeks, pushing the corners of his lips upward. Your eyes widened at the annoyed hedgehog who forcefully turned his lips upward, giving him a very strange and almost scary appearance, had you not known what was going on. For a moment, you could only stare in pure surprise, before a sputter of laughter escaped your lips. Covering your mouth, you tried to hide the laughter that bubbled up within you, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped. Soon enough, your hidden giggles turned into uproarious cackling, sides nearly splitting as you doubled over. 

Like an infection, your euphoria spread to Silver, nearly having to do a double take as you caught sight of his face. His lips had been pulled into a tight smile, mimicking your own. His sharp canines stood out, stained slightly red, his gums showing from how hard he was pulling. But despite that, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling within you at the sight, chuckling. 

“You have a lovely smile, Silver,” You said, your words causing Silver to falter, his lips trembling. It felt like his heart was trying to stutter back into life, almost painfully so. He didn’t think he’d ever felt an emotion as strong as what was going through him now. And your words only made it worse as you continued. “I’m so glad I met you.” 

Silver knew from that moment that he needed to keep you, he wanted you at his side, forever. 

It had taken a few hours, but the horde of the undead had finally begun to disperse, following sounds in the woods, looking for their next meal. Silver had also gathered just enough energy to fly back home, holding you tightly, taking every chance he could to squeeze you against his own body. You were so warm against him; it was becoming addicting. 

Before finding you, Silver had assumed there was no life left aside from the occasional wild animal. But even those were becoming rare. He thought it a curse that he could see the world around him, that he still had some thought and comprehension, but that he lacked control of his own body. It wasn’t until he saw you for the first time, roaming the dark streets, did he finally feel like himself. He needed to see you, to see an actual living being. He had died all alone and thought the rest of his undead life would be the same, and you changed that. You were like his lifeline, keeping him connected with his humanity. He needed you. 

Once you had made it back home, you made sure to lock the front door, pushing a shelf in front of it with Silver’s help. It wouldn’t stop a group of infected, but it might stop one or two. Maybe. Silver didn’t make it seem like a silly idea, so you found comfort in that. 

As the hours grew late, putting a close to your second day since finding Silver, you found yourself practically attached at the hip to Silver, the same going for him. Asking him more questions about himself and his life, you were enthralled by him. It had been many years since you got to bond with anyone, it felt like you couldn’t detach yourself from him if you tried. 

Letting out a yawn, you leaned back onto the sofa, having run out of ideas to ask him. Communicating with someone via yes or no questions could only get you so far, and you felt like you had hit that limit. There wasn’t much left to ask him, now the information you sought could only be given by him, and that obviously wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it, Silver still lacked the ability to actually speak, and likely would forever. 

“I guess that’s it for today. It’s too bad we couldn’t find anything, I’m starving,” You mumbled, your stomach growling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone a day without food before, but it was still slightly painful. You sighed, standing up as you smiled at Silver. “I guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have cleared out by then.” 

As you turned away, going to prepare for bed, you failed to notice the look of disapproval on Silver’s face. He watched you walk away, a slight scowl on his face. 

Walking into your bedroom, you stretched out your arm, though came to a screeching halt as an intensely sharp pain stabbed through your shoulder, nearly drawing a cry of pain out of you. You hissed, letting your arm go slack as you rushed into your bathroom. The dim moonlight bathed the room in an almost blueish light, highlighting the red gash that had been scratched across your neck and shoulder. You could only stare with wide eyes, your mind unable to process the sight before you, breath caught in your throat. How had you failed to notice that? When did it happen? 

As the memory of the infected that had snuck up on you passed through your mind, you faintly recalled feeling an uncomfortable scratch across your collarbone that you hadn’t given much thought to at the time. Your life was in danger, you were focused entirely on escaping the situation. But now that you were home, and hours had gone by, the blood had dried, and the wound had begun to heal. It wasn’t a deep scratch. Just enough to break the skin. But was that all it took to turn? To become infected? 

It had been hours, you reminded yourself. Turning was usually immediately. But you also knew there were rare cases where it could happen over a course of time, slowly killing the host. You had been infected. There was no doubt about it. 

Stumbling back into your bedroom, you collapsed against the old, beaten mattress. There was nothing you could do except hope that you woke up tomorrow morning. You couldn’t tell Silver. He had finally found someone he could talk to. Someone he could bond with. You didn’t want to crush that so soon. 

Closing your eyes, you ignored the pain in your shoulder, letting slumber take you. You had been fully prepared to just never wake up again, at least not fully. But much to your surprise, you woke up the next day, sunshine pouring into your room through an unboarded window. You blinked away your sleepiness, slightly confused as to why you were still you, before jumping out of bed. 

Rushing to your bathroom, you checked your collarbone once again. The scratch remained, still healing. You had honestly thought it to be a dream when you woke up, but seeing it there, feeling the remaining pain as you moved your shoulder, you knew it was real. 

You didn’t know what to do. Your mind was rushing for a solution, or at least a way to keep this from Silver. You didn’t want him to see you change. You had to come up with some sort of plan to get away from him before changing, and today was the perfect opportunity. 

That was what you had thought, until Silver had decided not to let you out at all today. Just like yesterday, he held you by your wrist tightly, refusing to let you walk through your door. You had even tried the same reasoning as yesterday, saying that he could come with, but he still wouldn’t let you go. You had thought it was because he hadn’t been there to keep you safe from being grabbed, but you were fine as far as he was aware. There was no reason for him to feel bad. 

“I have to go out, I need food, I’m hungry! Just let me go!” You huffed in frustration, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you tried to tug your arm free. Silver simply glared up at you, visibly growing more frustrated the longer you fought him. He didn’t understand why you thought it was okay to go out again, not after yesterday. Not after he nearly lost you. 

“Let me go!” You raised your voice, trying to urge him to free you. It seemed your tone only made him mad, as he roughly yanked your arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder. You cried out in alarm, holding your shoulder as you hissed. “You’re hurting me, Silver!” 

Your cries of pain seemed to startle him as his grip loosened significantly, almost enough for you to pull your arm free, but his grip returned just as you tried to pull. As your eyes met his, you could see a look of not just frustration in his eyes, but confusion. Guilt suddenly squeezed at your heart, making you sigh as your shoulders fell. 

“Okay, if you don’t want me to go, then why don’t you? You’re one of them after all,” You said, giving him a small, comforting smile. “That way, I can stay safe at home, and you can bring me food.” 

Silver let you go at that, agreeing immediately. He walked past you, shoving the shelf blocking the door aside with ease. As he looked back, your eyes widened as he gave you the tiniest of smiles. The sight made your heart flutter, but at the same time sink, knowing it would be your last time getting to see such a smile. The smile of someone with perseverance great enough to live beyond death. 

You gave Silver a bright grin in return, your smile remaining until the door had closed behind him, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was just like before now, when you were all alone. Silver was gone. And it had left a bigger hole in your heart than you thought it would. 

But you had no time to waste. You didn’t know when it would happen. You had to disappear before Silver could return, without being noticed. You waited until you were certain Silver was gone before preparing. 

The table was covered in Silver’s scribbles now, with little room left. Taking a marker, you wrote over Silver’s handwriting, writing a small apology, that you didn’t want him to see you turn. With your final words written, you took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your old apartment one last time. Since showing up, Silver had left that sickeningly sweet smell everywhere he went. A smell that once made you sick and terrified, you found some sense of comfort in, knowing it was from him. 

You wished you could’ve had more time with him. You wished you could’ve met Silver before everything, before he and everyone around him died. You imagined you would’ve been great friends. But you couldn’t linger on that, not anymore. 

Slipping out of your apartment, you made certain that you were completely alone before exiting the building. The streets were silent once again, but this time, you knew nothing was around. Not even Silver. You were alone. 

Making your way into the woods that had begun to creep up on the old city, you were surrounded by the darkness the trees provided, hiding you from the light. Even in the woods, it was dead silent aside from the wind rustling the leaves and branches. It was a lonely final resting place, but you preferred that over putting Silver in even more pain. 

With one final glance back, you could see your memories flashing through your eyes just like before, but at a slower pace now, reminding you of everything you’d lost, and the friend you were going to lose now. You were simply thankful you got the chance to meet Silver. For a mere second, you thought it might’ve been possible he himself was the cure he had been searching so long for. After all, he was still alive, even though his body technically wasn’t. The thought made you smile, comforting you as you disappeared into the darkness. 

The sun had begun to drift lower and lower into the sky. Silver stared up at the sky as it turned from a bright blue into a brilliant orange. Despite the beautiful view, Silver only wished you could’ve been with him to witness it. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving you home, especially since he had seen a few infected during his search. But he still couldn’t help but miss you, wanting to be always at your side. 

Making his way back home, Silver pushed the door open, mustering up his best smile as he held his arms out, showing off the food he had found in his search. But upon seeing the empty room, Silver dropped the food without a thought as he looked around. Where were you? Why were you not here waiting for him? 

Red ink scrawled across the table caught his attention, golden eyes landing on the message. Taking in its words, Silver didn’t even think it possible to feel his blood pressure skyrocket, and yet the feeling that overcame him in those two seconds rivaled the feeling. 

Silver didn’t think he’d ran that fast since he was alive. He didn’t even know he could run as fast as he was, nor did he think he had the same heightened sense of smell as the other infected until he was completely zeroed in on your scent, on the blood in your scent. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not after he’d finally found someone to be with. Someone who was alive and made him feel alive. He had to have you, no matter what. Even if you were infected, he’d find a way to help you. You could be just like him; he would make you be just like him. Even if he had to infect you himself. 

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the woods grew darker with each second. You shivered as the wind blew a chill down your spine, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Despite the pain in your shoulder, you couldn’t feel any effects of the virus. Perhaps you were one of the rare cases that had to suffer longer? It certainly lined up with the luck you had. 

The leaves crunched softly underneath your boots as you walked, your mind drifting as time slowed to a crawl. You were just ready for it to be over. Silver was probably already home, though you couldn’t even begin to guess what his reaction would be. You guessed he might try to look for you, but you’d already be turned and long gone before he could find you. You felt guilty, but it wasn’t like letting Silver watch you turn was any better. 

Your mind was brought back to reality as you heard a particularly loud gust of wind. Looking around, you felt your fear begin to crawl from the pits of your stomach, and up your spine. Squeezing yourself tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, before continuing on. 

Before you could take even a single step forward though, you were suddenly and violently tackled to the ground. You let out a startled cry, your shoulder slamming against the ground, forcing a scream from your lungs. You felt a hand grab your injured shoulder, flipping you over with great force, nearly knocking the wind out of you. 

Your eyes met a pair of wildly glowing golden eyes, a sneer pulling at his lips, revealing his canines. You cried out in alarm, trying to crawl away, Silver’s tight grip holding you in place underneath him. You had no time to react, no time to stop him as he bent down, immediately sinking his teeth into your collarbone. You let out a shrill scream, feeling your own blood soak your clothes and skin, staining Silver’s muzzle. You fought and shoved against him, feeling the cool air hit your skin as he pulled away, revealing his dripping maw, blood trickling down his canines. 

“Mine,” A strained, raspy voice spoke, startling you. He repeated the word over and over, rubbing his nose against your neck. He switched to the other side, making you panic as you felt his sharp teeth brush over your skin. He sunk his teeth into your flesh, taking in your scent, practically burning it into his brain. He was never letting you out of his sight again. You were his, he needed you, you were all he had left in this world. 

Pulling away, Silver stared at the sight of you below him. Your neck was littered with bites, and after the third bite, you had lost the strength to fight him, just waiting to succumb to your death. Your eyes drooped, a sleepiness unlike anything you’d ever felt washing over you, granting you relief. 

As your eyes fell shut, you could feel Silver lift you, holding you against his fluffy chest. You leaned into his surprisingly warm hold, deciding to just go with it. You were dead anyway, so you might as well soak it in. Despite everything, you were still glad to have met Silver. 

It felt like time had slowed to a near stop, and you couldn’t differentiate minutes between hours, and days between years. It felt like you had been forced to wake though after a long time, sunlight pouring over you, bathing you in its warmth. It was strangely warm. You had expected everything to be cold, dead. 

Eyes slowly peeking open, they blurred in the light, making you groan. Just as you began to stir, you heard a gasp, startling you fully awake, eyes clearing up immediately as you sat up. Just before you stood Silver, or what you had assumed was Silver. He was strangely... lively. Almost like he was alive. 

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, his crystal-clear voice startling you to your core. It wasn’t like he was almost alive; he was alive. His golden eyes held that flicker of life that was once missing, his lips curled into the biggest smile you had ever seen. 

As if able to tell you were both shocked and confused, Silver chuckled, sitting down next to you on the bed. “A little while after I bit you, I got better. It surprised me too, believe me. I guess it turns out you were the immune person I’ve been looking for all this time!” 

Your brain didn’t process a single word he said. You were shocked you were even still alive, especially after how Silver had bitten you, and many times at that. The memory of Silver biting you over and over suddenly filled your head, the pain still ever present in your neck. You ran your hand over your neck, feeling the deep teeth marks scattered across your skin. Silver’s eyes fell to your hand, his smile remaining, but the glimmer of innocent cheerfulness fading from his eyes. 

“I wanted to be the one to turn you,” Silver said, his voice forcing your attention back on him, looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled at you, the corners of his lips reaching his eyes and forcing them to crinkle. “I was going to make you like me. But this is better! This means that you can’t turn, and even if I do, I can just bite you and cure myself!” 

Something about Silver’s words, or the way he smiled, put an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Something about this didn’t sit right with you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it kind that he wanted to turn you himself? You couldn’t tell. 

“What does this mean? A-Am I going to have to cure everyone else?” You asked, confused. You didn’t think you could handle getting bitten that much. You didn’t even have enough blood to spare a few hundred people. And wouldn’t that, you know, kill you? 

“Oh, no!” Silver chuckled, shaking his head. He took your hand into his own, squeezing it much more gently than he had when he was infected. “I can’t let you be getting hurt. It’s just you and me against the world.” 

Silver gave you a big smile, his eyes filled with love, and yet, you knew, there was no real love to be found. His love had died with him when he died so long ago. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[theonottsbxtch]

NO TIME TO DIE PT.3 | OP81

an: lando my sweetboy, what can i say

summary: a continuation of the skyfall series, following a peaceful few months away from the world they were so used to, they were found again. this time neither of them knew what could happen.

wc: 10k

warnings: mentions of death, comas

part one | part two |

The dim light of the safe house barely penetrated the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room. She sat at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee, the bitter taste grounding her as her thoughts swirled in chaos. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo the weight of the past week—the long, agonising days spent waiting, hoping, and working tirelessly to bring Oscar back.

After the incident in the medical room, the team had kept Oscar under close observation, sedating him whenever necessary, but he was still trapped within the confines of his mind, the programming deeply embedded. Every time she thought of him, her heart would clench with pain; she could still see the look in his eyes when he had attacked her, the absence of recognition, the fear that he might never return to her.

The door swung open, and Lewis entered, looking worn but determined. He had been working with George and Toto, analysing everything they could about Oscar’s condition, desperate to find a way to reverse the effects of the conditioning.

“Hey,” he said softly, taking a seat across from her. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. The truth was, she was hanging by a thread. Each day felt like a battle against despair, but she refused to give in. Not now, not when Oscar needed her the most.

“We’re making progress,” Lewis continued, his voice steady. “Toto and George are looking into a more effective way to reverse the programming. But it’ll take time. We can’t rush this.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. I just… I want him back. I hate seeing him like this.”

Lewis leaned forward, concern etched across his features. “We all do. But pushing too hard could do more harm than good. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I can’t think about myself right now,” she replied, her voice stronger than she felt. “Not while he’s… stuck.”

Lewis sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. But we can’t afford to lose you, either. You’re going to need your strength for whatever comes next.”

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the table. “Next? What’s next? More waiting? More hoping? What if he never comes back to us?”

“Don’t think like that,” Lewis urged, his voice firm. “We’re working on a plan, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. Just hold on to that hope a little longer.”

Before she could respond, George entered the room, his expression serious. “We need to talk. Toto has some new intel about Zak’s operations. It might give us an advantage.”

She straightened, her heart racing at the mention of Zak. “What is it?”

“He’s planning a shipment of high-tech weapons,” George explained, his eyes scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “We think it’s happening soon, and it might be our best opportunity to gather intel. But we’ll have to split up. It’s dangerous.”

Her heart sank at the thought of more danger, but she also felt a surge of adrenaline. “We can’t let Zak continue this. We need to take him down.”

“Exactly,” Lewis chimed in. “But we need to approach this carefully. The last thing we want is to put ourselves at risk—especially with Oscar still recovering.”

As they discussed their strategy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if they could dismantle Zak’s operation, it might create a distraction that would give her the chance to work on Oscar’s recovery in the chaos.

“Can we use the mission as a diversion?” she suggested, her voice rising with excitement. “If we can draw attention away from him, maybe I can slip in and try to get to him while everyone’s busy.”

Lewis and George exchanged uncertain looks. “It’s risky,” George warned. “What Zak kills you on sight?”

“I have to try,” she insisted, her heart racing with determination. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.”

“Okay, but we’ll need a solid plan,” Lewis replied, placing a hand on hers. “We’ll help you, but promise us you’ll be careful.”

She nodded, a newfound resolve swelling within her. “I promise.”

As night fell, they gathered to finalise their plans in the safe house’s dimly lit living room. Maps and blueprints were spread out on the table, the atmosphere charged with urgency.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Toto said, his voice commanding. “We’ll split into two teams. One will create a distraction near Zak’s main facility while the other infiltrates to gather intel. If things go south, we need to be able to regroup quickly.”

She listened intently, her mind racing with the possibilities. But the thought of Oscar still weighed heavily on her.

“Where will Oscar be during this?” she finally asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at her.

Toto glanced at her, his expression conflicted. “We’ll keep him under guard in the safe house. It’s the safest place for him right now.”

“Safe?” she echoed incredulously. “You’re planning to put him in a place where he can wake up and not know what’s happening? I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk him being left alone with guards who don’t understand his situation.”

“We need to prioritise the mission,” Toto countered, his voice firm. “If we’re successful, we can deal with Oscar afterward.”

“Afterward?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “No, I won’t let you do that. I won’t leave him behind.”

Toto sighed, rubbing his temples as if fighting a headache. “You’re being irrational. This is about strategy, not emotions. We need to be practical.”

“I’m being practical! If I’m there when he wakes up, he’ll have a better chance of recognising me. I can help him. I can talk him through this.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Lewis stepped in, holding up a hand. “Toto, what if you stay? He knows you and we’re more than capable of holding our own.”

Toto looked at the three of them and settled his gaze on her knowing her mind wouldn’t change. Looking down at the map one more time, he took a deep breath. “Fine.”

That night, as the team prepped for their roles, she felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Lewis and George would be part of the distraction team, while she would go in and deal with Zak herself

The boat rocked gently on the dark water, the soft lapping of the waves a deceptive contrast to the electric tension in the air. She stood at the helm, the moon casting silver reflections across the surface, illuminating the night just enough to see her own breath. This was no ordinary mission; this was a high-stakes operation that could bring down one of the most dangerous figures in their world—Zak.

As she crept through the dimly lit cabin, her senses were heightened, attuned to every sound—the hum of machinery, the distant chatter of crew members, the echo of her own heartbeat. She felt the weight of her team’s hopes resting on her shoulders. After everything they had been through, she was determined to see this through.

Turning a corner, she was startled to find Lando standing there, leaning casually against the wall, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He raised a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, an unexpected and unsettling calm radiating from him.

“Lando,” she whispered, confusion washing over her. “What are you doing here?”

He merely smirked, his expression enigmatic. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She hesitated, caught between instinct and curiosity. She had no idea why he let her pass so simply. But time was short, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on the oddity of his actions.

Pushing the encounter from her mind, she focused on the task ahead. The path narrowed as she moved deeper into the boat, dim lights flickering overhead. The air felt charged with anticipation, her pulse quickening with each step she took.

Finally, she found the room she had been searching for—a cramped space at the rear of the vessel, where Zak was likely plotting his next move. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before pushing the door open.

The sight that met her eyes sent a chill down her spine. Zak stood at a table littered with blueprints, maps, and weapon schematics. His back was turned, but she could sense his self-satisfied energy, as if he knew he was always a step ahead.

“Zak,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls, strong yet laced with anger.

He turned slowly, a calculating smile creeping across his face. “Ah, the brave little spy has come to face me. I was wondering when you’d find your way here.”

“What have you done?” she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. “Your operation is over. I’m not letting you escape this time.”

“Escape?” He chuckled softly, a sound that grated on her nerves. “You don’t understand, do you? This is just the beginning. I’ve built something bigger than you can imagine. You’re just a pawn in a game far beyond your comprehension.”

“You’re delusional,” she spat back, fists clenched at her sides. “You’re hurting people. This needs to end.”

Zak stepped closer, his expression shifting from amusement to a cold menace. “And what makes you think you have the power to stop me? I control everything now.”

She held her ground, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I’m not afraid of you, Zak. I came here to finish this.”

Suddenly, there was a deafening bang that shattered the tension in the room, shattering the glass. Zak staggered back, eyes wide with shock, his hands instinctively reaching for his chest.

“Wha—” he gasped, confusion etched on his face. Then he crumpled forward, crashing onto the table, knocking over the maps that had guided him for so long.

“What the hell?” she breathed, her heart racing as disbelief washed over her.

But before she could react, she glanced out the now shattered window and felt her stomach drop. There, standing in the shadows, was Lando—his rifle aimed precisely at Zak’s fallen form. The realisation hit her like a punch to the gut.

“Lando!” she shouted.

He straightened from his position, rifle still smoking. With an almost theatrical flair, he saluted her, a grin spreading across his face. The light flickered, casting eerie shadows on his features. Then, without warning, he toppled backward off the edge of the boat, disappearing into the inky black water below.

“No!” she screamed, rushing to the edge, dread pooling in her stomach. The chaotic swirl of emotions made her head spin. “What just happened?”

As her mind struggled to process the events, she looked back at Zak's body, the horror of his lifeless form sinking in. Why had Lando done that? Was this part of some twisted plan?

Her comms crackled to life, Lewis’s urgent voice breaking through her shock. “What’s happening? Report!”

“Lando shot Zak!” she shouted into the device, her voice trembling with disbelief. “He’s dead! But Lando—he’s gone. He just fell into the water.”

“Get out of there! We’re coming to you!” Lewis ordered, urgency evident in his tone.

The room felt like it was closing in on her, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest. She turned her gaze back to the water, her heart racing. Was Lando really gone? What was happening? The implications of Zak’s death and Lando’s actions churned in her mind, a whirlwind of confusion and dread.

“Copy that,” she said, trying to sound steady. “I’m moving out.”

As she retreated from the room, adrenaline surged through her veins. She had to escape, to regroup with her team, and to figure out what had just transpired. She dashed down the narrow corridor, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Panic surged as she made her way toward the exit, the weight of what had just occurred pushing down on her. She had lost Zak, but what had Lando’s actions meant for her?

Just as she reached the exit, an alarm blared through the boat, red lights flashing ominously. Her heart raced. They knew she was there. The mission had been compromised.

Rushing onto the deck, she scanned the horizon, looking for her team. In the distance, she could see the faint outlines of their boat approaching, but she needed to buy herself time.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from behind her, bullets whizzing past as she ducked for cover. Her instincts kicked in, and she moved swiftly along the edge of the boat, using the crates as shields. The chaos surrounding her felt surreal, the adrenaline surging with each heartbeat.

“Stay low!” she shouted into her comms as she crouched behind a crate. “I’m pinned down!”

“On our way!” Lewis replied, his voice steady despite the situation.

She could see shadows moving on the deck, agents sent to intercept her. They were closing in fast, and she knew she had to make a choice.

Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself and sprinted toward the railing. With a leap, she dove into the water, plunging beneath the surface, hoping to evade her pursuers. The cold enveloped her, and she kicked hard, propelling herself away from the boat, desperate to reach the safety of her team.

Surfacing, she gasped for air, her heart pounding. The distant lights of their boat flickered like stars in the darkness, a beacon of hope. As she swam toward it, her mind raced with questions.

What had Lando’s actions meant? Why had he let her go? Was he playing a double game, or was there something more complex at work?

When she finally reached the side of the boat, hands gripping the edge, she hoisted herself up, gasping for breath as she clambered aboard. Lewis and George were waiting for her, concern etched on their faces.

“What happened?” Lewis demanded, urgency in his tone.

“Zak’s dead. Lando shot him,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “But I don’t know why he did it. He just… vanished into the water.”

George exchanged a glance with Lewis, confusion evident. “And you’re sure he’s gone?”

“I saw him fall,” she insisted, a knot tightening in her stomach. “But why? What was his plan?”

“First things first, we need to regroup,” Lewis said, glancing back toward the now-quiet boat. “We need to figure out what just happened and how we’re going to deal with the fallout.”

“What if he’s not dead?” she muttered, her mind racing with possibilities. “What if this was all part of his game?”

Lewis shook his head. “We can’t think like that. We need to focus on what we do know: Zak is out of the picture, and that’s one less threat we have to worry about.”

“Let’s get back to the safe house,” she said, determination settling in her chest. “We need to figure out our next move.”

As the boat sped away from the scene of chaos, its engine roared as they made their way back to the safe house. The atmosphere was tense, filled with the unspoken questions swirling among the team. She leaned against the side of the boat, heart still racing as she tried to piece together the fragments of what had just happened. One thing was sure.

Shit just got complicated.

“Do you think Lando was playing us?” George asked, his brow furrowed. “Or was this all a setup?”

Lewis shook his head, clearly frustrated. “We need to focus on Zak’s death for now. If Lando shot him, it changes everything. We need to report to Toto. He’ll know how to handle this.”

As they arrived at the safe house, a modest cabin tucked away in the woods, the familiar scent of pine mingled with the anxiety that hung thick in the air. She stepped inside, scanning the room, her heart still heavy with uncertainty.

Toto was already there, pacing back and forth, the shadows dancing across his worried face. “What the hell happened out there?” he demanded as soon as they entered, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Zak is dead,” she said, voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But Lando—he shot him and then just… disappeared. I have no idea why he let me go.”

“Disappeared?” Toto echoed, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Lando is a loose cannon. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place! He’s always been unpredictable, but now this?”

Lewis stepped forward, urgency evident in his tone. “He shot Zak, but we have no idea where he is or what he’s planning. We need to find him before he decides to make another move.”

“Lando has always seemed to have his own agenda,” Toto said, running a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “I’ll contact our sources. We need to know if he’s gone rogue or if he’s working with us.”

She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. What if Lando was working with them? What if he had a plan of his own?

Before anyone could respond, Lewis opened the door to the kitchen, all heads turned to the sound they heard, guns instinctively drawn.

But what they saw stopped them cold.

Lando sat casually at the table in his tactical gear, hair wet, legs swinging like a child’s, a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. He looked utterly relaxed, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few hours.

“I really thought you were better at this,” he said with a playful smirk, taking another bite of his biscuit.

“Lando!” she exclaimed, shock mixing with anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

In an instant, all of them had their weapons trained on him, fingers hovering over triggers. Toto’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You shouldn’t be here. We thought you were—”

“Dead?” Lando interjected, chuckling softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need for any of that.” He leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I come with the antidote.”

“Antidote?” Lewis echoed, still aiming his gun at Lando. “What are you talking about?”

“For Zak’s plan,” Lando replied, the lightheartedness fading from his voice. “I knew he had something cooking up—something dangerous that would have put all of you at risk if you hadn’t stopped him. I just didn’t think you’d be this reckless in the process.”

“Reckless?” she snapped, frustration boiling over. “You shot him! What’s your angle?”

Lando shrugged, still relaxed. “I didn’t want him to have the chance to activate whatever he had in place. That’s where the antidote comes in. I’ve got the means to reverse his effects—he had plans for you, you know. Something that could’ve turned you into a puppet for him.”

The room fell silent, confusion mingling with curiosity. She could see doubt flickering in Toto’s eyes, and it was clear that Lando’s presence had thrown them all off balance.

“What do you mean?” Toto finally asked, lowering his gun slightly, though still on guard.

“Zak had an entire operation designed to brainwash agents,” Lando explained, his tone now grave. “You wouldn’t have even known you were under his control. I had to take him out before he could flip the switch.”

“Why should we trust you?” she challenged, her heart racing. “You’ve been a wildcard this entire time.”

Lando sighed, clearly exasperated. “Because I’ve saved your asses. Zak was a threat, but he wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t let you fall into his trap. If you think I’m playing both sides, then fine. But I’m here to help, whether you believe it or not.”

“What’s the antidote?” Lewis asked, scepticism still evident in his voice but curiosity piqued.

Lando leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ve got the formula, and I need your help to distribute it to the right people. We need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more dangerous this gets.”

She exchanged glances with her teammates, weighing their options. Could they trust him?

Finally, Toto nodded, his decision made. “Alright, let’s hear what you have to say. But know this, Lando: one wrong move, and we won’t hesitate to take you down.”

With that, Lando leaned back, a hint of a grin returning to his face. “Now that’s more like it. Let’s get to work.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, she felt a flicker of hope. They might have lost Zak, but if Lando was telling the truth, they had a chance to stop whatever he had planned next. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking.

“Let’s get the details sorted,” she said, determination flooding her voice. “We need to be ready for anything.”

As they gathered around the table, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much larger game—a game that would test their loyalties and strength in ways they had never imagined.

The antidote was handed off to the medics without hesitation, each of them glancing nervously at Toto before they hurried to Oscar’s room. The atmosphere was taut as a wire as the team waited, tension thick in the air. She stood by the door, her eyes following the medics as they prepared the injection.

“You have 100% faith this will work?” she asked Lando, voice low but seething with barely contained anger.

Lando looked back at her, his face unusually serious. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It will help him. I’ve seen it work before. Everyone has their own reaction, but it works.”

Before she could respond, one of the medics announced, “Administering the antidote.” They pressed the syringe into Oscar’s arm, and the room fell into a charged silence. Every eye was on him, watching for any sign of change. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, in an instant, Oscar convulsed, his body seizing with such violence it took two of the medics to hold him down. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in pain as they tried to steady him. She felt her heart drop, terror racing through her as he gasped, choking on his own breath.

“What’s happening?” she demanded, her voice rising in panic. “Is this supposed to happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” one of the medics muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he worked. But before anyone could say more, Oscar’s body stilled, and he sank back against the bed, his chest barely moving. The heart monitor next to him let out a slow, irregular beep.

One of the medics shook his head, looking at her with pity. “He’s slipped into a coma.”

The words were a punch to the gut. She turned to Lando, fury blazing in her eyes. “A coma?” she spat, stepping forward, fists clenched. “This was your cure? This was your help?”

Lando started to speak, but she didn’t let him finish. Rage overtaking her, she swung her fist at him, landing a blow against his jaw. He stumbled back, and she followed, pushing him against the wall as she fought the urge to keep swinging.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she shouted, voice cracking as her hand trembled. “You said you had the answer. You swore this was the cure!”

Lando looked up at her, hand to his bruised jaw, eyes narrowed with frustration. “It is the antidote! I’m sure of it. He’s not in danger; his body just needs time to adjust—”

“Time to adjust?” she cut in, practically trembling with fury. “You said it would help him, and now he’s comatose!”

Lando’s jaw tightened as he straightened up, his expression a mix of frustration and desperation. “I didn’t want this any more than you did!” he snapped, his voice rising to match hers. “Do you think I’d go through all this just to hurt him? You’re not the only one who cares about him, you know. He’s my friend too! I’ve sabotaged my entire career, my life, over him too.”

She felt her anger falter, replaced by a raw, painful mix of confusion and disbelief. “You… what?”

Lando looked away, exhaling harshly as he struggled to control his emotions. “I did this because he matters to me,” he said, voice thick with a sincerity she hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve been one step ahead of Zak because I knew the only way to keep him safe was to take control. I wouldn’t risk him for anything.”

She searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but all she saw was a bitter sort of pain. Her anger cooled slightly, replaced by a tense, uneasy silence.

“Then prove it,” she finally said, voice low. “If you really care, you’ll stay by his side until he wakes up, and you’ll take responsibility for what happens if he doesn’t.”

Lando nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll stay. And he will wake up. I promise you that.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned away, feeling her pulse gradually steady as the anger drained from her. Whether or not she believed him, there was nothing she could do now except wait—and hope that Lando’s gamble was worth the risk.

The room fell silent as the medics continued their work, each of them carefully monitoring Oscar’s every breath.

She left the medical room, her body feeling heavy and her mind whirling from the past hour. Pausing just outside, she glanced back through the small window in the door. Lando had positioned himself on the floor beside Oscar’s bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled up, and his face buried in his hands. The cocky edge he usually carried was gone, replaced by something sombre and unguarded.

With a heavy sigh, she continued down the hall to the main briefing room, where Toto, George, and Lewis were waiting, eyes filled with concern. She took a moment to steady herself before joining them.

Toto was the first to speak. “How’s Oscar?”

“In a coma,” she said, feeling the weight of each word. “The medics are watching him, but… we don’t know when he’ll wake up. Or even if he’ll fully come back.”

Toto’s jaw tightened as he took in the news. “And Lando? You still trust his story?”

She folded her arms, unsure of her own answer. “He’s… by Oscar’s side. Says he cares about him, and that everything he did was to protect him. I don’t know if I believe him, but…” Her voice faltered. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Lewis scratched his chin, considering this. “Well, we’ve seen Lando’s loyalty to Oscar firsthand. He’s one hell of a sniper and kept Zak off our backs tonight.”

She shot him a look, her expression incredulous. “You’re not saying he should become one of us, are you?”

Lewis shrugged. “He’s burned all his other bridges. And he’s already risked his own career to keep Oscar alive. The question is whether we can use his skills and if he’d even be willing.”

George nodded, though he seemed more hesitant. “He’s ruined all his other chances trying to save Oscar. We don’t have many people with that kind of dedication. He might be reckless, but he’s got guts.”

Toto looked thoughtful, weighing their arguments. His gaze lingered on her, as though searching her face for a decision she hadn’t yet made. “If we bring him in, we’d be responsible for him,” he said finally. “You’ve seen more of him than the rest of us. What’s your call?”

She hesitated, the weight of the choice settling over her. Lando’s decision to shoot Zak had saved their lives tonight. He’d turned his back on everything for Oscar’s sake, yet the damage he’d caused left her conflicted.

“We don’t know what he’s planning,” she said carefully. “If he’s willing to share what he knows, and if he proves he’s in this for the right reasons…” She trailed off, glancing back in the direction of Oscar’s room. “Maybe we give him a shot. But only if he earns it.”

Toto nodded, folding his hands as if he’d expected her answer. “Then we’ll keep him close for now. If he wants to help, he’ll follow our rules and go through our training. But the minute he shows any hint of crossing us…”

“We take him out,” George finished with a grim nod.

She glanced one last time toward the hallway, an odd sense of foreboding mixed with the lingering weight of relief. Lando had put them all at risk, but if he truly wanted redemption—and if he could deliver on his promise to save Oscar—maybe they could turn his loyalty to their side.

Lewis’ voice broke her train of thought. “So, what’s next, then? We wait on Oscar’s recovery, and keep an eye on our new ‘ally’?”

“Keep him close,” Toto agreed. “Get him familiar with the team’s layout, but don’t let him see the real intel until we’re sure. And if he even thinks about double-crossing us, we don’t hesitate.”

As they spoke, she caught George’s eye. He gave a slight nod, something between caution and reassurance, and she realised the others had reached the same uneasy compromise she had.

Just then, a door down the hall creaked open. Lando emerged, looking worn and strangely vulnerable, as if he had left a part of his hardened exterior back in the room with Oscar. He glanced around and spotted them in the briefing room, his expression unreadable. For a moment, they all stood in silence, tension thickening the air once again.

She stepped forward, arms crossed, and met his gaze. “Lando. Toto has decided to give you a chance. But let me be clear: this is a test. You’re only here because you saved our lives tonight. But if you put us in jeopardy again, you won’t get another chance.”

Lando nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering with relief. “I understand,” he said simply, hands at his sides, an unusual openness in his demeanour.

Toto gestured toward a chair by the door, his voice sharp. “Sit down, Lando. I want to hear exactly what you know—no edits, no omissions. Start with Zak’s plans, and leave nothing out.”

Lando took the chair, leaned forward, and clasped his hands together, his gaze unwavering. “With Zak gone, a scramble will start. His lieutenants are already positioning themselves to take over. There’s a handful who have been waiting for an opportunity like this. If they consolidate control, they could be more dangerous than Zak ever was.”

Her interest piqued as she listened, nodding to herself as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “So we cut them off before they can regroup?”

“Exactly,” Lando replied, meeting her gaze. “One of his top lieutenants is already planning to take over. A man named Andrea Stella—he’s ruthless and has been at Zak’s side for years. If he consolidates Zak’s power base, we’ll be dealing with a much bigger threat.”

Toto considered this, a gleam of determination in his eye. “Then Andrea is our target. We dismantle what’s left of Zak’s network from the inside, starting with the lieutenants.”

Lewis cracked his knuckles, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes. “Finally, something straightforward. Cut off the heads, and the body will fall.”

George chimed in, more cautious. “But Andrea will have protection, likely Zak’s best operatives. We need a plan that uses every bit of Lando’s intel.”

Toto nodded in agreement, looking at Lando with an expectant gaze. “This is your chance to prove yourself, Lando. You know Zak’s people better than any of us. Map out Andrea’s assets, his known allies, and his weaknesses.”

Lando nodded, already reaching for a piece of paper. “Andrea has two primary safehouses, one in Berlin and one in Prague. The Berlin safehouse is easier to access—it’s where he keeps his logistics team. The one in Prague… that’s where he’ll go if he’s expecting trouble. It’s more fortified.”

Toto looked back to the team, his expression resolute. “You have your targets. We’ll split into two groups—one to hit Berlin and disrupt Andrea’s logistics, the other to prepare for Prague in case he tries to make a run for it.”

She nodded, adrenaline beginning to stir. The mission had just taken on a new level of intensity, with Zak’s death opening up opportunities for both freedom and danger. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar’s room, where he lay unmoving.

But if they dismantled Andrea’s power structure, Oscar’s chances of waking up to a world without Zak’s shadow grew that much stronger.

“Alright,” she said, sharing a determined glance with her teammates. “We’re doing this. Let’s finish what Zak started and make sure no one takes his place.”

PRAGUE - TWO NIGHTS LATER 

The night air was sharp on the rooftop in Prague, the glow of city lights casting a soft haze over the streets below. She sat next to Lando, both watching the entrance of Andrea’s safehouse across the way. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of traffic and a lone dog barking. They’d been up here for hours, waiting for signs of movement, waiting for Andrea to show.

As the minutes dragged on, she glanced over at Lando. His face was unusually still, a hardness settled in his eyes that seemed more complex than the usual determination of a mission. She thought back to the last few days, how he’d lingered by Oscar’s side, how he’d gone against everything to bring the antidote, even at the risk of his own life. It gnawed at her, how little she really knew about him, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“Why’d you do it? Betray Zak, go against your own orders…risk everything?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He kept his gaze on the street below, then let out a quiet sigh, as if the question had settled into him, forcing out an old wound he’d long since hidden. Finally, he spoke.

“Oscar and I… we came into this at the same time. We were both eleven when we met Zak. They don’t usually bring kids into this life that young, but we weren’t typical recruits. Came from broken homes, no family, no stability. We were Zak’s new toys. The latest in his collection. We listened, we obeyed…we did it all.”

She felt a pang of something—sympathy, anger, a sense of understanding she hadn’t expected. Zak had taken them so young, so vulnerable, moulding them into tools, spies with no choice but to follow his orders.

Unlike her, she had a choice and she took it at 18.

She wanted to say something but stayed silent, knowing he had more to tell.

“Oscar looked after me,” Lando continued, his voice quieter now. “I was older, but he always… protected me, in a way. On the days I screwed up and wasn’t allowed dinner, he’d sneak half his plate my way. Stubborn kid,” he added with a half-smile. “No matter how much I told him to take care of himself first, he just… wouldn’t. He thought of me as family, and…well, that changed everything.”

She was taken aback, her mind spinning as she pieced together the full weight of what Oscar had meant to Lando. Oscar had never spoken of this side of his past—of how he’d been moulded, of the sacrifices he’d made, even as a child. And here was Lando, older, colder, but quietly haunted by a loyalty that ran so deep it had shaped his entire life.

“What Zak did to us,” Lando continued, his voice rougher now, “I don’t think you can ever walk away from that. Not completely. But Oscar… he still found a way to be good. To care. He wanted a way out for both of us, even before we knew there was one.”

She felt something sharp twist inside her chest. Suddenly, Lando’s actions—the betrayal, the risks he’d taken to bring Oscar back—made sense in a way she couldn’t have imagined. To Lando, saving Oscar was more than just about loyalty; it was about holding onto the one piece of humanity he still had left.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I never realised it meant that much to you.”

Lando shrugged, the hardened expression slipping back into place, but she caught the brief flicker of vulnerability. “Oscar was the only real family I had. He’s the only person I’d risk this much for. And now… with Zak gone, maybe it means he’ll finally get the freedom he’s wanted all his life.”

They fell into silence again, but it was heavier, fuller now. She felt her own loyalty to Oscar deepen, if that were possible, understanding how he’d shaped not only her but also those around him.

Just then, a light flickered across the way, snapping them back to the mission. Andrea was moving through the entrance, surrounded by bodyguards. Their momentary reprieve was over.

Lando straightened, pulling out his weapon, a renewed determination in his eyes. “We’ll do this, and make sure Zak’s legacy dies with Andrea.”

She took a steadying breath, nodding as her focus sharpened. “Alright. We’re doing this.”

She hesitated, looking at Lando, the weight of their conversation pressing against her chest. After a pause, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You deserve to be happy too, you know. After everything Zak put you through… you deserve a chance to live your own life."

Lando gave a small, almost sad smile, the kind that made her heart ache. “I’ll be happy once you and Oscar get your lives back. That’s the least he deserves. I owe him that much… maybe more.”

Before she could respond, a shadow moved near the safehouse door, and they both tensed, their hands instinctively going to their weapons.

“Alright,” he murmured, glancing down through the scope on his rifle. “That’s Andrea’s main man, he’s going in. Andrea is coming around. You go down there, hold his attention. Give me a clear shot, and I’ll handle the rest.”

She nodded, steadying herself, and slipped off the rooftop, making her way down to street level. Every step forward tightened the knot in her stomach, but the memory of Oscar—and now Lando’s story—pushed her forward. Andrea was the last piece of Zak’s empire that could threaten them, and she was ready to end it.

When she stepped into the dimly lit alley beside the safehouse, Andrea was waiting, his face flickering with recognition.

“You,” he sneered, his voice low and threatening. “I should have known they’d send you.”

Feigning a smirk, she held his gaze, keeping her tone casual. “What can I say? Some of us are harder to kill than others.”

Andrea chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized her up. She could almost feel Lando’s crosshairs tracing Andrea’s movements from above. She just had to keep Andrea talking, keep his attention on her.

“I know you’re alone,” he said, voice full of confidence. “You think you’re clever, but you’re just a desperate little soldier without a leader now. And Zak’s network? It’s not going anywhere. There will always be someone else to fill his shoes.”

“Really?” she shot back, a calmness washing over her. “Because from where I stand, the empire you’re trying to build looks a lot like a house of cards. One wrong move, and it’ll come crashing down. Starting with you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but in that instant, she saw his expression change, his eyes widening slightly. She felt the tension in the air, braced herself—and then the shot rang out.

Andrea dropped, a clean, decisive shot to the head. She looked up, catching a brief flash of movement as Lando lowered his rifle, nodding toward her from the rooftop.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke into her earpiece. “Target down. Andrea is gone. Let’s get out of here.”

Lando joined her a few moments later, his face calm but resolute. She caught his eye, a shared look of relief passing between them.

“It’s over,” he said quietly. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of something lighter, something like hope, in his expression.

She let the words sink in, a strange mix of relief and disbelief washing over her. “It really is, isn’t it?” she murmured, more to herself than to Lando. The empire Zak built, the one that had stolen her life, Oscar’s life, even Lando’s—finally, it was over.

They slipped through the shadows of the narrow Prague alleyways, leaving Andrea’s safehouse and the remnants of Zak’s power crumbling behind them before someone saw them. As they neared the extraction point, the silence between them grew heavier with unspoken thoughts, both of them reflecting on what lay ahead.

Once they reached the dimly lit side street where their car waited, Lando slowed his pace, his gaze distant.

“Do you think…” he began, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “Do you think Oscar will be able to let this all go? After everything?”

She took a deep breath, thinking about the man she’d loved and the ways Zak had shaped him, twisting his loyalty and kindness into a weapon. But Lando was right; there was still a part of Oscar that had always hoped, always wanted something more. She smiled faintly.

“If anyone can, it’s him. He’s been through hell and still kept his heart intact.” She looked up at Lando. “But that goes for you, too.”

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head as he opened the car door for her. “I think I lost my heart a long time ago,” he said with a smirk, but she caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a vulnerability that had been stripped bare over years of loyalty and sacrifice.

She turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “Maybe. But you just put yourself on the line to save someone you care about. That’s not something a heartless person does.”

Lando considered her words, giving a small, reluctant nod as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car rumbled to life, and they pulled out onto the narrow, winding roads of Prague, slipping through the quiet city as it slept.

The weight of Andrea’s death, of the mission’s success, lingered in the air between them as they drove, each lost in their own thoughts. She watched the cityscape slip by, mind drifting to the future—one that felt less like a dream and more like something she could almost touch.

Finally, Lando broke the silence, his voice quieter. “You and Oscar gonna leave after this?”

“Yeah,” she replied, feeling a swell of emotion she barely kept in check. “I’ll go back to him. Help him heal, be there while he figures out… what comes next.”

Lando’s gaze softened, a strange sense of peace settling over his features. “Then I guess… I’ll see this through too. I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but I know what I’ve been running from. Time to stop running.”

She reached over, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Then maybe you should come back with us. At least for now.”

Lando looked at her, a flicker of surprise giving way to an almost boyish smile, a glimmer of the young man he’d once been. “Maybe I will.”

They fell into silence once more, but this time it was comfortable, a quiet peace settling between them as they left Prague behind, ready to face whatever came next together.

The drive back was long and filled with an anxious hope as they wound through the countryside toward the safe house. The mission’s success hadn’t erased her worries—Oscar was still fighting for his life, and no amount of victories over their enemies could fix the fragility of his recovery. When they finally arrived, a medic was waiting at the door, his face carefully neutral but carrying the slight, telltale signs of positive news.

“He’s stable,” the medic reported as they stepped inside, “and his vitals are improving. But he’s still unresponsive.” He glanced between her and Lando, understanding their urgency. “You can go in. It might help him to hear familiar voices.”

She nodded, glancing at Lando, who offered a small, encouraging nod in return, as if grounding her. Together, they made their way to the infirmary room where Oscar lay, silent and still, his face more peaceful than it had been in a long time. She took the seat by his bed, pulling it close, her hand instinctively reaching for his. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, quiet and watchful.

The room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors, a rhythmic pulse that was both a comfort and a reminder of the stakes they still faced. She brushed a strand of hair from Oscar’s forehead, her fingers lingering, gentle and protective.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. “We did it, Oscar. Andrea is gone, and Zak’s empire… it’s finished. You’re safe now. We’re safe.”

Beside her, Lando watched, his expression unreadable but softened. After a pause, he moved to take the chair next to hers, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at Oscar, his voice low but steady.

“You always had my back, kid,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. Now I’ve got yours. I’ll be here… just like you always were for me.”

Silence fell over the room, each of them lost in memories, in hope, in unspoken promises. She leaned closer to Oscar, her fingers entwining with his, as if willing him to feel the warmth of her touch, the weight of her presence.

The medic came back in, checking Oscar’s monitors, his expression calm but unhurried, like he’d done this a thousand times. “If he’s hearing anything, it’s the voices of those closest to him that will bring him back,” he offered softly. “If anyone can do that, it’s the two of you.”

She glanced over at Lando, who nodded in agreement, the intensity in his gaze softened with something like gratitude. Together, they sat vigil by Oscar’s side, filling the room with quiet stories and shared memories, fighting their own exhaustion, hoping that somewhere in the dark, he was making his way back to them.

The hours blurred together in the quiet of the room. Shadows stretched along the walls as night settled in, but neither she nor Lando had moved. The medic had come and gone, checking Oscar’s vitals with reassuring nods, but the wait was wearing on them. She squeezed Oscar’s hand, brushing her thumb gently over his knuckles, as if the warmth of her touch alone could pull him back.

As the clock ticked on, she began to speak again, letting her voice fill the stillness.

“Do you remember the cabin on the coast?” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “Those mornings we had, just us… No missions, no agencies breathing down our necks. You’d make that terrible instant coffee, and we’d sit out there like nothing else mattered.”

She smiled, eyes misty as she thought back to the peace they’d found there, however brief. She could feel Lando listening beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance.

“You kept saying you wanted a place like that for real,” she continued, voice breaking slightly. “Somewhere we could disappear to, where no one would ever find us. Well, we made it through, Oscar. You got us there.”

For a moment, silence fell again, and the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitor, each pulse a tether to the man she loved. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, letting the weight of exhaustion press against her but refusing to surrender to it.

Lando, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Oscar.

“Oscar,” he said, his tone low but full of determination. “Look, I know we’ve been through hell together, but I think you’re just showing off now. Making us sit here, wondering if you’re gonna wake up…” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “Come on, mate. Just… open your eyes.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with unsaid things, a lifetime’s worth of loyalty and brotherhood distilled into those few sentences. And just as she was about to give in to the quiet again, something shifted—a faint squeeze, barely there, but unmistakable.

Her heart skipped as she looked down, fingers tightening around his hand. “Oscar?”

The first flicker of life in Oscar’s eyes felt like a miracle. She tightened her grip on his hand as he blinked slowly, his gaze beginning to focus, like he was pulling himself back from somewhere distant and dark. His fingers moved in hers, weak but warm, and her heart leapt.

“Oscar,” she whispered, leaning closer, barely daring to breathe. “It’s me.”

His eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, met hers, and a faint, familiar warmth flickered there. His lips parted, but the words came only as a faint rasp. “You… you’re here.”

At the sound of his voice, she let out a shaky breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. Tears blurred her vision as she nodded, holding his hand to her cheek. “We’re here, Oscar. I’m here.” Her words caught in her throat, a tangled mix of love, relief, and all the things she’d thought she might never have the chance to say again.

Beside her, Lando had been standing at a respectful distance, a quiet, steady presence. But as Oscar’s gaze shifted, recognizing him, a small, amused glint appeared in his tired eyes.

“You’re… both here?” Oscar murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, and she heard the hint of teasing in his voice. “That’s… quite the welcome party.”

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t have missed it, mate.” His tone was light, but his expression was taut, almost uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or slip out and let them have their moment.

Sensing this, Lando began to step back, nodding toward her. “I’ll give you two—”

“No,” she said softly, her gaze turning to him, the conviction in her voice quiet but steady. “Stay.”

Lando stopped, visibly taken aback, his expression betraying the slightest hint of surprise. For a moment, he looked at her as if he hadn’t quite heard right, his usual stoic exterior cracking just a little, his eyes shimmering with something raw and unguarded. He gave her a nod, a subtle motion of understanding, though his voice caught slightly. “Alright,” he murmured, sinking back into his chair beside them.

Oscar’s fingers tightened around hers as he watched the exchange, a tired but knowing look passing over his face. He took a shaky breath, shifting his gaze between them. “Seems like… I owe you both.”

Her grip on his hand tightened as she glanced from him to Lando, the weight of everything they’d endured heavy in the air between them. “Oscar… you don’t owe us anything,” she whispered, the intensity of her own words surprising her. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

Lando nodded, his gaze locked on Oscar. “Yeah, you’ve been doing enough for everyone for too long,” he said, voice soft but steady. “It’s your turn to just… be. Heal.”

Oscar looked at them both, an unspoken gratitude shimmering in his eyes, but there was also something else—a deep trust, a quiet acceptance that the three of them were bound in ways words couldn’t capture.

He exhaled, letting his head rest back against the pillow, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time, a faint, peaceful smile graced his face. And in that moment, with Lando at her side, she felt a quiet reassurance settle in her heart. Together, they would help him heal, each of them carrying a part of the burden, just as they always had.

Oscar looked between them, eyes flickering with a familiar sharpness, though the exhaustion clung to him. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice a little stronger, “so who’s gonna tell me what the hell I missed? Because knowing you two… I’m guessing it’s not nothing.”

She smiled, warmth and relief evident as she exchanged a glance with Lando. “Where do we even start?” she said, squeezing Oscar’s hand gently. “It’s been… eventful.”

Lando let out a quiet laugh, shrugging as he leaned back in his chair. “Eventful is one word for it.”

With a bit more strength, Oscar’s lips quirked into a smirk as he focused on Lando. “So, go on then. Give me the rundown, you muppet. What did you do?”

Lando winced, laughing softly. “I had it under control. Mostly.” He paused, looking slightly sheepish. “I may have… bent a few rules.”

“Bent?” Oscar raised a brow, incredulity softening into amusement. “Mate, you blew the rules to pieces, didn’t you?”

She laughed, nodding. “He’s right, you did. We had Zak’s whole operation on our backs, remember?”

Lando rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of pride there. “Well, it was necessary, wasn’t it? Zak needed taking down, and it was… efficient.”

Oscar shook his head, the faint smile lingering as he squeezed her hand. “Efficient. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

She nodded, filling in the rest. “Efficient and risky. Lando worked out a plan to intercept Zak, took us on an intel dive across three countries, and then pulled off a takedown that… well, let’s just say it wasn’t part of any mission plan.”

“Got Zak out of the picture,” Lando added, shrugging like it was nothing. “And got you the antidote.”

“About that…” Oscar tilted his head, eyeing Lando with a spark of mock accusation. “You just couldn’t resist a grand entrance with that antidote, could you?”

Lando feigned innocence, lifting his hands. “Had to make sure you’d remember it, didn’t I? Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Only because I was unconscious,” Oscar shot back, laughing weakly, though he winced as the laugh brought on a wave of fatigue.

“Alright, you two.” She leaned forward, brushing Oscar’s hair back gently, her eyes filled with a warmth that anchored him. “Lando might be a complete muppet, but he did it for you, Oscar. And we all made it out, somehow.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, moving from her to Lando, his expression one of profound gratitude, quiet but unmistakable. “I can’t… thank you enough. Both of you. For everything.”

“No need for that, mate,” Lando said, his voice unusually gentle, a slight tremor in it. “We don’t leave our own behind.”

SEVEN YEARS LATER

The soft light of the late afternoon settled over their hillside home, casting a warm glow across the kitchen where she stood, gazing out at the endless blue sea. A gentle breeze slipped through the open window, bringing with it the faint scent of wild thyme and olive trees. She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the subtle curve there—a quiet reminder of all that had changed in these last few years.

She smiled to herself, so lost in the peace of the moment that she didn’t hear Oscar approach until his arms circled around her waist, his hand coming to rest over hers. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder, and she felt him smile against her skin.

“Hey, mama,” he murmured, voice soft and full of warmth as his hand gently rubbed over her growing belly. “You two enjoying the view?”

She leaned back into him, feeling a quiet contentment settle over her as she placed her hand over his. “Always. Though, I think I might be enjoying it a little more than this one.” She gave her belly a gentle pat, smiling. “Feels like I’m carrying a future kickboxer in there.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating warmly against her. “Takes after you, then,” he teased, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Strong, resilient… and definitely a little stubborn.”

She turned to face him, her eyes softening as she looked up at him. “And maybe a little of you too, hmm?” She reached up, tracing a hand along his jaw, her gaze reflecting the love and gratitude she felt for the life they’d built here, the peace they’d fought so hard for.

Before he could respond, they heard the front door swing open, followed by a familiar, slightly exasperated voice calling out from the hallway.

“Oi, mate! You wouldn’t believe what happened down at the market,” Lando announced as he walked in, holding up a few bags of fresh produce. He wore an incredulous expression, his eyebrows raised as he looked between them. “I can’t tell if the butcher wanted to sell me fish or… shag me. He followed me halfway up the street. I swear, I need to learn Greek. Or find a disguise,” he added with a grin, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter.

She laughed, shaking her head as she took in his flustered expression. “Maybe he just appreciates your… charm?”

“Or he thought you’d look nice in a seafood display,” Oscar teased, his hand still resting gently on her stomach.

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “You two are impossible. I get followed home, and this is the thanks I get?” But the corners of his mouth tugged upward, and his eyes softened as he took in the peaceful scene before him.

The three of them fell into easy laughter, the warmth of their friendship filling the room as the sun sank lower on the horizon, painting everything in golden hues. This was the life they’d fought for—a quiet peace in a little corner of the world, shared laughter, and the promise of a new future nestled safely between them.

As their laughter faded, Oscar tugged her a little closer, his hand still protectively resting over her stomach. She placed her hand over his, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. He looked at her as if they were still those two undercover agents stealing moments in the shadows, as if this life they'd built still felt too good to be true.

Lando raised an eyebrow at the two of them, smirking. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Oscar replied, turning to give Lando a pointed look. “Wait until you’re on baby duty, Uncle Lando.”

Lando feigned horror, hand over his heart. “Alright, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’ll be no nappies in my future, thank you.”

She laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re going to be brilliant at it. All that practise dodging bullets and undercover work? Changing nappies will be a breeze.”

Lando scoffed but couldn’t hide his grin. “You two are going to turn me into a proper family man, aren’t you?”

“Think it’s a bit late for that, mate,” Oscar teased, squeezing her hand as he glanced over at Lando. “You’re already here, complaining about the market and fighting with the neighbour’s rooster.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable. “Fine. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, each of them taking in the moment. Lando moved to the window, staring out at the golden light on the water, his face softening in a way she hadn’t seen often. She felt a swell of gratitude for him, for the way he’d fought beside them and shared in the dreams they had hardly dared to voice.

“So,” Lando said after a moment, breaking the silence as he turned back to them, his tone light but his expression serious. “What are we having for dinner? Because if I see one more olive, I swear…”

She laughed, feeling that warmth in her heart grow. “Well, since you were so brave at the market, I think it’s only fair you get to cook tonight. Maybe something without olives?”

Oscar chuckled, releasing her hand to ruffle Lando’s hair. “You heard her. Best get to it, chef.”

Lando grumbled but headed toward the kitchen with a grin, opening cupboards and muttering as he began gathering ingredients. “I swear, first I’m babysitting, and now I’m cooking… What did I sign up for with you two?”

They shared another laugh, the kind that felt like home. She leaned against Oscar, contentment filling her as she watched Lando fuss in the kitchen, chopping and stirring, the whole house filled with the scent of fresh herbs and the laughter of family.

It was everything she’d once thought impossible—a simple life, a house full of love, a future unfolding in ways she’d never dared to imagine. And as the evening wore on, with candles flickering and laughter filling the room, she knew that this was the true victory, a happiness that even the most dangerous missions had never prepared her for.

As dinner simmered and the warm evening air drifted in through open windows, they gathered around the small kitchen table. Lando had put together a rustic stew with the market’s freshest ingredients, grumbling the entire time about how he was “wasting his tactical precision on chopping vegetables.”

She sat beside Oscar, resting her hand over his, feeling his steady warmth as she laughed at Lando’s commentary on the local produce.

Lando set the steaming pot on the table and glanced between them with a mock glare. “Alright, feast your eyes on what a former sniper can do with a tomato and some herbs. Just don’t tell me it’s not as good as the local food, or you’ll be getting rations next time.”

Oscar took a dramatic sniff, sighing as he ladled a bowl for her first, then one for himself. “Lando, I think you’ve found your true calling. That market bloke’s got nothing on you.”

Lando groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be now—two parents and a live-in chef?”

She grinned, shooting him a playful look. “Or uncle and professional bodyguard? You can even work on your Greek as a side gig. The locals will be lining up to hire you.”

“Oh, I’ll be unmissable,” he said, laughing as he took his seat across from them, a glimmer of real contentment in his eyes. He glanced over at her, nodding toward her belly. “This little one will be lucky to have you two. Even if their mum is as fierce as they come.”

Oscar gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her fingers as he smiled softly. “Well, maybe a bit of fierceness runs in the family.”

Dinner passed in easy conversation and laughter, each of them sharing memories from years past, trading stories that used to be about survival but had now softened, like old scars. The three of them spoke of the future, sharing dreams they once hadn’t dared say out loud, not because they didn’t believe in them but because none of them thought they’d make it this far.

As the evening wore on and the stars began to sprinkle the darkening sky, Oscar rose and took her hand, guiding her outside to the small terrace. Together, they leaned against the railing, looking out over the quiet landscape that stretched into the night. She felt his arm slip around her waist, drawing her close, and she leaned into his embrace, sighing with contentment.

Behind them, Lando stepped out onto the terrace, leaning against the doorframe with a rare, quiet smile as he watched them.

Oscar turned, catching his eye. “Not going to bed yet?”

“Nah,” Lando replied, shrugging. “Can’t leave you two alone to get all mushy. Besides, someone’s gotta make sure we’re safe.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the soft summer air. “Thank you, Lando. For being here. For everything.”

Lando met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them as he nodded. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He paused, then added with a grin, “And besides, I’ve got a good gig here. Food, friends… and I don’t even have to dodge bullets anymore.”

They all laughed, a shared understanding in the sound, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only people in the world. The three of them stood there, beneath a canopy of stars, basking in the kind of peace they’d fought so long to find.

As the laughter faded into a gentle, comfortable silence, Oscar leaned down to kiss her forehead, murmuring, “This is it, isn’t it?”

She looked up at him, her hand resting on her growing belly, and nodded. “Yes. This is it.”

the end.

[allwaswell16]

I'm so sorry, but for the first time in 5 years, I just don't have it in me to do an episode of Fanfictional this month. If possible, I'll be back with a new episode next month. But I do want to acknowledge the wonderful One Direction fics I read this month as well as some I revisited for comfort. Thank you so much to these amazing fic writers who have entertained me or given me some respite. For more new fics, check out this month's fic roundup here

- Louis / Harry -

🧡 Stand on Holy Ground (series) by @wishingforloushair

(E, 17k, religion kink) Louis comes back to confess again, and Harry has an idea of how Louis can show God his devotion. 

🧡 My Spiteful Ballerina by sweetkalachuchi / @neverforpickles

(M, 7k, omegaverse) Four times Harry wanted an explanation of Louis' hatred toward him, and one time Louis gives in, in Louis' fashion.

🧡 Die Without the Taste of You by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, part 2 of Vampire Harry/Human Louis One Shots) the one where human Louis might push his vampire boyfriend a little too far, but it works out in the end

🧡 Ain't a Drop of Bad Blood by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k, part 3 of Vampire Harry/Human Louis One Shots) the one where human Louis is being haunted by a spirit, and he's reluctant to ask his vampire boyfriend for help

🧡 Alone and Back Again by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 4k, omegaverse) what does one do when a feral alpha shows up in town ready to be executed?

🧡 The Shadow by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G, 666 words, dark Louis) Harry should've listened. He should've stayed inside.

- Rare Pairs -

🧡 That's Happiness To Me by @louislittletomlintum

(E, 24k, Zayn/Louis/Liam) Louis’ mind was whirring. He’d wanted to try and get with Liam tonight, but now a new, better idea was forming. Getting Liam with Zayn, if possible, would be something of a dream come true.

🧡 It’s a Craving Not a Crush by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 9k, Liam/Louis) the one where Liam and Louis are best bros who end up getting married so that Liam has the insurance he needs to go to rehab. Now that he’s sober, they can get divorced. But do they want to?

🧡 I'm the Big Fish by @lululawrence

(NR, 5k, Louis/Pedro Pascal) After an awkward moment at a party he wasn't actually invited to, Louis keeps running into the incredibly attractive Pedro Pascal. Somehow, it's Pedro who manages to keep making a fool of himself

🧡 Spirits by itsraininginengland / @ilovellama14

(E, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac) Edwardian music hall performer Louis Tomlinson meets the newest act in the show, the American magician Oscar Isaac. Romance, smut and a seance ensue.

🧡 Ci Ci Leu by @persephoneflouwers

(M, 3k, Louis & His Band) Written for the prompt «bread van fic reimagined with all the guys in Louis’ band».

🧡 Glitz, Glammer, Top Hats, Cigars and Suits by @rockstarlwt28

(NR, 3k, Louis/Dominic Harrison (Yungblud) When Isla found a love for the melody formed by a strumming of strings, Louis didn't expect to fall equally in love with his daughter’s guitar teacher, Dominic Harrison.

🧡 I regret you all the time by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 2k, Louis/Prince William) Louis’ friends don’t understand, and they wouldn’t even if he explained. But every time William texts, Louis drops everything to go see him.

- For Comfort -

🧡 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, omegaverse) This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. 

🧡  The Journal by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou, RecycledStardust / @wait4ever

(G, 14k, soulmates au) When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he’s never heard of, he doesn’t exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there.

🧡 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday

(T, 10k, witch au) Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🧡 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, omegaverse) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🧡 Have Me And Hold Me by @letsjustsee

(NR, 5k, established relationship)  a wedding day AU in which Louis will let nothing stand in the way of a perfect day - especially a little rain.

🧡 Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

🧡 Pretty and Preposterous by @brightlyharry

(NR, 5k, neighbors) Harry donates a copy of Pride and Prejudice to his little free library. He never expects what comes next.

🧡 Stealing Flowers by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, meet cute) the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

🧡 Choo-Choose Me by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(G, 3k, Liam/Louis) Liam is a commuter with a crush. Louis is the chirpy ticket inspector who occasionally mans the drinks trolley and sometimes makes announcements, his broad Yorkshire accent fighting the outdated train speakers.

[lyriumcoloredskies]

Shaken Up Hearts

Pairing: Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Zoro x Sanji, Zoro x Reader x Sanji WC: 10k Summary: Sanji's brain short-circuits. What? Did he hear that correctly? You both wanted him? “Don’t over think this.” Zoro murmurs into his ear, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. CW: 18+ MDNI, alcohol consumption, misunderstanding, idiots in love, porn with way too many feelings, angst, jealousy, pining, PIV, anal sex, oral, threesome, guy on guy, girl on guy, bisexual sanji, bisexual zoro, reader is described as AFAB, polyamory, happy ending AN: *taps cigarette on the ashtray* look idk what to say, this was supposed to be a 5k word mindless smut but it turned into this because I am incapable of writing smut without feels it seems.

Faithfulness and resoluteness.

You and Zoro.

The two of you are held in high regard as the oldest crew members, with you joining only a few days after Zoro. Dependable and resilient, should any troubles find them on the seas, the crew knew they could always rely on you two. The sentiment is shared between you and Zoro. Time and time again, Zoro proved himself worthy of the mantle of first mate, making agonizing decisions for the betterment of the crew when even Luffy couldn’t. He was a surprising voice of pragmatism in the hardest of times, something you appreciated him for.

Zoro’s opinion of you ran deep as well. Steadfast, you were a beacon in the darkest times, an outstretched hand always offered to any nakama in need. Without hesitation, you always had the right words to breathe new life into the resolves of those around you.

It’s a deep respect that’s built off watching each other defeat every obstacle to persevere despite the difficult nature of having such large dreams in a vast ocean that only knows to crush the people that enter its waters. It’s something primal as you watch in titillation as Zoro dominates his adversaries with his iron will, something Zoro reciprocates with a voracious gleam in his eyes any time he fought alongside you.

That respect for each other would sometimes turn into something mischievous. Two tigers testing the limits of each other’s boundaries, teeth bared at the anticipation of gaining ground. Friendly competition the two of you called it – the crew called it anything but. The two of you were people who, once you set your mind to something, would chase the ends of the world for it. This included winning childish competitions. It was impossible to break the two of you apart when you decided to sink your teethes into each other like snarling pups. The point was proven early into your journey, during the banquet at Vivi’s castle, an incident that would aptly be named the Drinking Contest Incident of Alabasta, where the two of you were goaded by Usopp into seeing how many barrels of alcohol each of you could consume.

'Surely they won’t go too far' Usopp thought.

He was proven wrong when both you and Zoro neared the bottom of the second barrels, only taking a break to puke in the Royal Alabastan Gardens before going back to drinking – health be damned. The night ended in you and Zoro out cold, laid out on your sides as to not choke on your own vomit while Chopper flittered about, panicking that the two morons might actually die in his care. After seeing Chopper’s visage overcome hysterics, face streaked with tears and snot, Nami beat the both of you over the head the next day. She sternly put her foot down on any future y/n and Zoro competitions. The rest of the crew dutifully agreed that you and Zoro were not to be trusted. It only took two more incidents for you and Zoro to admit they were right. It was purely out of self-preservation, lest the two of you not even survive to see your dreams fulfilled. Occasionally the competitiveness would rear up, but time had tempered the two of you. The both of you found less and less things worth fighting over, no longer did you fight over bottles of wine and sake, instead choosing to share.

Life was funny in that way.

****

You were on your 5th bottle of wine and Zoro on his 7th, not that you were counting.

Of course not.

The warm embrace of alcohol has long since settled in your flesh, the balmy air adding to the flush of your cheeks. You found yourself swaying to the beat of the Shandorian drums, beat thrumming in your veins. Drunken eyes watched as your crewmates and the Skypeians dance around the bonfire, care thrown to the wind. You glaze over the figure of Usopp surrounded by a group of children, no doubt enthralling them with a legendary tale of Captain Usopp, commander of 8000 troops.

A mixture of the wine and altitude have you searching for a place to sit, wanting to not fall on your ass in spectacular fashion. Your head swivels about, you see Robin in deep discussion with Gan Fall and rule that out. Another turn a few degrees to the left and you spy Zoro sitting alone. Fueled by bad ideas and Skypeian wine, you grab another bottle before settling on the log next to Zoro, leaving a comfortable distance in between. The rich tannins of the wine dance delightfully on your tongue, and you decide to take another pull before you offer the bottle to Zoro. He accepts, your fingers minutely brushing against each other at the pass. He takes a moment to read the label before taking a swig, throwing his head back, the prominent veins of his neck highlighted by the firelight. Traitorous eyes linger for too long at the bob of his adams apple. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth, watching the silly antics of your crew as they celebrate this hard earned win.

Zoro is the first to break the lazy pattern of back and forth with the wine. Your outstretched arm aches as you hold the bottle out for a mite too long. The confused look you offer him goes unanswered as well, the swordsman a million miles away. Your eyes follow his gaze and you can’t help the feeling that settles into your stomach with the wine.

It’s Sanji.

He’s staring at Sanji.

Sanji, who is bathed in orange glow from the bonfire, his porcelain skin flushed with pink like an angel dusted it over his cheeks. Emotions well inside of you, flooding into an ugly feeling that you found yourself wadding in. Not wanting to bother with the messiness of it all, you brashly decide to down the rest of the bottle, hoping that the burn of the alcohol would drown everything out. To hell with feeling bad on a night as good as this.

Unfortunately, like a whore on the day that the rent is due, the feelings don’t stop bothering you, nagging constantly in the inner cogs of your mind. Inhibited by the mind meddling nature of wine, your mouth opens and words you don’t recognize tumble out.

“Got a crush?”

Your fishing attempt snags you a gaping, sputtering Zoro. Fuck, now you wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Zoro’s hilarious dumbfounded expression only soothes your heart a tiny bit.

Unrestrained, a loud cackle rips out of you, another cheap cover to hide the hurt radiating through you. It seems to further Zoro’s embarrassment, the man’s cheeks flushing a pretty red. In an attempt to get even, he snatches the bottle from you only to realize it was empty.

“Asshole.”

The only response he gets from you is another cackle. It takes a few moments for you to settle down, letting the silence envelope the two of you again.

“If you like him so much, why don’t you tell him?”

You pick at the skin near your nails, an ugly habit.

“Tch. It’s not that simple.”

You roll your eyes, of course it was simple. Zoro was just an idiot. Irritation lingers like a fog in your mind as the wine fails to numb your pesky feelings. Quickly, you lose yourself, letting various fleeting thoughts pull you in every direction. Zoro doesn’t comment on your sudden silence, keeping you company while you think.

“What if I like him too?”

Two heads turn and eyes lock. Zoro’s eyes are dark and indecipherable to you as the firelight danced on them. Seconds tick by but neither of you drop your gaze.

“Marimo! Y/n-swan! Try these!”

Two pairs of eyes break their battle, swinging over to catch the sight of Sanji walking over, an excited wide grin gracing his delicate features. His signature cigarette firmly between his white teeth and in each hand he holds a skewers of meat and vegetables.

The blond thrusts a skewer to the both of you before sitting between the two of you. You examine the skewer, it’s comprised of some sort of marinated red meat and vegetables that look like mushrooms and leeks. Steam wafts upward and with it the smell of something peppery and tangy.

“The flavors are something I’ve never tried before! I asked them and they say that they use a combination of pink peppercorns and a citrus called the hand of god” Sanji prattles on, his enthusiasm palpable. You and Zoro watch him, engrossed in the boyish wonder on his face. Pairs of eyes meet again in a fragile moment. You have no words for Zoro and he has none for you, yet you know that the two of you understand each other. He studies you intensely before offering you a solid nod, one that you reciprocate. The cook chatters on, inhibitions lowered by the alcohol, oblivious to what was happening only a few inches from him.

****

The next few islands pass by uneventfully, both you and Zoro hesitant to make a move. It ends up an awkward dance around each other and Sanji, a weird tango of frustration whose steps involve having enough nerve to track down the blond but suffering from cold feet when it came to talking with him. It’s only after the events of Water 7 that you decide to muster up the gumption to try. Life was too short for you to shy away from the things you wanted, and you could tell Zoro decided the same.

“Sanji-”

The cook’s ears perk up at the melodic notes of your voice, heart stirring. He turns his attention from the prep work in front of him, meeting your face with a playboy smile.

“Yes, my sweet angel?”

“Do you mind if I watch you cook lunch?” you ask, the innocent tilt of your head making Sanji’s heart palpate. You wanted to watch him cook?

“O-of course my angel!”

You beam and it makes his heart beat rapidly. With gentle footsteps you pad into the kitchen. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of Sanji’s knifework taking over the small space. After a few minutes, his curiosity picks up and he peeks out of his periphery to see you standing a mere few inches from him, leaning close enough to touch his arm. He works on autopilot, hands relying on muscle memory as he prepped the vegetables for lunch. Your hands are clasped behind your back in your usual pose. For anyone else, Sanji would preen like a peacock, ready to show off his honed skills, but under the lens of your inscrutable eye, he feels so exposed. Trying to stave off sudden uncomfortableness of the silence his mouth opens, and he finds himself rambling about cooking techniques. Ever patient, you nod and comment in all the right places.

While Sanji loved every lady on the ship, in the deepest crevices of his heart, he would readily admit that you were his favorite. Your soft smiles of encouragement, the way you entertained his foolish notions, all of it made Sanji’s heart turn into goo in his chest.

Gods, you had managed to carve out your place in his heart so early, the memory often rewinding and replaying in his head. It hadn’t been long since he left Baratie to make his home on Merry Go, back when Luffy still had the habit of picking out the vegetables in all his dishes. You chided the boyish captain on his behalf. The first bits of kindness he received from someone who wasn’t Zeff or the Baratie cooks.

“Luffy, Sanji worked hard to cook us this food. Don’t disrespect his efforts by being picky.”

After dinner that you offered him an earnest smile, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“In case anyone hasn’t told you yet, you’re doing a wonderful job Sanji. Dinner was lovely.”

It made him feel like the same little boy stuck in the North Blue watching his mother eat his food for the first time. The grip you had on him had only tightened since then.

“You know Sanji, every time you cook, I find myself understanding you a bit more.”

Hands plating an intricate dish pause.

“A-ah why do you say that y/n-swan?”

Sanji’s heart seizes as you take one of his hands into yours, fingertips running over callouses and burn scars. An action so tender that for just a moment, Sanji could fool himself into thinking it was the touch of a lover. Your heated gaze focuses on his hands with a look of fondness, it causes him to reel, mind spinning with possibilities of what this could all mean. Did you want this just as much as he did? Did you spend your nights staring at the ceiling and thinking of him like he did with you?

“I understand why you don’t want to fight with your hands. When you cook it’s like a symphony, every movement you take, every dish you make, it’s all meant to nourish and heal. You’re built to love Sanji, not destroy.”

The lump in his throat grows until it’s too painful for him to swallow, edges of his vision blur with tears, threatening to fall. Was he so transparent that you could read him so well? A few words and you had flayed open his very existence, his heart and soul. The words you say mean more than you’ll ever know. His ocean eyes search yours hoping to find an answer to his lingering questions.

BANG

He jumps, the two of you breaking apart at the loud noise, any tension in the room dissipating.

“OIII SANJIII!! LUUUUNCH!!!”

Luffy catapult himself at Sanji, wrapping his limbs around him like an unruly octopus, much to the ire of the chef. Sanji tries to wrestle himself out of Luffy’s grasp, angrily yelling at him.

The loud noise startles you, your heart pounding a mile a minute in your chest. You marinate in the sudden surge of adrenaline for too long before you feel a hand on your wrist. Eyes trace it back to its owner – Zoro. He assesses you for a few seconds.

“You alright?”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Your pulse pounds in every inch of you and your lungs greedily swallow air and hold it in an attempt to calm down. Your thoughts race and you feel the distinct feeling of regret. Regret that you didn’t make a bolder move.

A wobbly smile is the answer Zoro gets, one that makes him frown ever so slightly. The sight makes him rub circles on your wrist with his thumb. The contact soothes you and you’re grateful that you had the swordsman as such an understanding friend. You settle a free hand on his, offering him a brighter smile, hoping to lessen his worries.

“I am.”

The two of you unaware of the pair of eyes that witnessed the scene.

****

Sanji stares from the railing of the Thousand Sunny, the light of the setting sun casts an ethereal rosy light over the glimmering ocean. Pinks, reds, and blues mashing into a myriad of colors that all swirl like glittering gems.

From the upper deck, it isn’t the sun or the ocean that Zoro admires. It’s the glow of the sun on Sanji’s face. His eyes trace the elegant slope of his nose, drinking up the way the sun dyes his fair hair into a strawberry blond. His mouth goes dry, his palms becoming sweatier by the minute. Plucking up some courage, Zoro crosses the distance of the Sunny, stopping next to the object of his desires.

“The sunset is beautiful isn’t it.”

Zoro wants to cut out his tongue. What a lame comment. Sanji deserved better. Someone who could weave him a beautiful tapestry of words, words which don’t even exist in Zoro. After all he is a man of action and not platitudes.

Sanji hums out in agreement, never moving his eyes from the beauty of the scene in front of them.

They don’t talk much, but there’s an easiness to the quiet between them as they watch the sun inch closer into the horizon. The Sunny lurches at a particularly big wave and Sanji is caught off guard, wobbling a little. He’s steadied by a hand on the small of his back.

“Ah, thanks Marimo.”

“No problem, Sanji.”

His name on the swordsman’s lips gives him pause. Zoro almost never calls him by his name. Then he becomes acutely aware that Zoro hasn’t moved his hand, his palm is large and warm on Sanji’s clothed back. The contact is like lightning in his spine and for reasons unknown his heart stutters. He mildly wonders if he should say something, unsure of what the contact means for the two of them.

Deciding his brain feels too stuffed with cotton, Sanji fishes out his lighter and cigarette from his suit jacket pocket, hoping for some clarity in the nicotine. Stupidly, he holds the pack out for Zoro offering him a cigarette, despite knowing the swordsman doesn’t smoke. Before he can rescind the gesture, Zoro’s free hand takes a cigarette from him. Their eyes meet and he finds Zoro’s are unreadable as always. The other man brings the cigarette closer to his face, rolling it in his fingers as he examines the tobacco stick. A laugh huffs out of Sanji’s mouth as he lights his cigarette. He inhales precious smoke, and in the haze of his exhale, his eyes linger a little too long at the sight of the cigarette loosely held in between Zoro’s chapped lips.

“Here let me light it for you.”

Sanji holds the lit lighter out, only for the wind to snuff it. He tries again, flicking the flint a few more times. Each time the wind picks up, extinguishing the flame. A scowl overcomes Sanji’s face.

“Here, we can just-”

Sanji looks up from the lighter at the sound of Zoro’s voice. The other man pulls his hand from Sanji’s lower back and Sanji becomes conscious of the fact that the action leaves him sad at the loss of contact. That’s when he feels the green haired man’s large palm on the back of his neck, searing into his skin as he steadies him. Zoro leans in closer bringing his cigarette to the tip of Sanji’s.

A cigarette kiss.

Sanji’s brain is a mess. ‘It’s just the damn Marimo’ he tries to reason with himself, but he feels heat lick at the apples of his cheeks.

He’s blushing. At Zoro.

The man’s actions have flustered him to his core, tongue too heavy to form words. His eyes soak in the sight of Zoro slowly sucking in – ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck?!’ his mind screams at him.

The man offers Sanji no reprieve, continuing his hold on Sanji as he made sure the of his cigarette is lit before breaking apart. Sanji’s world is tilted on its axis, heart pounding so furiously he feels it in his fingertips. He half expects it to burst through his sternum.

Zoro gives an experimental breath before hacking out a loud cough, sound reminiscent of a dying walrus. The scene is so jarring, how the man could go from turning Sanji’s brain into mush to coughing out a lung. It makes him laugh so hard he’s clutching his stomach, abs cramping as he tries to greedily swallow in more air.

It was so Zoro.

Through the tears of laughter, Sanji can see pink dusting Zoro’s face, clearly embarrassed by his lack of experience.

“Take slow inhales, mix it in with some fresh air, it gets easier after a while.”

Sanji’s smile is so wide it hurts his cheeks. He watches Zoro attempt again, the man’s body tensing in an effort to not cough out all the smoke.

“This is horrible Sanji. I don’t know how you do this every day.”

All Sanji can offer the man is a chuckle. He takes in the sight of the swordsman, bathed in the dying light of the sunset, shadows accentuating the strong lines of his face. He’s about to respond when he hears Nami’s voice calling for him.

“Sanji, the bathroom is free if you want to shower!”

He turns, giving her his undivided attention.

“Thank you Nami-chwan! You look especially beautiful after your bath!”

When Sanji turns back, Zoro is no longer facing him instead looking out into the ocean where the last glimmers of the sun fade into the horizon.

“Go ahead and take your bath, cook.”

Sanji manages a nod, feeling odd at the sudden change in attitude. Things had felt so great between them, so what happened? His feet feel heavy as he walks towards the bathroom. Halfway, he doesn’t know why but he spins on his heel, wanting to confront the man.

He wishes he didn’t.

He sees you with Zoro, again.

The two of you huddled close, your hand caressing the swordsman’s cheek. The both of you bathed in the beginnings of moonlight. Sanji’s heart clenches painfully.

It was just like before – Vinsmoke Sanji always comes in last.

****

Things progress at a snail’s pace. Both you and Zoro are seemingly thwarted at every turn whether it be Sanji rejecting your advances or being interrupted in the most inopportune times. A silver lining for Zoro comes in the form of you. Despite being his rival in love, you’re there to pick up the pieces of him, little pep talks flowing from your lips. He hopes that he’s done the same for you. The best of his efforts goes into repairing the shaky smiles on your face, splitting bottles of wine with you as the two of you gripe about love. It’s an odd routine, but one that Zoro finds himself not minding. There is comfort and familiarity in your company.

That was until the crew step foot on Sabaody Archipelago. Everything came to a grinding halt at Sabaody. It was an utter disaster. Not even a foot into the New World and the Grand Line had chewed the crew up and spat them back out.

Panic sets Zoro’s bones the minute he wakes up. Thoughts of his nakama rushing through his brain at breakneck speed. Were you all safe? Did you guys make it off Sabaody? Zoro keenly feels the loss of his crew, guilt seeping into every crack in his heart. If only he had been stronger - strong enough to defeat Bartholomew Kuma on Thriller Bark, strong enough to carry everyone’s dreams on his back.

He spends two days lost in the maze of a castle that weird Ghost Girl brought him to, trying desperately to find his swords. He squashes down the invasive thoughts attempting to claw its way into his mind – were you all even still alive? It doesn’t help that the girl, Perona he finds out is her name, keeps giving him directions that seem to get him lost even further. Frustration bubbles under his skin. He is wholly useless, a feeling that is reaffirmed when he is defeated by the humandrills, his only hope of reaching his friends dashed by his own inadequacy.

When he feels like things couldn’t get worse, he hears about Ace. Zoro wants to scream, to dig his fingers into his chest and rip out his own beating heart. Frustration, fury, despair – it all whirls inside of him for Luffy. How could things have gone so wrong?

Zoro tries hard not to wallow in his sadness. He beats down his pride and grovels to Mihawk, begging the man he wants to defeat one day to teach him, to make him into a man worthy of being called Luffy’s nakama.

Time flows, and slowly but surely, Zoro adapts to his life on the deserted island. Mihawk is a fair teacher and his brutal teaching methods have Zoro progressing faster than even he could admit. Although the lack of alcohol grates on his nerves. Though he would never admit it out loud, Perona isn’t too bad either when she isn’t annoying him.

He spends his days training, eating, and sleeping, a routine that isn’t unfamiliar to him, but his mind remains plagued by the brewing thoughts of you and Sanji.

His mind goes in cycles, starting with hopes that you two are alright. Surely you’re safe, Zoro’s mind doesn’t want to can’t think of the alternative. He wonders if Sanji has found himself on an island with enough food, cold fear nestled in his heart at the idea of the cook going without. He hopes you have extra blankets at night, his mind supplying him images of your shivering body on Drum Island, lips tinged blue.

The months gruel onward and late at night, when the world is silent and his body aches from the brutal beatings from Mihawk, Zoro imagines your soft touches, a comforting hand on his shoulder when things went wrong. He dreams of the bottle of sake he desperately wants to split between you two, talking about any and everything. He wants to see your smile.

On days where the sun blisters in the sky and Mihawk forces him to help with the farming, Zoro wonders if Sanji would be impressed. Would he give Zoro that smug grin of his, telling him to till the farm with appreciation for the food it grew? Would he be brave enough to commandeer Mihawk’s kitchen, lecturing to Zoro the entire time he cooks about how he needs to eat the right macronutrients to gain muscle. Zoro luxuriates in what-if’s and could-be’s, day in and day out.

He spends the hours of sundown to sunrise, staring at the cold grey stone ceiling of the castle pondering in a mire of his own doing. He wanted both of you but was desperate to hold onto what you and him had together, while craving every potential what-if with Sanji.

He stews in his feelings for months, unable to take himself out of his own head.

On a day where Mihawk is away on business, Zoro finds himself in the dining room, sun barely rising into the sky. Perona was nice enough to fix breakfast for the two of them but it only puts Zoro in a worse mood. His body is gripped in nostalgia, heart aching to wake up to the sound of Luffy and Chopper’s chatter in the morning, to pass by a sleep drunk Usopp and Franky grumbling out good mornings, and to make his way to the kitchen and have a plate be handed to him by the star of half his dreams. Increasingly lost in his own thoughts, he’s oblivious to Perona’s pouting.

“Ugh! You’re such a jerk!”

Perona waits a few seconds, giving the mosshead time to come to his senses and apologize but minutes tick by and she finds herself empty handed. In childish anger, her hands slam on the table.

“What the hell? Aren’t you going to thank me for breakfast??”

She is only given a wave, the gesture vaguely dismissal.

“Okay you idiot, what is it? What could possibly be so important that you forget to thank the person who saved your life?”

The question gives Zoro pause. He deliberates in his head a bit, uneasiness mashing in the pit of his stomach. To let someone know about his problems felt too vulnerable, but against his will the words of his dilemma spill out of him like an ugly fountain with fat babies on it, like the ones he saw plastered all over Water 7.

Perona regards him for a few minutes before rolling her eyes.

“You’re not very smart, are you?”

“The fuck?”

“You’re a pirate idiot. Being a pirate means you take what you want, you don’t need to share. So have both, duh. Who says you can’t have a boyfriend and a girlfriend?”

Whiplash. His brain rattles in his skull at Perona’s words. How ridiculous. This is what he gets for telling her his problems. He opens his mouth to tell her off but then the words sink into him.

Both? He could have both?

They were both strong enough to protect themselves, their bounties reflecting their skill, determined enough to pursue their own goals. They, more than anyone on the ship, knew the stakes of his dreams, not once had they ever discouraged him. Plus, the thought of the two of them tangled in a mess of naked limbs beckoning Zoro to join was a particularly tasty thought.

Perona shoots him a smug smile.

“You’re welcome~”

****

Nerves rattle through your body as you disembark from the small sailboat, steered by the kind martial arts master that found you two years ago. The elderly woman pats your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry dearie, I’m sure your boys are waiting for you. Now you make sure you stay safe and don’t forget to always pack a scarf.”

You give her a bright smile.

“Thank you so much, for everything. I’ve learned so much! Please make sure you tell everyone I got here alright.”

The woman matches your smile before waving you off. Excited feet don’t hesitate to quickly wander down Sabaody, taking you down semi familiar paths. You count the grove numbers in your head, excitement gripping your stomach as you finally arrive.

Grove 13.

The sight of the wooden sign of Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar shoots fresh nerves into your veins, anticipation ripe in your head. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves before you push open the door to the bar.

Your eyes skim over the empty chairs and booths, finally settling on a green clad figure at the bar. Time slows and your heart threatens to burst out of your sternum, you can feel your pulse in your ear, not even hearing his name tumble out of your lips. The sight of him makes tears sting the corners of your eyes.

Zoro.

His signature three swords are still affixed to his side, hilts glinting in the low light of the establishment. A head turn makes the three golden strands of his earrings collide into each other. He stands tall and proud, two years of effort reflected in his new silhouette. You run to him, finding half of everything you had missed in the last two years in his hug. Tears run down your cheeks, absorbed by the green of his outfit, staining the fabric dark. You can’t bring yourself to care.

He still smells like steel and sea salt.

He presses a kiss to your hair, his large hands rubbing circles on your back as he pulls you closer to his chest. After seconds that feel too short, you part from him. You soak in the sight of his familiar features. Your eyes trace over the new scar over his eye, the strong line of his jaw, the slight bump in his nose. Hands wander up his biceps and you can’t help but ghost your fingertips over the newly acquired scars present on exposed skin. Fingers smooth over every part of him, his wide chest, his corded arms, all of it – desperate to memorize him after these years apart.

Lost in the moment, you miss the way Rayleigh and Shakky sharing a knowing smile.

Fingers interlaced, you let Zoro lead you to his room at a small bed and breakfast in Grove 17. You aren’t even mad when he gets lost twice, taking you down a winding path to Grove 7 instead. You missed this, the idiosyncrasies that come with living with someone, spending every waking hour together.

Once in the room you let your small bucket bag tumble to the floor. You wait patiently until Zoro has a chance to take off his katanas before you throw yourself into his arms again, the two of you tumbling into the small bed. His entire presence offers you a familiar comfort. He felt like home. You can tell he feels the same, the way he holds you tightly, as if you would disappear from his arms at any moment. He buries his nose into your hair and his chest moves from under you as he inhales. The two of you stay like that for several minutes, the silence finally being broken by Zoro.

“Y/n, I don’t want to be without you.”

Shivers shoot down your spine.

“What about Sanji?”

“Him too. We’re pirates y/n, we take what we want.”

You bury your face deeper into his muscular chest, heart fluttering in your own chest.

“Good, I don’t know what I’d do without my two boy toys.”, your words come out muffled and you can feel the vibrations as Zoro chuckles.

Lifting your head, you give him a lascivious grin. His eyes are as intense as ever, but you find that this time around you can pin down the emotions within because they’re the same as yours.

Your lips meet his in a kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to accept. His lips are warm and chapped, a combination you quickly find yourself addicted to. Your arms move on their own, snaking around his neck as his wrap around your waist, bringing you in closer to him. The both of you move feverishly, desperate to make sure this moment didn’t evaporate into the ether. His kiss is hungry, ferocity over taking you before he seems to rein it back in. He coaxes out a whimper from you as his hands wander to your bottom before pulling your hips in close to his, letting you straddle his waist. You let out a gasp as you feel his hardness grinding on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Utilizing the last braincell that isn’t drenched in hormones, you place a placating hand on his chest.

“Patience. Not without Sanji.”

To your surprise he is in agreeance with you, but he gives you a devilish grin all the same.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t get to kiss what’s mine.”

Laughter peels out of you, as Zoro smashes his lips into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh in a manner that was both ticklish and sensual.

“You’re right, it doesn’t.”

****

Sanji doesn’t know what to think. Reality was, he saw this was coming, the signs glaring at him two years ago.

You and Zoro were together.

The whole crew seemed to know it too.

“Yohohoho! They’re quite a handsome couple, don’t you agree Miss. Robin?”

“They do complement each other quite well.”

Everyone has seen the two of you look at each other, shooting puppy eyes at the dinner table, and of course Sanji is distinctly aware of the way Zoro takes your small hands into his, a rogue thumb tracing idle circles into your smooth skin. It’s all too intimate for two people who are “just crewmates”.

Sanji’s heart is broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces and he doesn’t know where to begin to put it all back together. He was an utter fool for having clung onto hope for two years, spending his days daydreaming about how the pieces would all fall into place, the two of you accepting his confessions of undying love.

Stupid, stupid Sanji.

The voices of his past mock him. How could anyone love stupid Sanji. How silly of you to even dream. Nestled in the sicker part of his brain, he wonders who he’s more jealous of – you or Zoro.

It should be him, his jealousy addled self whispers to him in the dead of night but Sanji knows it’s his fault for even daring to dream. The two of you were better off together. So, every day, he wakes up, chokes down the feelings that threaten to well up inside of him, and continue as if nothing was wrong.

He had been doing it well enough for the last twenty odd years, what’s the harm in a few more?

****

It doesn’t take long for an opportunity to present itself to you and Zoro.

The Sunny docks on a small island to restock on basic supplies and through divine intervention the stars align. Zoro catches the last vestiges of Sanji’s conversation with Nami, picking up the tidbit that he would come back to the ship immediately after he procured fresh meat and produce. Taking his chance, he offers himself and you up for guard duty, a move that garners no protest or suspicion.

After the crew clears out, the anxiety builds in your chest, your head spins and your palms feel clammy as the minutes pass by. Zoro doesn’t say it, but you could tell he felt the same, his rough fingers constantly flitting over the hilt of his katanas. You and Zoro split a bottle of sake for liquid courage, downing it like teenagers instead of passing it along at your usual leisurely pace. The sake helps a bit, dulling down the feelings.

The two of you are on the upper deck when you hear the click of expensive dress shoes on wood. Peeking, you spy Sanji’s golden hair as he reboards the ship. You signal Zoro with a nod of your head. The two of you break, Zoro to the kitchen to fetch Sanji and you to the women’s dormitory. Long strides quickly lead you to where you need to be, settling down on the blue comforter of your bed.  

In the midst of fiddling with a loose thread on one of your sheets, you hear the door open. Nerves tingle through your body as you see Sanji’s figure enter.

“A-ah y/n-swan! Marimo said you needed help with something?”

He takes a few strides, standing at the foot of the bed you were sitting on. The door clicks as Zoro shuts it behind him. Sanji sucks in a breath, suddenly feeling trapped in this confined space, anxiety pooling in his stomach.

“O-oh! Well Sanji you see… Um, w-well we..”

You bite your lips, fingers picking at the skin near your nails, something Sanji picks up on. He can’t help the prickling of curiosity in the back of his brain. What got you, the very definition of calm and collected, so nervous?

“We want you, Sanji.”

It’s Zoro this time, the timber of his voice nearly reverberating in his bones as he becomes aware of how close the man stands behind him. You nod in agreeance.

Sanji’s brain short-circuits.

What?

Did he hear that right? You both wanted him?

Sanji searches your face for any inkling of deception but your cheeks are flush and you avoid his eyes out of nervousness.

“Don’t over think this.” Zoro murmurs into his ear, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. The other man’s large hands come from behind him and roam on his chest, going over the silky fabric of his suit. The action pulls him in closer to Zoro, sending shivers up his spine. It doesn’t take long for Sanji to make up his mind.

So be it.

He’ll take whatever scraps you have to offer him. Maybe if he gets a taste, it’ll be out of his system, and he’ll be free to pursue all the beautiful men and women he encounters in his travels. Maybe if he closes his eyes, he can imagine that this is something more than just sex.

He continues to feed himself the shallow lies.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

At his affirmation, Sanji feels hand on his head, turning him into a hungry kiss. Chapped lips meet his and Sanji can faintly taste the sweetness of sake on Zoro’s breath. It’s everything Sanji has dreamed of. In the midst of their kiss, Sanji feels your hands undoing his tie, and unbuttoning his jacket and dress shirt. An impatient tongue spears into his mouth, coaxing his own tongue into a dance, drawing a moan from the blond man. A hot tongue presses into his neck and he can’t help the gasp that rises to his lips. In contrast to Zoro, your lips are soft and silky. You stamp fire into his skin with every kiss, setting his body into flames.

Breathless, he breaks the kiss with Zoro only to have you pull him into another one, gentler but no less voracious.

He’s aware of Zoro helping him shed his shirt and jacket, but his head feels stuffed with cotton, not quite to registering any of it. A soft tongue mingles with Sanji’s and delicate hands caress the bare skin of his chest, each movement leaving gooseflesh in its wake. The light flicks to his nipples have him groaning into your mouth. The kiss breaks with a soft sigh from you, and Zoro surges forward to capture you a playful kiss, sandwiching Sanji between the two of you. The friction of the two bodies, one soft and one sturdy, melts his mind, his pants feeling tighter by the moment.

A larger rougher set of hands replace the soft ones on his chest as you kneel in front of Sanji, making quick work of his belt. You lavish his abs with floaty kisses and occasional playful nibbles, following down the trail of soft downy hair until you reach his boxers. You make quick work of that too, freeing his erection.

You nearly drool of the sight Sanji’s cock slapping against his belly, marking a spot on his belly with shiny precum. His cock is picturesque, like the men of the dirty magazines you used to buy as a teenager, a few shades darker than his porcelain skin leading into a dusky pink tip oozing slick. You give an experimental lick up the shaft before engulfing the tip in your mouth, making circles over it with your tongue. Sanji throws his head back, gracing you with a breathy pretty groan.

The salty taste of his precum ignites a fire deep in you, a need to taste more overcomes every sense. Driven by your baser instincts, you press down further, taking as much as you could until you feel him hit the back of your throat, eyes welling with tears as you try to stave off your gag reflex. His delicate fingers tangle into your hair, hands resting on your head. Pressed so close to Sanji his pubic hair tickles your lips and you can smell the clean rich sandalwood of his soap. You set a slow pace, looking up through dark lashes to observe Sanji’s expressions as he loses himself in the feeling of your mouth. Each circle of your tongue over the tip has him whimpering, his cheeks and chest flushed pink.

Not to be left out, Zoro joins you, kneeling in front of the blond man. You release his cock with a pop and stroke it lightly.

“Want a taste?”

Zoro gives a devilish smirk, coming in closer. He gives the tip kitten licks before slowly taking more of the length in his mouth.

“Tastes good doesn’t it?”

A muffled response has you grinning. You take a few moments take your own clothes off, only stopping to appreciate the sight of Zoro pouring his attention to Sanji’s cock. The contrast of the two men bubbles excitement in you, a longing finally quenched. Zoro is all muscle, posture and stance reflecting power and brutality, but Sanji’s is refined elegance, fluid even while motionless, muscles seemingly sculpted by a maestro.

Kneeling back down, you throw yourself into the fray of saliva and skin, taking one of Sanji’s balls into your mouth, earning a loud groan from the man. The two males’ intermingling musk cloying in your head, fogging up any thought you could muster. Sanji’s hips buck and Zoro gags, pulling another moan from the blond. You slowly suckle, running circles on the surface of his ball sack with your tongue before releasing it to lick up the shaft. Zoro meets you in a messy kiss with Sanji’s cock in the middle of two pairs of lips. Your tongues dance over the veiny surface of Sanji’s dick, occasionally skimming each other.

Sanji wants to throw his head back, to lose himself in the sensation of two mouths lavishing him with attention but he’s caught up in the sight of you and Zoro, your tongues fighting on his cock, hoping to find more skin to lick and suck at. The two of you work in synch, soon moving upward to suckle at the reddened tip of his cock.

“S-stop or I’ll cum” Sanji whines out, making you and Zoro share a laugh, shifting away from his sensitive cock to find each other in a kiss.

Feeling emboldened by the sexually charged energy, you saunter over to the bed, sitting and spreading your legs wide open. Sanji practically drools at the sight, stumbling over the clothes on the floor to get in closer.

Sanji slots himself between your legs, moving closer to kiss you. His lips are soft, and the hints of lingering tobacco pull you in for more. Sanji’s tender affection is a deluge you drown in, heart full you reciprocate keenly. He peppers kisses down your jawline before interspersing tender open mouth kisses on your neck. A hot tongue trails down further before capturing a nipple between his teeth. His actions are delicate, but they draw whimpers out of you, heat pooling between your thighs at the teasing. Sanji’s strong hands cup your breasts, massaging softly as his tongue runs circles around your hard nipples, dousing them in messy suckles.

He offers the same treatment to your other breast before trailing more kisses down until his head is settled between your thighs. You can feel his hot breath, a gossamer on your sensitive skin. The flat of his tongue licks a stripe through your folds and your back arches at the contact.

“Fuck angel, you’re so wet” he murmurs before diving back in, tongue working through your folds before encircling your clit.

“Mm fuck Sanji”, moans pour out of you endlessly, your hands tangling themselves in the golden silk of his hair.

His strong hands hold your hips steady as he begins to suckle at your clit, giving occasional kitten licks, as anticipated, the action has you bucking your hips, thighs tightening around his head as he tightens the coil in your loins, nerves dancing on fire.

Zoro’s calloused hands run over Sanji’s torso, earning a shiver from the man. His fingertips take time to appreciate the valley of muscles before moving to his hips, propping them up into position. Sanji is a mess of gooseflesh as rough fingers part his cheeks, exposing him to the other man. A hot tongue presses on his hole and Sanji lets out a gasp that’s muffled in your skin. The sensation is foreign as the tongue wriggles against his tight hole, but pleasure quickly finds him. Zoro’s tongue circles around his puckered hole, massaging and working the muscle, each move deliberate in driving Sanji further into a chasm of pleasure until he’s relaxed. Zoro intersperses it with licks from the flat of his tongue, the contrast drawing out whimpering moans from the blond. When he pulls away, Sanji whines.

“Get these wet for me.”

Sanji complies, taking his head out from your cunt to take Zoro’s digits in his mouth, tongue running over each individual one. Zoro grins at the sight of Sanji desperately sucking on his fingers while his goatee shines with your slick.

A whine from you has Zoro withdrawing his fingers from the other man’s hot mouth, allowing him to return to your needy hole.

Sanji returns to lavishing your clit with licks, before plunging a tongue deep in you hoping to taste more of your essence. Pressure against his puckered hole pauses him in the middle of his pussy eating. Your thighs tighten around him as you buck desperately against his mouth, hoping to find more friction despite his lack of action.

The breech of a large finger pulls a sound out of him, a mixture of a moan and a scream. You offer your own moan at the vibrations of Sanji’s on your clit.

Zoro presses kisses onto the skin of his buttocks, rubbing soothing circles on his skin as Sanji adjusts to the foreign intrusion. Slowly, he begins to rock his finger back and forth, occasionally stopping to spit on Sanji’s hole, an action that has the man’s dick twitching.

“Don’t worry Sanji he’ll be gentle. Won’t you marimo?” you tease, tone breathy from your own arousal at seeing Zoro knuckle deep in Sanji.

“We’ll see about that.”

Sanji turns to tell Zoro off, but the aforementioned man’s free hand grabs his head, shoving him back into your cunt, earning a squeal from you.

“Focus Sanji” Zoro gravels out, voice thick with lust. You snake your legs around Sanji’s head, heels resting on his mid back.

“He’s right Sanji, wanna cum so bad”

As if to demonstrate your need, your hips buck into his open mouth, hoping to find a tongue to grind into. Ever the gentleman, Sanji grants your request, eating you out with renewed vigor.

Zoro continues to work his fingers into him, one finger becomes two, pumping becomes scissoring, and soon Sanji feels more stretched out than possible. Sanji lets out loud moan after moan into your clit when he feels the man continuously brush his prostate. His mouth is messy with saliva and your slick, jaw aching as he continues to devour you. You reward him with looks from dark lashes glimmering with tears, your soft skin flushed by his ministrations. Pretty whines of his name spill out from your lips, urging him on as you chase your high. Your fingers clench onto his hair, the pain from the pulling mixing with the shockwaves that Zoro’s fingers provide him.

“A-ah right there S-sanji!”

Your tighten your legs around Sanji, a loud wail escaping you, hands fisting the blankets underneath as the coil in your belly snaps. Your orgasm wracks your body, vision going dark and heartbeat in your ear. Sanji’s tongue doesn’t stop, sending pins and needles through your nerves. Tears dot the corners of your eyes as he eats your overstimulated pussy out until you’re crying his name, begging him to stop. When he relents, you pull him into a kiss, tasting your own salty juices on his lips. You swipe your fingers over his messy slick shined lips and chin, offering them to Zoro who sucks on them with enthusiasm before letting go with a pop of his mouth.

You shimmy out from under Sanji, the blond pushing himself to all fours to offer you more space. Moving off to the side, you take in the sight of Zoro greedily pumping three fingers into Sanji who’s offering himself up like a dog in heat, whimpers pouring out of his mouth. Sanji’s dick is standing tall, precum dribbling out from the tip and onto the bedsheets where you can already spy a dark wet stain forming. You wrap a hand around his cock, thumb smearing the precum as you begin to pump up and down at a torturous pace. Sanji’s head buries into the bed as he lets out a string of expletives. You and Zoro share a naughty grin.

It doesn’t take long for Sanji to start moving his hips, desperately fucking himself into Zoro’s fingers trying to plunge deeper.

Zoro pulls out of him, and you take your hand off of his cock, Sanji is left whining at the loss of contact.

He isn’t left alone for long as Zoro pushes him into the bed before flipping him around so he’s on his back. Zoro devours the sight of Sanji’s hair pooling around him in a radiant halo, his cheeks flushed pink and dick twitching for attention. You come back and pass Zoro a bottle, lowering yourself to take the man’s dick in your mouth. Sanji’s eyes are glued to the sight of you bobbing your head along the impressive length of the swordsman. He watches as Zoro’s eye closes, clearly enjoying the way you’re taking all of him in. It isn’t long before the swordsman pulls you up and into a kiss.

Jealousy grips Sanji’s heart. Brook was right, the two of you were a beautiful couple.

You take the bottle from Zoro and pour out a viscous liquid onto your fingers, soaking them in it before wrapping it around Zoro’s cock, wetting him with long strokes.

“Fuc-k babe that feels good”

You offer Zoro one final kiss, a mischievous hand coming to smack the swordsman’s bottom sending him on his way to Sanji.

Zoro slots himself between Sanji’s legs, wrapping his hands around his ankles before yanking him, moving him closer to the edge of the bed. For the first time Sanji’s cock presses into Zoro’s and it twitches in excitement, the blond shudders at the contact. Zoro captures his lips into a kiss and Sanji loses himself in it. Sea salt and steel invade his senses, wiping his mind blank of every thought. Rough hands find their way to his slender hips, rubbing circles along the bone. Slim smaller fingers press against his hole, taking time to slather him in the same viscous liquid.

When Zoro breaks the kiss, Sanji opens his eyes, taking in the sight of the swordsman on top of him.

“You ready?”

He isn’t, but Sanji nods.

The blunt tip of Zoro’s cock on his hole startles him, and for the first time he begins to wonder how in the fuck he’s supposed to take all of it inside of him.

Then the push comes, a groan is ripped from his chest as Zoro breaches his tight hole for the first time. Sanji feels panic well inside of him. He’s going to be torn in two, there’s no doubt about it. The blond squirms in discomfort, and you’re quick to notice, kissing his tears away, interlacing your fingers with his.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby. You’re doing so good, such a good boy for us”

Zoro takes it at Sanji’s pace, allowing the blond to adjust to the stretch. One hand steadies his hip and the other strokes his calf, bringing it closer so the green haired man can press kisses into the pale skin.

Through the pain and panic, Sanji finds himself delusional. With his eyes closed and brain shut off, he imagines this is what it would be like to be loved by the both of you, drowning him in sweet nothings, soft kisses, and praises of what a good boy he is.

It takes a deliberate amount of self-control for Zoro to inch in slowly, the sight of Sanji’s greedy hole swallowing his shaft has anticipation pumping through his veins. He finds himself resisting the urge to pin the blond down and ravage him right there, to stretch his hole out so fully that it molds itself to the shape of Zoro’s cock and his alone. It isn’t long before he finds himself full sheathed, Sanji clenching around his dick, sending mind numbing pleasure into Zoro.  

He holds him there, offering more time to adjust as he holds the blond’s hips steady. Letting go of Sanji’s hand, you happily move into the mix of bodies, sitting on top of Sanji, a hand guiding his length into you. As the tip of his dick enters you, Sanji throws his head back, wailing into his fist as he tries to quiet himself. Slowly, you sink into his length, engulfing him with tight searing heat. You’re tighter than he expected. You lean back, pressing your back into Zoro’s muscle bound chest as you turn to give him a kiss. He moans into your mouth as your tongues meld into each other.

In need of friction, you start a slow pace, moving up and down on Sanji’s length.

“F-fuck, oh my fucking g-god, feels ‘sgood” Sanji slurs out, tongue lolling and mind blank.

Zoro pulls from your kiss to start pumping into Sanji, ever impatient he fucks the blond with aggression. Unabashedly, the swordsman lets out a groan at the feeling, Sanji gripping his cock like a vise.

“Yer so fucking tight for me babe”

The blond isn’t shy about making noises, screams and moans mixing together as they leave his mouth. Zoro’s finger’s dig into the man’s hips to gain more purchase as he thrusts particularly deep, punching the air out of Sanji’s lungs, his legs spasming as Zoro jabs into his prostate. His body seizes, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he babbles out nonsense.

Sanji can’t think, he can barely breath with Zoro’s cock bullying him out of air only for your tight pussy to greedily clench, only allowing him short gasps of breath. He loses himself entirely in the feeling of being thoroughly used by the two of you, drool leaking out of the side of his mouth as eyes stare unfocused.

Sanji’s dick curves and hits the most sensitive parts of you, brushing along your g-spot as you bounce up and down on him, desperately chasing your own high.

“S-sanji, your cock f-feels so good baby”

Your words begin to slur as you feel the beginnings of an orgasm gather in your loins.

Sanji is the first to cum, letting out a loud wail as he bucks his hips upward, shooting his cum deep inside of you. The feeling of his warm cum flooding you makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, you keep riding him through his orgasm, oversensitive cock still hard as you grind down on it, losing yourself in the pleasure of his spongy dick tip grinding into your cervix. Zoro’s hand snakes around your hips, fingers pinching and rolling your clit, sending fireworks of pleasure into your spine, you hold onto Sanji, nails digging deep. Zoro’s thrusts get deeper, rocking you and Sanji. His breathing is choppy, moans spilling out of his lips as Zoro chases his own high.

Fireworks burst behind your eyelids as you feel the orgasm wrack your body, tears gathering in your eyes as your moan stutters in your throat. Sanji whimpers as your pussy milks his oversensitive cock for more cum. Zoro’s arm wraps around your waist and the other on Sanji’s thigh as he pulls both of you closer, the coil buried deep in his belly threatening to snap. He picks up the pace, relentlessly hammering inside of Sanji, the movement causing Sanji’s dick to rub the sensitive tissue of your cervix, gushing out the cum deep inside of you. The tight friction of Sanji’s hole is delicious as Zoro gives the last few pumps before burying himself as deep as possible in the blond, head resting on the crook of your neck as he came. His loud groan is muffled in your skin, stars shoot across his vision as he paints Sanji’s walls white, belly clenching as he slowly rocks the last vestiges of his orgasm out.

The three of you fall on the bed in a mess of limbs, sweat, and body fluids. You’re out of it until you feel an arm wrapping around you, hazily recognizing it as Zoro’s, bringing you and Sanji closer to him. You press yourself into his side, craving the comfort of his embrace. Your head rests on his wide chest listening to the pounding heartbeat as he presses a kiss into your sweaty hairline.

Zoro’s heart feels full as he watches his two lovers, fully sated and thoroughly fucked, resting in his arms, the trust they put in him is implicit.

The peace is broken when Sanji breaks out of the embrace, getting out of the bed picking up pieces of various strewn about clothing. The action startles you and Zoro out of your post orgasm glow, the two of you sharing a confused look.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Zoro’s voice cuts through Sanji’s soul. Steeling himself, he looks up at the two of you, still wrapped around each other, clearly comfortable - a comfort Sanji can’t indulge in lest he lose more of his heart.

“Ah. Well, I figured you guys had your fun, right?” he weakly chuckles.

The silence is deafening.

“No need for me to linger while you tw-“

“Sanji when we said we wanted you we meant all of you. You mean more to us than just sex, we adore you.”

His body tenses in surprise, the shock written all over his face.

Zoro leans forward, grabbing Sanji’s hand to pull him back into the mess of limbs.

“C’mere and cuddle us Sanji.”

Sanji sinks into the cuddle, hungry heart full for the first time in a long time.

©2023 lyriumcoloredskies do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[cozage]

you wanna do continue the one you did where the s/o gets captured? Get them rescuuuued. please and thank you :D

A/N: I actually have two of these requests in my inbox, and these got really long because I’m insane and have to write every detail, so I’m going to break these up into three different posts so people aren’t stuck reading and scrolling through a 10k fic on tumblr. Ace and Law’s will be coming soon!

Characters: female reader x Luffy

Cw:  angst, drugging, near-death experience

Total word count: 2.3k

Summary: You've been captured by marines, and the Strawhats work to get you back. (Followup from this request)

Rescued by Pirates - Luffy

Luffy stood at the top of the cliff, staring down the Marine fleet in the bay. There were ten ships, and you were on one of them. Captured. Alone. He knew you were fighting, but there’s only so much you could do in a locked prison cell with sea prism cuffs. 

“I’m coming.” Luffy muttered, hoping the wind would carry his words to you. “Wait for me. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Luffy, get down!” Nami pulled the captain back over the ridge, keeping him out of sight from the scouts. “If a Marine sees you this whole stealth operation is over!”

Luffy groaned and slumped to the ground. “I don’t even know why this has to be a stealth operation! If we just start smashing everything-”

“They’ll kill her.” Sanji said, and Luffy grew quiet. “If they know we’re coming, they’ll execute her now and report it to the news coo after.”

“They probably have people waiting outside her cell to do it as soon as the call is made,” Franky admitted coldly. “They don’t want another repeat of…” he trails off, and everyone knows what he’s going to say. 

They don’t want another repeat of Ace. Luffy embarrassed the entire World Government when he broke into Impel Down, broke out of Impel Down, and then sailed to Marineford and freed Ace from his shackles. 

“It’s possible that’s why they’re still here.” Nami’s voice was worried as she spoke everyone’s thoughts. “They’re baiting us so they can kill her. They don’t want to transport her just to have Luffy embarrass them again.”

“It would make sense why they haven’t taken off yet,” Brook added. 

“Or they’re waiting for backup,” Sanji countered. “She’s a dangerous pirate, but the Navy always prefers public executions. Especially with the new leader having a personal vendetta against Luffy, he’ll want to kill her publicly if possible. I’m sure of it.”

“Then we have to go!” Luffy started to stand to his feet, frustrated with the lack of action, but Nami quickly pulled him back down. 

“Let Robin and Brook handle this first part! We have to find her first before you start smashing everything to bits!”

Luffy hated waiting. Especially when there's nothing he could do to pass the time. But finally, after about 30 minutes of silence, Robin opened her eyes. 

“She’s on the fourth ship in the back with the red and yellow tailwind sail. Under deck, in a prison cell. Shackles on her arms and legs, and a neck collar.”

Luffy’s eyes peeked over the cliffside to find the ship Robin was describing. He located it, and sprang forward to jump over the cliff, but strong arms held him back. 

“Zoro, let me go! We know where she is!” He struggled to break free from the swordsman's grasp. “We have to go get her!”

“Hang on Luffy, we need a plan before we just jump into action!”

--

The guard change comes early today, which you find odd. Normally the Marines are dragging their feet to stand guard over your cell, but then you spot green hair poking out from the marine cap, the man next to him with a very familiar scar across his cheek, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“So, the keys?” Zoro holds his hand out to the Navy officer watching over you, who laughs in his face. 

“This must be your first time imprisoning a pirate, kid,” the old man says. “We don’t keep the keys anywhere near the prison. You know how easy it would be for someone to knock out a guard and take them? Let me show you the ropes, kid.”

The old man and his colleague turn to face you for the first time in hours, ushering Zoro and Luffy to look at you now. You can see Luffy is in visible pain just from looking at you. 

Your arms and legs were each shackled to the wall, and you had a contraption around your neck that looked strikingly similar to the ones the Celestial Dragons used on their slaves. Blood caked your hair and trickled down your face. Your body was littered in scratches and bruises, your clothes torn from whatever battle had happened that Luffy wasn’t there for. 

“Each one of those shackles has a different key, and that neck collar too, as well as the key to the jail cell itself. Each of those keys are on a different ship, and we’ve got instructions to throw the keys into the harbor if we catch a glimpse of a Strawhat approaching the ship. 

“The best part, though,” he continues, with a hungry malice in his eyes. He raises his hand to point a finger at your neck. “That collar has a fun little detonator. The Vice Admiral has the control button if it comes to that. And the collar itself administers a sedative every hour on the hour, and gives another dose if someone touches the bars.” 

He smacked the bars for good measure, and you flinched as you felt a pinch in your neck. 

“Honestly it’s a miracle she’s still awake. We like to hit the bars every now and then just to keep her calm. Don’t want her causing a scene now, do we?”

You were trying your hardest not to stare at Luffy. You can see the rage consuming his body as he realizes what an insurmountable task it is to save you. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head viciously to relay a simple message. Run. Don’t save me.

But you know he won’t listen. He never has. Not with Robin or Ace or Sanji or anyone else he’s saved against their will. And he certainly won’t do it with you either. 

“I see a pretty big flaw in this whole design,” Zoro said, staring at the cell you were in. You could see he was enraged as well, but he was hiding it better than Luffy. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“Can’t they just cut it?”

The old Marine let out a hardy laugh at his question. “Sea prism stone is the hardest substance in the world. Nobody can cut through that, I don't care if it’s Dracule Mihawk himself!”

“Oh, Mihawk can cut Sea Prism Stone.” The green-haired man gave a devilish smirk to the Marine.

You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. Zoro only had two swords with him, but it would be enough. 

You heard a whirlwind of air swirl around you, and you could feel the weight on your arms get lighter. There were several pinches in your neck, and you could feel yourself involuntarily slip into unconsciousness. 

--

Zoro had put just a bit too much power into his swings to free you, and the cuts ripped through the ship behind you. He then turned to the marines, wickedly smiling at them. 

“Told ya.” He smacked the younger one with the hilt of the sword and the marine crumpled to the ground, but the older marine was fast and dodged Zoro’s attack. The Marine locked Zoro into a battle of swords, occupying his ability to get the other chains off of you.

Luffy sprang into action, running to grab you. He screamed your name as he ran to you, jumping over sea prism stone rubble and other debris to reach you. He knew Zoro hadn’t hurt you, but you were slumped against the ship wall, and he couldn’t help but think about how fragile you looked. He shook you, desperately trying to wake you up. 

And then Luffy heard a beeping sound, coming from the collar around your neck. The same sound that he was helpless against in Sabaody. “ZORO!” He screamed, holding you tight. 

“Forgot to mention,” the older marine grinned back at the swordsman, keeping him locked in a battle. “Tamper with the chains too much and the collar will detonate, even without a push from the button.”

Zoro tightened his muscles in horror. “Luffy, get it off of her!”

“I hear she’s the weakness of Strawhat Luffy. Let’s watch and see, shall we? Perhaps he’ll have an even worse reaction than in Marineford.” The marine's gaze was on Luffy now, eager to see him snap. 

Luffy ignored the weight of what failure meant for you. He focused, letting his Haki flow through his body like he had seen Rayleigh do in Sabaody. He grabbed the collar from around your neck and squeezed, snapping it in half, and threw it away from you. In the same motion, Luffy turned and glared at the Marine, who instantly crumpled to the ground, knocked out by Luffy’s Conqueror's Haki. 

“Luffy, we have to go,” Zoro’s voice was urgent. There was commotion above them coming from the deck. It was clear the Navy was alerted to their presence. But Luffy was ignoring him, desperately trying to shake you awake. 

“Come on, Luffy,” Zoro insisted, stepping over the rubble. He quickly cut each of the shackles off your legs.  “She’ll be fine. I’ll carry her, you punch things. Let's go.”

Zoro put a sword between his teeth and picked you up into his arms. He saw the darkness in Luffy’s eyes, and stood back to let his captain destroy the people who had tried to take you away from him. 

Luffy spared no ship. Once he saw Zoro and you were safe on the beach, he unleashed his full might against the ten ships in the harbor. His crew could hear his screams of rage from the shoreline, his pent up fear of losing you spilling out into his attacks. 

When he was finally finished destroying the ships, he came back to the shore and sat silently among his crew. He pulled your unconscious body into his lap, stroking your hair softly. He stared down at you for a long time, just watching the rise and fall of your chest, his eyesight fuzzy from tears. 

As the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, Nami finally spoke up. “We should go.” Her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were damp with tears. 

“Not until she wakes up.”

Sanji sighed, pulling out a few small rations of food to give the crew while they waited. Luffy didn’t eat, he just combed his fingers through your hair, willing you to wake up. 

Nightfall came, and you were still unconscious. The crew could see lights on the horizon. Marine ships that were supposed to lead you to Impel Down. 

“Luffy, we need to go,” Sanji insisted. Luffy refused to respond, his eyes only watching you. 

“She’ll be more comfortable on the ship, Luffy,” Chopper said, trying to coax the captain back to the Sunny. “She can sleep in a bed and we can monitor her more closely.”

“It’s better for her to be back on the ship,” Sanji agreed. “And we need to get moving.”

Luffy finally nodded, giving in to his crew's request. If it was better for you, then he wouldn’t be selfish. It was selfishness that got you in this position in the first place. If he hadn’t run off on his own, if he had just stayed with the group like Nami had told him too, this might’ve never happened.

He held you close to him and walked back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not speaking. When they got back to the ship, Luffy set you down in the infirmary and stood in the corner, letting Chopper take care of you.

“Let me know if anything changes in her status.” And with that, Chopper left the two of you alone in the infirmary. Luffy sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand and watching you sleep, waiting for you to come back to him. 

--

Before you open your eyes, you can hear the heart rate monitor beeping; you can feel the harsh light against the back of your eyelids. Beside you, you can hear soft, even breathing of someone who is sleeping. Luffy. You’d know the sound of his breathing anywhere. You feel relief wash over you, knowing you’re safe with your crew. 

The light is still too bright for your eyes, so your hand reaches out blindly, searching for Luffy. Your hand finds his head, and you pat him gently. You don’t intend to wake him, but he instantly stirs from his sleep. 

“Y/n?” His voice is groggy as his head lifts up. 

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes still closed. “Can you turn off the-”

His body crashes into you, cutting off your question, and you wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You can hear his broken sobs of relief fill the air. “I was so scared,” he sobbed into your shoulder. “You weren’t waking up.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say soothingly, trying to calm him down. You crack your eyes open a bit, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks to you, captain.”

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner. 

Word Count: 10k

__

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest. 

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack. 

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in. 

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse. 

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name. 

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n. 

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed. 

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins. 

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders. 

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow. 

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale. 

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie. 

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.   

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.” 

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing. 

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.” 

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious. 

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed. 

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.” 

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.” 

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy. 

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning. 

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before. 

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout. 

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed. 

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan. 

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud. 

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction. 

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away. 

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?” 

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas. 

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right. 

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.” 

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead. 

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work. 

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce. 

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic. 

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk. 

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered. 

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it. 

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence. 

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction. 

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.  

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n. 

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning. 

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.” 

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

 “We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable. 

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself. 

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo. 

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts. 

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen. 

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental. 

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own. 

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it. 

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.” 

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered. 

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief. 

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up. 

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes.. 

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs. 

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant. 

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over. 

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully. 

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him. 

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval. 

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?” 

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand. 

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work. 

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.” 

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now. 

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?” 

“Something you will like.” 

“I liked what you made-” 

“Good is not enough.” 

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue. 

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata. 

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors. 

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands. 

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head. 

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together. 

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.” 

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York. 

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.” 

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties. 

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar. 

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss. 

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker. 

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell. 

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room. 

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers. 

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail. 

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

 It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen. 

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department. 

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend. 

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?” 

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother. 

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked. 

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.” 

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her. 

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl. 

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common? 

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation. 

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs. 

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.” 

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking. 

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy. 

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?” 

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her. 

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded. 

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else. 

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good. 

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands. 

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear. 

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that. 

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space? 

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better. 

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him. 

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay. 

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.” 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them. 

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking. 

“What was your last book?” 

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit. 

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy. 

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards. 

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?” 

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes. 

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy. 

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started. 

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's. 

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly. 

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time. 

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me."  I love you, y/n. 

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment. 

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this. 

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer. 

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world. 

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world. 

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating  warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.” 

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace. 

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open. 

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera. 

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.  

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom. 

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy. 

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time. 

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up. 

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight. 

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.  

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory. 

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up. 

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red. 

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid. 

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts. 

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too. 

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?” 

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her. 

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go. 

__

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again. 

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

[madnessr]

Last Night Part Two

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity 

Part One

Word Count: 10k

There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!

Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!

If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla. 

You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin. 

Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now? 

You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you. 

You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position? 

How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real. 

You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize. 

Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another. 

You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat. 

The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity. 

You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.  

But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home. 

Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?

Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest. 

So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to. 

You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick. 

However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home. 

You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean. 

The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone. 

"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you. 

"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic. 

"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.

 None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.  

Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places. 

Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him. 

“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone. 

Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you. 

David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds. 

"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair. 

"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again. 

All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial. 

"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well? 

Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut. 

David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him. 

"Who?" 

"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that. 

"Who did this to you?" 

The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them." 

That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling. 

You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways. 

"Are they still sleeping?" 

An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!" 

A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking. 

"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial. 

David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud. 

Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression. 

For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse. 

Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny. 

Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously. 

David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal. 

"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy. 

Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight. 

Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you." 

Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over." 

The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound. 

As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down. 

"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal." 

You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber. 

Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others. 

Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan. 

Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it. 

When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed. 

You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors. 

"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion. 

"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby." 

"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two. 

The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it." 

You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you. 

"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow. 

"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood." 

As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress. 

"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you. 

"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do. 

But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed. 

Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains. 

You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed. 

"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you. 

Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone. 

"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises. 

"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood. 

"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes. 

"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David." 

You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you. 

"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious. 

As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin. 

You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust. 

In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge. 

You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you. 

"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.

 "Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets. 

"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.

"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished. 

"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you. 

Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down. 

As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.

They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well. 

No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.

The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose. 

The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!" 

Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry. 

The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in. 

"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?" 

"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now." 

The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?" 

You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue. 

"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them." 

You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours. 

"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire." 

He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore." 

His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord." 

Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair. 

"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical. 

The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow. 

"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls. 

He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement. 

As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed. 

Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you. 

"So what will you do?" 

"What I need too." 

His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again. 

"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong. 

"What I was born to do." 

His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake. 

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight. 

That blow was meant to kill you. 

"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls. 

"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.

The boys. 

David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you. 

"You will never—be one of God's—creations." 

Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves. 

The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours. 

You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you. 

You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood. 

Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close. 

"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night. 

That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer. 

That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge. 

"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk. 

"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange. 

"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant. 

"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too." 

You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.  

"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead. 

"What?" 

He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest. 

"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you. 

"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you? 

"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth. 

"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves? 

"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you. 

"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past. 

"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N." 

"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man. 

"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why? 

"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?" 

"We aren't animals, David–"

"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before. 

"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too." 

A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.

"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing. 

"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."

"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore." 

He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you. 

"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more. 

When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse. 

"Hey, Darlin!"

The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.