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kianely · 9 months

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”LORD KNOWS, IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Leon saves you from the unlucky predicament you found yourself in when you decided to take a rewarding vacation overseas. He ends up liking you a little too much though, and not just in a platonic way. And naturally, you’re pretty love struck by him too.

iii. CONTENT — Mostly fluff, mentions of trauma (from what the reader saw while being rescued), mentions of Leon’s survival guilt, Leon’s smitten with you, fluff, tension and kissing at end, banter, he gives you a flip phone, work gathering, motorcycle ride, he finally gets a vacation, inaccurate depictions of the government, coercion to work for the government, RE4 Leon

iv. WC — 7.2k

You knew a lot. Too much. All because you decided to go abroad as a reward for finally getting a white-collar job. Your countless years spent in post-secondary education whilst having a part-time job paid off, and before you started your new job, you decided to indulge in a trip overseas.

You never expected to get lost during one of the tours, much less to find yourself stumbling across what seemed to be a ghost town that had a few…peculiar citizens. They told you to get lost when you asked for directions, and the one time you found a map plastered on a wall, it was an outdated one that didn’t even show the modern roads, no use in that.

That’s what led to your current situation. Somehow, you were lucky enough to make it out of there with the help of a particular someone. You never expected to board a helicopter in your life, you felt your stomach churn as you glanced out the window and reflected on what you had just been through.

All the thoughts revolving in that mind of yours were the freakish events and sights you had been an unwilling witness to. Ones that would undoubtedly throw you right into therapy, and have you tossing and turning in your bed at night like a scared child with a night light thinking a monster would seep out from their closet or underneath their bed. You would never set foot into a movie theater to watch a well-done horror movie ever again, all the things you had seen in the last couple of days topped all of that.

You wished you could wash and reset your eyes after all the mutated and downright monstrous creatures that flashed through your brain now and again. Hell, you now believed that every single urban myth or legend was a complete possibility, probably lurking out there somewhere. Every moving object just made your heart drop like from when limbs had reached out to try and grab or swing at you. You wanted to curl up into a little ball and be cradled by a parental figure, to be coddled and rocked back and forth until you fell asleep with no worries on your mind.

The murky fluids carried by the bodies of water in underground tunnels that were potent with diseases and infections were the same ones that had dried up on your once damp and soaked pants. You were damn lucky you hadn’t gotten an open wound anywhere under your upper thighs, how horrible would it be for you to escape and end up dying a day later from an infection?

The heavy gunfire and explosives left your ears physically hurting, you hoped the lingering buzzing noise would eventually leave. The only soothing sound you would hear throughout your utterly traumatic experience was the voice of a certain strong agent urging you to “hurry up” and “stay close behind him.” The same one that reassured you and checked up on you whenever the two of you got a chance to relax and take a breath, he would look you in the eyes and tell you that it was all going to be okay. And you believed him.

“You doing alright?” Ah, there was that familiar voice.

Your internal response? Absolutely not. But then again, you didn’t have the heart to tell the source of the question the truth. After all, Leon had been protecting you and had even taught you the basics of self-defense and combat moves for extra measure. All out of his own generosity, too. You had picked up on why he was sent to the site. You weren’t a priority to his job, not at all. Yet, he had gone through hell just to make sure you got out alive.

So, you resorted to masking your response with some sarcasm, by now, you knew he’d appreciate it. It felt like you had known him forever. “Peachy. I don’t think I’ve ever been better, you?”

You were still in denial, accepting everything would be too hard right now and you’d crumble on the spot. You were trying to think of anything else: your first meal after all this, maybe you’d need to buy new clothes now so a fun shopping trip was in order, Leon’s perfect face — no, not that.

Leon scoffed — the corner of his lips tugged up in response to your sarcasm. “It’s okay to tell the truth, y’know. You went through a hell of a lot more than you should’ve had to. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m fine,” you insisted, slumping against your seat and scratching the nape of your neck. Your mind was all over the place, you wouldn’t even be able to articulate all your worries without stumbling over your words. “I made it out without any major injuries, thanks to you.”

The only injury you had gotten were some cuts on the palms of your hands from all the times you had toppled down onto the earthy ground or wooden floors and had to use your hands to catch yourself and dodge…whatever the hell was chasing after you. The damn bastard didn’t even have a name. Your back wasn’t doing so well either, you definitely wouldn’t be able to reach your toes or stretch properly for a good while.

Leon sighed at your stubbornness, finding himself in you, he understood you better than most people could. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me for that. You did good and made it out alive. Plus…you did well at defending yourself, that leg strength of yours is no joke.”

His dazzling toothy smile stirred butterflies in your stomach. It felt genuine, a far cry from the close-mouthed smiles he had cast your way before. You wondered how he could muster up such a smile with that job of his.

You couldn’t offer anything more than an appreciative smile of your own as you looked down towards your lap, murmuring a small, “Guess so.” His praise made you feel a little light-headed, or maybe it was the gentleness within his gaze that had that effect.

He would’ve liked to hear those same words he just told you back during the incident of 1998, maybe even a small pat on the back accompanied by a “you did well, rookie.”

His missions involved so many casualties that it pained him, he had never grown desensitized to it despite his long years in the field. He’s too human for that, the angel perked on his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to be numb to it.

But you.

He managed to save you. And that was a couple fewer pounds that could’ve been slumped onto his shoulders — the ones that threatened to snap and give out on him from the years of massive and overwhelming guilt of everyone he had watched die. It didn’t matter that the two of you were essentially strangers, it would’ve crushed him if you had died on his watch. Through the short time you guys had been together, he had learned a lot about you.

Plus, he liked you. Romantically, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the meek and weak type. No. He liked mature people, those who could challenge his witty banter, who wouldn’t be clingy, and who could understand his baggage. You. You had spunk, the same kind he found himself yearning for in a companion when he went back to an empty home. He was fond of you, it made him wonder if he would be able to have you in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, whatever God was out there would grant him some mercy and give him what he wanted for once.

The helicopter had landed, and your leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiousness. Where the hell were you even at? You had nothing, not an ounce of technology or identification on you aside from your DNA and fingerprints.

Leon was feeling tense too, not for the unknowns but because he knew. He’d been forced to kiss the government’s ass and he was familiar with their way of thinking, they’d likely interrogate you, and if you had some use for them then they’d find a way to keep you around. He felt some solace in knowing that you didn’t display the same physical capabilities that he did, otherwise, they would snatch you up, train you into a machine, and send you out into the field in a couple of years if you made the cut.

Leon was the first to get out of the helicopter, extending his arm and offering his hand to help you. He knew you were feeling uneasy, he didn’t plan on leaving you alone to your thoughts. “Was this your first time on a helicopter?”

“Yeah, first time.” You gladly accepted his assistance, feeling the calluses on his skin as you cautiously got out. “Not how I imagined it to be like, but…”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you took it like a champ, no motion sickness or anything.”

“You must be used to flying all the time, right?”

Leon nodded, letting out a sigh before sharing his thoughts on the topic. He figured some honesty could go a long way. “I’m actually kind of sick of flying — planes, helicopters, everything. But if I ever get a vacation? I’m leaving behind a cloud of dust and making a beeline for Italy.”

“Italy, huh?” You made a mental note of that, for future reference. You just hoped there would be a way to keep in contact with him after everything was said and done.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go. Never have the time though.”

There was only so much conversation that could be held until you curiously took a look at your surroundings. You took a breath, feeling a bit daunted by some of the important-looking personnel whose eyes were boring into you.

“This place looks…pretty intimidating.”

Leon’s hand hovered over the small of your back so he could keep you close and guide you inside. “You’ll be okay.”

After that, the two of you pretty much got separated. He had to give a full report about the mission, and also explain how he had strung you along. The higher-ups had to run a background check on you and were going to monitor you. But he made you a promise, he’d come to see you when he was allowed to.

Leon always told himself he’d start minding his own damn business. You were well and alive, that should be more than enough for him. He didn’t deserve to indulge in someone who could make his life brighter, that was selfish. But, he so desperately wanted to have you in his life.

Whenever he got attached to someone, it all went south. But, he knew you were alone. He’d been in your situation — alone and with unimaginable baggage, a deadly mix. He needed to do something.

On the other hand, you were taken into questioning about what you had seen, and how the state of the town you had been visiting before everything went to shit. You hated having to talk about it, stammering over your words, and taking long pauses because it was too much. Broke down sobbing after one session. The denial phase progressively diminished, it was painful. They then transferred you to a more isolated area to monitor your physical health. They didn’t give a damn about your actual well-being, even if you had been injured they wouldn’t have tended to you.

You lost track of time, a couple of weeks had gone by.

You were a pitiful sight, all alone in a room with high-quality technology surrounding you — machines monitoring you just in case anything irregular popped up in your health that was connected to the bioweapons you had been exposed to.

But alas, the day finally came, and you could leave. You relished the clean clothes they gave you in place of the gown you had been required to wear for the monitoring. You sat on the twin-sized bed, gaze cast to the floor as you thought about what the future held.

Some gentle knocks on the door made you jump a little, your eyes immediately darting over to see who it was through the glass on the door. Leon. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked concerned, the knit of his brows made that clear.

Mustering up a small and weak smile, you beckoned him to come in. If there was one person that could bring you some solace, it was him. He would’ve come sooner, hell, he would’ve visited you every damn day you were stuck here. But he wasn’t allowed to under strict orders, not until the day you were to be released.

Leon entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bag of takeout in his free hand, holding it up for you to see. “The food here is pretty bland, figured you could use this.”

The sight almost made you groan, anything sounded more appetizing than the soup and packaged food you had been given the past few weeks. “God. Yes. Please.”

He chuckled at your reaction, setting the medium sized drink by your bedside before sitting down next to you. He opened up the bag and then handed you the plastic utensils, napkins, and the container.

“I’m glad you came, I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Leon knew how deafening the silence could be, nothing good came out of being left to your thoughts.

“I owe you a meal someday,” you told him as you began eating. “You have to pick though, I don’t know any of the restaurants around here.”

“I’ll be sure to make a list then. I’m paying though.”

“What? That’s hardly fair.”

“Shh, eat your food.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something under your breath, but you knew he meant well based on the lightheartedness of his voice. So, you complied.

Meanwhile, Leon was mentally brainstorming places he thinks you would like in the area — somewhere pretty, he wanted you to have a good time.

After you had finished, Leon let out a sigh and pulled something out of his pocket. A flip phone. He gave it to you. He wordlessly handed it to you.

Woah. What?

You cast him a curious glance before reaching out for it. “Uh, what’s this?” You knew what it was, but why?

“Well, your phone broke.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I saved my number on it already, so just give me a call if you ever need anything.”

Could a man be more perfect? A flip phone was simple, easy to call and all. He knew that you’d likely get an actual smartphone in a couple of days, but he was worried. He just wanted you to be able to contact him whenever and wherever.

You laughed a little, taking a minute to toy around with the buttons on the flip phone. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much, they’re pretty cheap these days.”

With the topic of technology brought up, you had the chance to ask something you had been mulling over. “So, how come I’ve never seen you on the news before? You’re like a knight or something.”

Leon was mildly amused by the sudden inquiry, humming softly to himself as he stirred up a response.

“Well, I’m not too sure people would believe a headline about half of the things I deal with. It’s pretty much kept undercover.” There was a lot more to it than that, but he kept it simple. “Plus, I’m just doing my job — it’s no biggie.”

“Bummer,” you sighed out, “you’d have tons of fans.” It wasn’t even a stretch. A man as attractive and heroic as him? With the size of his biceps? He’d be trending every other week, and some portion of the population would definitely have posters of him. A bit unfitting considering the contents of his job, but not unlikely.

“Would I? Why’s that?” The concept was foreign to him. Sure, he’d gotten compliments on his looks, but that was about it…nobody actively tried to pursue him. And the couple of times he had tried to ask someone on a dinner date, he got a no. He wasn’t insecure about it, though — the only people he had tried to ask out were people in his line of work, all the baggage made relationships and dating tricky.

His question caught you off guard, you knew the answer but you couldn’t say it out loud. “Well…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze before immediately darting your eyes away. “You know, just…”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His voice was one of humor, spoken through a chuckle — he wanted to know.

You let out a long exhale before recomposing yourself. “You look like you could be the heartthrob of the decade. And your personality isn’t half bad either.”

He was quiet for a moment. Now it was his turn to look away, attention now on his hands as he pretended to pick at some of the calluses. Eventually, he voiced his next question. “Would you be one of my fans?”

You snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah. With pom poms and all, maybe I’d even come up with a cheer or something.”

His lips tugged into a small smirk at that, one that was barely visible — he really liked you. “I’d be sure to take a picture to make it last longer.”

“You wish.”

“A guy can dream.”

The government could have very well sent you on your way out into the world when you essentially had absolutely nothing. But, you had some close ones back in your hometown, so, if you just suddenly vanished and your family panicked when they thought you were returning from a vacation…then that would make some things more difficult. The mystery of how you ended up in DC without any of your belongings would be concerning.

Plus, they looked into your file backgrounds. Intelligent, you had the brains, and now the knowledge of bioweapons. Surely, there’d be good use in keeping you around. Possible training to become a field operations support was in your future. They could kill two birds with one stone: gain another worker, and keep you close to the headquarters just in case you tried to expose what you had seen.

It was easy for them to do through blackmail and threats to hurt your loved ones if you didn’t comply with their orders of living in DC. They made you record some bullshit lie to your family as to why you were here.

They printed out all your personal documents that you had lost so you could get a job nearby and get back on your feet, helped get your credit card replaced, and that was it. Any physical cash you had was gone, but at the very least you did have enough money in your bank account to crash at a motel while you sorted things out.

Bastards, really. Yeah, at least you had necessities now, but it was purely for their own benefit.

The prices for even renting a place in DC were just… jaw-dropping. You’d have to search for a small place, and honestly, a car was the last thing on your mind. Having a roof over your head was the most important part. The good news is that with your resume and educational background, you bagged a job fairly soon — though it was nothing compared to the job you were supposed to have.

It had been months since the whole fiasco. You managed to find a small apartment, nothing fancy of course. That was for the better, having a spacious place all to yourself would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You were still very jittery: jumping whenever there was a knock on your door even when you were anticipating a delivery, needing the television on just for the sake of not being left in silence with your thoughts, and sleeping with all the lights on even if your electricity bill suffered as a result.

You thought you would be able to muster up the courage to go to therapy, but would that even be possible? It’s not like you could truthfully talk about your experiences. Even if you did, there’s no way anyone would believe you. And again, it was too much money.

By now, you had gotten a smartphone. But you never discarded the flip phone that Leon had gifted you. You used it to give him a call on a couple of occasions, but you never kept him for over five minutes, not wanting to disturb him for too long, you knew he was busy. Sometimes he didn’t pick up, but after a couple of days, he would return the call and tell you what had kept him from doing so: another assignment, long meetings, all that jazz. Even so, those calls always left you smiling for hours afterward.

Unbeknownst to you, the man on the other side of the phone was equally as thrilled. His pearly whites were always on display whenever you called him. Whenever he got back from work, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails. No matter how battered and sore his body was, your voice alone managed to make him feel all better.

The days blended in together, and oftentimes you found yourself asking what or who was your motivation to keep up with this routine. The only answer that immediately came to mind aside from your loved ones was him. Leon.

Washing the dishes? Hm, you wonder what kind of food Leon eats. Watching TV? Leon mentioned he liked watching movies when he had free time. Struggling with opening a stubborn jar? Leon could definitely open this. Typing a text message? Would Leon use emojis? Abbreviations? Maybe he was one of those people who texted slow as hell and only used their index finger for each individual letter. You should know by now, but the two of you only ever called, and never texted.

The point is, he was flooding your thoughts.

In your mind, you justified it by thinking the only reason you wanted him in your life was to repay him for all the help he had been. But, that was far from the truth. Not when the memory of him flashing you a smile was enough to make your heart do tiny flips or the way his voice was so deeply engraved in your brain that you longed to hear it all the time. And the way you started spending more time on your appearance, just in case you happened to bump into him somewhere — slim chances, but you’d take them.

And naturally, you knew you would feel safe and content with him keeping you company. What you would give to roll your eyes and scoff at one of his puns or lame movie references, or to maybe catch the glimmer of endearment in his gaze whenever it shifted to you.

Would you ever be able to love a man who didn’t understand what you had gone through to a degree?

The sensation of your smartphone suddenly vibrating in your pocket made you flinch and snap out of your thoughts — a frown tugging on your lips as you scrambled to pull it out and answer.

Oh boy, your time at the headquarters wasn't short-lived. And that job of yours? You’d have to resign soon. Seems like the plan to train you to become a field operations support was coming up. Your presence had been requested at a work gathering, collaboration and teamwork skills were essential. So with this event, trainees and recruits could converse with those who were more experienced, to break the ice a little bit. So you convinced yourself you had to go.

Here you were a week later — sitting inside a fancy looking room, moving your now empty cup around. You had been here for thirty minutes and you weren’t sure how much more small talk you could handle. If you were asked the question, ‘So, how’d you land this position?’ one more time, you’d feel physically ill.

Getting ready for the gathering had driven you insane, you took an entire two hours to get ready, mostly because you kept pacing in front of your closet, indecisive about what to wear. Assuming Leon was going to be there, this would be his first time seeing you in actual clothing that aligned with your fashion style, enough said.

You stood up, ready to go outside for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air from this otherwise suffocating environment. But as you looked towards the door, a certain man caught your attention.

There he was. Leon Kennedy in all his glory. When was the last time you saw him in person? A few months. So, why did it feel like you were seeing him for the first time again? You were blown away by his beauty.

He was talking to a taller man who was pretty hunky and had the body of an agent. You assumed they were good buds, seeing the way they patted each other and seemed to be having an interesting conversation rather than a forced one.

You had no idea how long you stood there, but it felt like only a couple of seconds since you were busy admiring him. Maybe he felt your eyes on him, because he eventually looked over directly at you and then dismissed himself from his friend.

Leon almost looked like a puppy as he made his way over to you, his eye-lit gaze set on you despite the plethora of other people he knew in the room. With a couple excuse me’s, he finally reached you.

You had a lot of time to think of a way to greet him, and yet your mind turned to mush the second he was near you. A simple hi, hey, what’s up? No, that wouldn’t suffice. It would feel forced.

“No offense, but this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.” You eventually told him, a sly smile forming on your face.

He placed a hand over his chest and scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Like a dagger to my heart.” After a shared chuckle between the two of you, he gave you a genuine answer. “It’s nice sometimes, gives me a chance to catch up with some people and nurse a drink. But generally? No, not really my scene.”

Before you could say anything in response, he gestured towards you with his hand. “You look stunning.”

“I’d hope so. Though, I think anything is a step up from what I was wearing when you met me.”

“Oh c’mon. You pulled off the look.”

How? He had witnessed you wearing dirty and muddy clothes with scrapes all over. You had definitely not been in the most presentable state. Though to be fair, he had been in the same boat — he did all the combat, so he ended up with ruined clothes and blood all over. Then again, his pretty face and killer body blinded you from those details.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just that charming,” You tried to come across as confident, but the giddy grin on your face in response to his compliment gave away just how much his words affected you.

Cute. Did he make you happy? Years of unsuccessful romance led him to believe that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a natural response to being complimented. But…there was a hopeful voice in his head that said otherwise. No no no, he was being silly. He saved you, he shouldn’t even be thinking about asking you to dinner. Shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look sitting across the table from him, with a glass of champagne in your hand and that perfect smile plastered on your face from the conversation at hand. He wanted to know you. And he knew he was a goner when he woke up one morning upset because he felt like something was missing — you in his arms, curled up against him.

“So, you’re a trainee now?” Leon knew you were going to be here, it was the reason he had unconsciously put more effort into his appearance.

“Yeah, it’s surreal to think about…it sounds stressful.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault. Things could be worse, I’m just glad I’m back on my feet.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Mhm. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to talk to you over your earpiece one day.”

Leon almost froze at that. The thought was appealing. Maybe he should feel selfish for thinking of this in a positive manner when the government had been responsible for the switch up in your life. Even so, he knew that his spirit would be boosted if he heard your voice giving him intel and instructions. Plus, how come you didn’t seem so upset over that?

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of my voice after all those voicemails I’ve left you.”

Ah, the same ones he replayed over and over when he couldn’t sleep. The same ones that managed to keep his post-mission loneliness at bay. The same ones that prevented him from getting a bottle of beer from his fridge and spiraling.

“I could never.” The nearly whispered answer gave away just how sincere he was. Not a quip, not even a tug of his lips.

It made your breath hitch, those three words made you melt like an ice cream left out on a hot summer day. How was it that everything blurred out except for him? The nearby chit-chatter, the blur of people moving around in the background, the clinking of plates and glasses — nothing mattered, nothing took your attention from him.

“You sound pretty confident in your answer.”

“I am.”

“How come?”

Would it scare you if he chose to be sincere? “It’s just nice hearing your voice, y’know, I don’t get many phone calls.”

No, he had to give you more, that sounded too casual. “And uh, they help me…make me feel like I’m not completely alone or lost in this world.”

“I’ll be sure to keep calling you, then.” You were being honest.

He became aware of the semi awkward conversation he had caused, Leon cleared his throat and gestured to the table with drinks. “Shall we?”

Mostly everyone had left after two hours, the only vehicle left in the parking lot was Leon’s bike. You got here through public transportation, you really had to get a car eventually. But, it was hard with your financial situation.

You let out a low whistle when you caught sight of his bike, it suited him, honestly. He took good care of it. “Sweet ride.”

It was his pride and joy, one of his only belongings that gave him a thrill and an escape. And he really wouldn’t mind letting you into that part of his life.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He could give you a ride if you were willing. He kept two helmets anyway, an older one just for nostalgia, and then a newer one. “Ever ridden one?”

“No way,” you laugh, you’re intrigued though. You meet his gaze and see that he’s smiling — and you manage to piece together what he’s offering. “No way.” You repeat incredulously as if asking: Seriously!? You’d let me?

“Way.”

He walked over to his bike and patted one of the helmets. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“What if I fall off?”

“I won’t let you fall off.”

Oh, what the hell? After all Leon has done for you, you trusted him with your life. You approached him, catching onto the subtle flame in his eyes. “Fine, I’m up for it.”

He knew the nearby layout of the area pretty well, so when you told him your address, he knew what route to take.

“Hold still.” Lifting the helmet, he made sure to put it snugly onto you, buckling the chin strap so it wouldn’t fly off or be loose. It made you feel some kind of way. He was so close. If you didn’t have the helmet as a barrier, you’d be tempted to kiss him.

He took a step back to look at you, unable to resist from mumbling out a small ‘cute’ under his breath. Somehow, you hadn’t heard.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. Why did his voice sound raspy all of a sudden? Leon then worked on putting a helmet on himself. Your throat felt dry as you idly stood by and watched, he always looked good…but the sight of him with a helmet on was something you could get used to. With his handsome face now hidden, your attention was drawn more to his body, you tried to not stare at the way his shirt fit tightly against his muscles. Then you realized your eyes weren’t all that visible due to the helmet and dark night. So…you stared.

He taught you how to mount and dismount the bike, he prefers to get on first and for passengers to get on afterward, and for you to dismount the bike before he did. Naturally, he also went over some of the rules for passengers, when to lean, to be cautious of stops, etc. He just wanted both of you to be on the same page. With some trial, error, and a couple of laughs over it, you eventually managed to get the hang of it. So here you were now, all ready to go.

“Hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to fall off or anything.” By now, he knows you’re used to his joking.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the sliver of amusement that slipped into your voice. “Very reassuring, Kennedy.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, you could feel all the muscle he had gained throughout his years of nonstop physical activity.

Leon was smiling underneath his helmet, feeling your body warmth against him. He never really thought he’d be able to have someone else on his motorcycle, especially not someone he had grown to adore so much. The feeling of your arms around him put his heart at ease. “Okay, here goes. Remember, if anything happens just tap me twice.”

At first, it was pretty steady — merely navigating out of the parking space and into the streets, stopping at some red lights, getting a kick out of the way Leon purposely revved the engine for you to hear, and the way you could feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed. It was a soothing pattern, one you’d like to feel more often, perhaps with your head resting comfortably against his stomach.

Entering the ramp to the freeway was an entirely different experience, the breeze suddenly increased tenfold as Leon sped up now that the speed limit was higher.

It felt exhilarating — a stark contrast to how you had felt when you were cooped up all alone in your apartment with nothing but silence. The loud engine of the bike roaring through the freeway drowned out any doubts or worries before they even had the chance to surface to your consciousness. It was so fast that the lights of the cars almost turned into a blur, but the nighttime made it seem so pretty. It felt good.

Honestly, it felt like you were there for hours when that was far from the true reality of a short five minute ride, your heartbeat slowed back down along with the speed of the bike as Leon cautiously drove in the lonely and dimly lit streets of your neighborhood, relying on your input to reach the specific building that had your apartment in it.

Once he finally parked, you got the chance to exhale properly — having been so caught up in the pretty night scenery and the fact you had just gotten a ride from none other than Leon S. Kennedy. You were reluctant to unwrap yourself from him but did so anyway. “Woah,” was all you could say.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Much better than the bus I take, that’s for sure. Life changing.”

With the short lessons you had gone over, you managed to dismount his bike, maybe checking him out a little as he then followed to do the same. He took his gloves off before making his way to you and working on taking your helmet off. The entirety of the situation felt oddly intimate, like a daily interaction a couple would partake in.

“You have a lot of trust in me,” he muttered that comment under his breath as if it was meant for the breeze to sweep away like a leaf. But you heard it anyway.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the guy who quite literally saved my life.”

He merely chuckled, now taking off his helmet. Leon didn’t want to delve into that topic. In his mind, he didn’t necessarily ‘save’ you, he didn’t want to take credit for your own mental and physical strength. The way you were so happy despite everything that had occurred…he admired you for it. He didn’t want you to spiral into the same loneliness and self-guilt that he had, he swore he wouldn’t let you. God, how he wishes he had met you sooner. Late was better than never, though.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” Dork. He didn’t even know which door was yours. It was sweet though, you led the way inside and up an elevator to your floor. Leon committed the way to memory, just in case he ever swung by in the future. He took a look around, making sure everything looked clean and safe, just a habit of his after his years in the force. It looked pretty cozy though, the halls were illuminated well, and everything was in great condition. Some of his worries were eased.

“Thanks for the ride, I had a lot of fun.” Honestly, you had a lot of things you could thank him for, but that would take you more than just a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to keep him since you knew he had to get home too. Internally, you hoped maybe the two of you could meet up — you liked being in his presence.

He brushed it off with a brief wave of his hand, “No worries.” He didn’t feel like you needed to thank him for anything. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched you open up your door. It was too soon. He didn’t even hide the fact he was staring at you, you turned around back around to face him, ready to say bye, and awkwardly get inside.

This was his cue to leave. In any other situation, he’d say, ‘I’ll see ya around’. But he hesitated.

You felt like you were burning up under his pensive gaze, wanting to know what thoughts were occupying that mind of his. Whatever it was, he clearly had something to say. You felt your hopes lift. “Leon?”

The fact is, he had something to ask you. Some higher entity had listened to his pleas and he had gotten a week off, his godsent vacation was finally here.

Like he had mentioned to you once, he wasn’t a huge fan of planes. Vacation or not, he tried to avoid them, there was nothing more reliable than his gorgeous motorcycle. But, he made an exception, and maybe he’d feel more at ease with you on the plane with him. Truth be told, if you said no to his offer, he wouldn’t even go on a vacation abroad, he’d probably just stay at his place.

He was feeling a tad bit doubtful. He knew that your life had been flipped since you had gone abroad for a vacation, so maybe you’d say no. Regardless, he had to ask now. He could be given another assignment at a moment’s notice despite being granted a break, and your training was going to start in a while. He couldn’t afford to not make his feelings known, not with the kind of life he led.

“Hey, listen.” Leon broke the silence that he caused — taking a deep inhale before he continued to voice his thoughts. “I’ve been due for a vacation for a while, and I finally got some time off. I’m planning on taking a short trip.”

“Ah,” you remember a similar conversation, how could you not? You practically memorized every bit of information he told you. You closed your door and leaned against it, not wanting to seem like you were in some hurry to get in. “Italy, right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling over the fact that you remembered that detail. “So, here’s the thing. I bought two flight tickets and booked a room for two. If you’re not busy or anything and if it’s not crazy for you to consider then—“

“Yes,” you responded immediately, like it was pure instinct, the word slipped through your mouth before your mind even had time to process it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline you still felt from the ride.

He grinned, letting out a huff of amusement. “I didn’t even finish—“

He cut himself off when he felt you cup his face with your hands, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin — like warm and cozy laundry straight out of the drying machine. His Adams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed thickly, feeling the tension rise when your lips inched towards his.

You were taking the opportunity, afraid it would slip from your fingers like sand if you hesitated for even a second.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes searched his. After a few seconds of keeping his arms by his side, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, coaxing you closer to him.

Leon felt weak to the knees, crumbling at the eye contact before his eyes flitted towards your lips longingly. Closer. He could feel your lips brushing against his, not a kiss just yet, but the contact was there and served as a complete tease.

“Okay,” he murmured out, warm breath fanning against your lips. He tried to keep his voice stable, but the close proximity was killing him. His hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “Consider a first-class window seat all yours then.”

“With gourmet meals and all?”

“Mhm,” he couldn’t think—he parted his lips in anticipation for yours. His gaze returned to your eyes, his own were half-lidded, looking like they might shut at any minute in preparation for the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t like being in planes?”

“I don’t,” he replied briefly, this felt like torture. His voice was low and rugged, eyes now closing and head tilting to the side slightly. “But with you by my side, it wouldn’t matter.”

God, he was perfect. You pressed your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands snaked up to gently hold the back of your head and keep you in place. He felt an influx of dopamine hit him right away, losing himself in your suave kiss — he was hooked on your taste, it felt like a drug. Like he’d go through withdrawals if he ever had to go without this sensation again.

One of your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling around the ends of his hair. It was soft, feeling like silk. Your nails brushed against his skin on the nape of his neck and he shuddered, feeling the remaining air in his lungs vanish. He could keep going though, he’d drown in your kisses and suffocate by the sweet taste and press of your lips without a single complaint.

If love was possible just by a single kiss, then Leon had just gotten struck by an arrow. It continued, kiss after kiss. It felt right. The final piece to a puzzle — the perfect fit.

Not having a death wish, you eventually pulled back for breath. His lips chased yours, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, only pausing when he heard your soft laughter, one that made his heart leap and his eyes open to meet your own. He pressed his forehead against yours, a smile ghosting his lips as he took the moment in. “We’re uh, pretty good at that.”

“Mm, I dunno.” You shrugged out, running your thumb against his bottom lip. “I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?”

It was a clear ploy to continue on with the kissing. He took the bait with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m game. Just do a countdown and I’m ready whenever.”

“Someone’s eager, here goes. One, two, three…”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil one shot #re4 x reader

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part v: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 18k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamic plus explicit violence, threatening behaviour, mentions of homophobia, implied suicidal ideation, and explicit sexual content.

Jisung sighs with agonizing sorrow as he turns his baseball cap around. He tugs the brim low then steeples his hands on the desk.

“I see,” he says grimly. “I understand. You found paradise in Hyunjin. You had a good friendship, it made a good romance. So you didn’t need a friend like me. Now you come to me and say, ‘Han Jisung, come bowling with me and my evil boyfriend.’ But you don’t ask with respect. You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to go bowling—”

“We’re in earth science right now,” Felix says, bemused.

“He’s quoting a movie,” you say.

“Ah.”

“And for the last time, Hyunjin is not my boyfriend,” you say. “We’re just… hanging out.”

Your second ‘date’ with Hyunjin was once more a family affair as your father invited him and his parents to the mansion for lunch. It was professionally catered because your father does nothing by halves, so at least the food was good. You and Hyunjin were mostly silent in the company of your parents, but you were allowed to walk around the yard by yourselves after.

He looked good because he always looks good, in a fuzzy purple sweater and name-brand jeans. His charisma was dwindled to nothing, though. He kept his fists curled up in the sleeves of his sweater and smiled a lot of forced smiles. His parents’ presence clearly does a number on his mentality. He did unwind somewhat when you were finally alone, but it was hard to shake the feeling of observation, their eyes stalking your every step like animals in a zoo.

“Maybe we should just have sex on the ground here,” you said dryly. “See if that satisfies them.”

He burst out laughing at that, an endearingly wheezy sound that made you giggle too.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “When you make jokes like that I remember you and Han Jisung really are best friends.”

“Guilty,” you said with a snort. “Stupid jokes is what is friendship is all about.”

He smiled at the subject of friendship. His expression was full of so much warmth, very contrary to his polite but cold countenance during lunch when he only flirted appropriately.

You like Hyunjin as a friend and you think he might feel the same way, hence the reservation on both your parts to truly commit to this farce of a relationship. It feels wrong to use him to keep your father happy.

You caught his eye this morning in the school corridor, sharing a smile as you crossed paths. Even though a true relationship has not been defined, you told him you wanted to tell Jisung before you started hanging out at school.

You made the mistake of saying this within earshot of Hyunjin’s parents. His father unfortunately overheard you, enquiring as to the identity of this Jisung.

“Just her little school friend,” your father said. “Nobody important.”

Jisung might be nobody important to your father but he is still your friend. And unlike your father, who merits the value of life on business calculations, the first question Jisung asks is, “Does he make you happy?”

Felix is scribbling in his notebook but lifts his head at that question. You cannot look at him directly because you know it will shatter your very careful mask.

“Hyunjin is actually really nice when you get to know him,” you say, because the best lie has a hint of truth in it. “And I really do like spending time with him. So… it would make me happy if you could be happy for me too.”

Jisung scrutinizes you, then glances at Felix who has gone back to scribbling in his notebook. Eventually Jisung smiles and spins his cap backwards.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Jisung says. He turns very dark and serious when he says, “But that pretty rich boy is paying for my nachos.”

You catch up to Hyunjin in the hallway. He laughs when you tell him Jisung’s stipulation.

“I think I can afford it,” he jokes, then quirks an eyebrow. “Jisung… He doesn’t know about your dad, does he?”

“Only a bit,” you say, thinking back to the countless times you abstractly complained about your father to him. “I mean, he knows he’s strict but he doesn’t know why. I complain about some stuff but… I don’t really go into detail.” Truth be told, you like that your friendship with Jisung is so far removed from your home life. He has nothing to do with your father or your wealth or your abuse. He likes you for you and that has always been the case.

“What about Felix?” Hyunjin asks. He nods behind you because Felix is never too far away. He is blending in as inconspicuously as he can, pretending to read notices on a bulletin board.

“What about him?” you say, heat creeping up your neck. You hope you appear casual.

“How close are you?” Hyunjin asks, his casual tone coloured with a hint of suggestion, like he already knows the answer.

You suppose anyone might assume Felix has a crush on you seeing as he is never far from your side. There is little explanation that a civilian could glean other than Felix being clingy or lovesick. No one would guess it is his job to trail after you.

But the suggestion is difficult to rebuke because your true feelings get all twisted up inside you. You and Felix do like each other – too much for your own goods. Though there has not been a reprise of the other morning, in fact you have not mentioned it once, there is a new electricity in all of your touches. That exchange did not satisfy or quell any desires, in fact it seemed to accomplish the opposite. When you wake in the morning to him so close, your heart turns into a thunderstorm and it sends sparks flying through every inch of your body.

You want him more than ever. You also hope you never get him or you will never find the resolve to let go.

“He’s just my—” You cannot force the word friend. “He’s just Felix,” you say. “He drives me crazy, to be honest.” That much is true.

Hyunjin’s brow furrows. He looks at Felix then turns your body so he is blocking you from sight. He leans in close to speak.

“He isn’t bothering you, is he?” Hyunjin asks. “Because if he is—”

A sharp laugh jumps out of you. The offer of protection is unexpected and unintentionally amusing. You have seen Felix in the midst of his training, his body a well-honed instrument that he knows and controls with utmost precision. Hyunjin uses his body in a different way, playing to his strengths with his showmanship, but he would be no match in confrontation.

Not that he knows it. His offer is very sincere.

You gaze at him, studying his kind but determined face. You remember how Hyunjin was expelled from his old school for fighting with another boy, supposedly over a girl. You read the report yourself and you recall how the other boy was badly pulverized. It is hard to picture Hyunjin doing something like that, but you know how violence often lurks in unassuming places.

“Thank you,” you say. “But it’s fine. Really.”

You guide the conversation back to bowling and it distracts him well enough.

At least you were allowed to plan this date. Your father essentially ordered you to go on a solo date with Hyunjin, except you could not be truly alone because Felix had to be there. When you questioned the logistics of that, your father said to work it out, that he would heed Felix’s discretion on the matter.

Fortunately, even with things tense between you, Felix does take your opinion into consideration. He agreed when you suggested a casual venue where you could hang out with Hyunjin and better acquaint him with your friends.

You are still not sure how long this charade is meant to continue, but for now you try to enjoy having another friend. This turns into a daunting task. Your social skills are lacklustre to say the least and attempting to befriend Hyunjin’s huge circle of friends proves perilously overwhelming. Fortunately, Hyunjin doesn’t take offense when you bail early at lunch to sit with Jisung instead. Hyunjin has a lot of friends but none with whom he is especially close.

“Having a best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” you joke, watching Jisung bowl by swinging the ball two-handedly between his legs. You slouch in your seat as if embarrassed by him, shaking your head while Hyunjin laughs.

“He’s funny,” Hyunjin says.

“Then why do you antagonize him?” you ask, lightly but curiously.

“Because it’s fun,” he says with a smirk, making you laugh and Felix chuckle. “And easy.”

The three of you watch Jisung wail as his ball predictably rolls into the gutter.

“Fair enough,” you say.

You can tell Hyunjin has his guard up. It does not make him unkind but he is less personable even while he is more charismatic. You know that persona is in place to protect him, that Hyunjin wears happiness and charm the way you wear ire. Although they are contrary dispositions, both keep people at bay.

Jisung, being Jisung, manages to slip through the cracks of that guarded wall, much like he did you. You got to know Jisung slowly then all at once, empty moments passing between you until one day you realized he had long passed the guarded gate.

You are mulling this over when you spot him. You are so surprised that you choke on your soda and sputter the liquid painfully out of your nose. Your spontaneous violent hacking startles the boys, all of them jumping then fussing over you.

You are still coughing when Lee Minho approaches.

Hyunjin and Jisung do not see him at first, too pre-occupied with wiping your shirt and asking if you are okay. It is Felix who spots Minho next, realization dawning on his face before his expression sours. You have been seeking that reaction, looking for the vaguest hint of jealousy or at least acknowledgement. Felix does not seem very intimidated by Hyunjin, even when he flirts with you or touches you. He can probably tell your feelings are only friendly. But you did like Lee Minho once and he knows that.

Your heart skips beats when you and Felix look at each other. He has not been holding your gaze lately, quick to look away when you catch him staring. It sounds strange to say that you miss him when he is sleeping in your bed every night, but you ache with the loss of intimacy. He is the first person you see in the morning and the last face you see at night, but he has never felt farther away. Even your very first night together involved more genuine interaction.

If he truly did not want you, it would be easier. But when you do catch him staring, his eyes are intense, his gaze forever thoughtful. When he is not minding his actions, he naturally leans towards you just as you do him, orbiting planets around the light of your stars.

Jisung likes you as a friend, Hyunjin likes you as an ally, but Felix knows every part of you, the good and the bad, the normal and the crazy. When he touches you, he touches all of you, and you feel like a whole person, full of more life and possibility than you ever thought you could be. You told yourself not to rely on his touches and maybe you should have listened, maybe this withdrawal would not ache so terribly now, but you cannot bring yourself to fully regret it.

What you want is to reach across this table and hold his face, to bring it close to yours. Even if you don’t kiss, it would be enough to have him close, his breath on your lips and his freckled cheeks warm under your palms.

You will take what you can get, basking in the devoted attention of his gaze as your former crush approaches the table.

Minho comes up behind Hyunjin and smacks a hand onto his shoulder, startling him.

“I could hear you from the parking lot, Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho teases. “How many degrees was it again?”

When the rival popular boys were both at school, their interactions were minimal despite their reputations. Their few encounters were only jokingly hostile, one running gag revolving around Minho cooking Hyunjin in an air-fryer.

“One-hundred-eighty degrees,” Hyunjin completes the joke. He laughs with everyone else but he is blushing scarlet from the tips of his ears all down his neck.

It is strange. Hyunjin is a physical person, at least when performing. This is the same guy who made out with his girlfriend in a classroom. The same guy who got detention on his first day for skipping class to fool around with some girl. And yet his shoulder dips as if Minho’s hand is too heavy to bear, as if he is overwhelmed by the touch.

Hyunjin once remarked on your powers of observation. It is especially easy to read someone when their behaviour is similar to your own. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. The stilted proximity, the way they naturally lean towards each other, so heavily affected by the simplest touch on the shoulder.

How they absolutely cannot bring themselves to meet eyes.

Minho talks to your table, friendly enough, but it is obvious he has no idea who the rest of you are. He only knows Hyunjin, and he addresses Hyunjin directly, but he does not look at Hyunjin for more than a few seconds, and they do not look at each other at the same time.

Eventually, Minho squeezes the back of Hyunjin’s neck and Hyunjin curls up his fingers. Minho smiles and says his goodbyes, casual, friendly, sparing one final glance at Hyunjin that Hyunjin does not return. Hyunjin reaches for his glass and takes a drink while Minho leaves to join his own friends across the room.

You wonder if Felix registered any of it, but he is still frowning at Minho’s retreating back. You suppose he was watching you more than Hyunjin. Jisung is taking a picture of his abysmal bowling score.

You look at Hyunjin but he is smiling again. He offers to pay for dinner, swiftly diverting the conversation in that direction. Jisung goes with him to counter to order, leaving you and Felix alone.

Felix has gone back to feigned indifference, sipping from his soda as he stares at nothing particular.

“I need to be alone with Hyunjin for a bit,” you say. That quickly snaps his attention to you. “I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk,” Felix says, lifting an eyebrow. “Uhh, about what?”

“If it was your business, I wouldn’t need to be alone with him,” you say curtly. You are being intentionally antagonistic with that one, but you get a little thrill when it succeeds in piquing his interest. You suppose you have always resorted to bad behaviour for attention. Encouraged by the heat darkening his gaze, you flutter your eyelashes and drawl, “My daddy would get mad if you got in the way of us, you know.”

He laughs with disbelief. Stubborn as ever, he looks away, popping an elbow on the table and digging his fist into his temple.

“What?” you say with exaggerated innocence. “Wouldn’t he, Felix? Doesn’t he think I’m a bad girl who needs a good boy to fix her?”

He looks at you, just a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, but it gets you so hot that you momentarily forget your whole endeavour.

He drops his arm with a thump, smiling at you with all that performative saccharine sweetness. It is the smile he projects when he is convincing the world he is just sweet, innocent Lee Felix. Beanie, flannel, ripped jeans, just another guy, cute and unassuming.

He stands and swiftly turns on the heel of his foot, slapping a hand down on the back of your seat so you instinctively lean back. He follows you down, in your face when he speaks in that low, honeyed voice, “Hyunjin doesn’t have what it takes for that, sweetheart.”

Then he is back in his seat, arms crossed and back to ignoring you.

“I hate you,” is what naturally falls from your lips, no other word sufficing to summarize the sheer inundation of feelings.

The corner of his lips quirk up in a little grin.

He is the present bane of your existence, but Felix does oblige your request. At the end of the evening, he purposefully leads Jisung away with some empty distraction, holding conversation while watching you over his shoulder. He does not go far, but far enough to be out of ear-shot.

Hyunjin is bent down, changing his shoes, and it takes you a minute to muster the nerve to speak.

“Hyunjin,” you finally say, your voice coming out weaker than you intended.

Your tone is usually sharp so the unexpected softness has him tensing before he even lifts his head. When he does, it is with a dimpled smile, handsome and so polite.

You scrub a hand over your face, shaking your head, trying to think of something to say. You do not want to put him in an awkward spot, but you definitely do not want him walking into a worse situation because of ignorance.

“You… you weren’t expelled for fighting… were you?” you finally ask. “And you and Minho weren’t enemies.”

His expression caves, a sharp breath parting his lips. He stares at you for a long moment, flickering between a fake laugh, anger, fear, and finally resignation.

“How did you…” he starts, then laughs without any humour, dry and airy as he pushes his hair back. “You really are good at seeing people, huh.”

“I stand by what I told you at that party,” you say. “That I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide the best parts of yourself. But as your friend, I need you to understand… my father is a very, very dangerous man. He uses people. All the things that make you who you are… he will just categorize them statistically and work out how to use those things against you to benefit him.”

He covers his mouth and stares at the ground, looking contemplative. After some time, he drops his hand, and speaks in an unsteady voice that makes him seem very young. “I can handle it,” he says. “My father…” Another dry laugh. “I had a… friend… at my whole school. My father found us together. He tried to get him leave me alone but… stupid kid… he didn’t listen. So my dad hired this thug, I mean, I didn’t even know you could do that… He shook him up and we paid off the family and then he moved me here and he said… he said…” His voice trails off and you don’t think he will find it again.

“Image,” you say. “Expectation. Whatever.”

He huffs a breath, rolls his eyes, laughs again.

“Yes,” he says. “I thought it would be easy. He wasn’t asking me to change, just pretend. I said… well, that’s not that bad, it could be worse. It’s worse for other people. I can pretend. But it’s not easy and…” He sucks in an unsteady breath, his face crinkling with emotion. His voice is strained when he continues, “I don’t like lying, and just because I don’t like girls it doesn’t mean I like using them. You were the final straw, I just…” He rubs his temples and shakes his head. “I just need to get through this year. I can move out after school but… my dad won’t give me access to my savings until the end of the year and only if I can show him I’m… ‘better’. So I… I need to get through this year.”

“Hyunjin, I want to help you,” you say, “but you need to know what you’re getting into with me. My father is more dangerous than just hiring a thug. He is the thug, his whole operation is thugs. He snaps his fingers and half the city is rearranging itself for him.”

“You talk back to him a lot,” Hyunjin argues, a fact you cannot refute. Though you are marginally better behaved in company, you are never truly docile.

“Yeah,” you say with a helpless laugh, “but trust me, I’m messed up.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can help each other. Keep our dads off our backs for now then figure it all out.”

Silence falls as you consider each other’s words. You feel like no matter what choice you make, it will be the wrong one.

“He works two jobs,” Hyunjin suddenly says, staring over your shoulder. You don’t have to turn to know it is Minho, on the other side of the room, laughing with his friends. “One is at a coffee shop. On the weekends he teaches dance classes to kids. His family isn’t well off but he is so casual about it that no one cares. Things everyone else gets ashamed or embarrassed about just doesn’t seem to bother him. I thought I hated him at first, because it all seemed so easy for him, and I was jealous because I thought I should be the lucky one. Then one morning after a party I was hungover and bitching at him, and he just said tsk…” Fondness creeps into his expression now, smoothing out the sadness that was there before. “Then he made me some coffee and kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it. I started working myself up about it and he called me idiot and did it again.” He looks at you. His voice is steady now. “My dad would never make coffee for someone. He doesn’t even know how. He pays someone to do all that meaningless stuff for him. Meaningless. That’s all his life is. He think it’s so important but it’s not. But I know better.”

He sits straighter and says with complete confidence, “My life will not be meaningless. I just need to get through this year.”

You know it is not so simple as that. You do not see a light at the end of the tunnel the way he seems to do. But he speaks with so much heartfelt conviction that you really do feel it for a moment.

In the end, it is impossible not to take his hand.

Felix is quiet on the car ride home. You know despite the pretence, he is curious about you and Hyunjin. His regard was a scrutinizing one, watching you hold hands until you said goodbye in the parking lot.

But Felix is acting his role, an indifferent and professional bodyguard. You take turns glancing at each other, occasionally catching eyes but looking away soon after.

The house will be empty for the next couple weeks as your father is on a business trip overseas. You strut confidently into the house with Felix on your heels. You busy yourself with scrolling on your phone, pretending you do not hear his agitated sighs. You plop yourself down on the couch and cross your legs.

Felix stands in front of you, arms crossed. You smile an excessively syrupy smile and bat your eyelashes.

“Yes?” you say. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing with Hyunjin?” he asks.

“You know what I’m doing with Hyunjin,” you say dryly, looking at your phone again. “Just what my daddy said.”

“Okay but uhhh, you don’t like Hyunjin,” he says. “And you definitely don’t like obeying ‘daddy’.” He pitches up the word in a nasally whine to mock you, smiling when you glare.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you say. Then you shrug like the whole thing is beneath you, like you could not care less about his reaction even while it is all you care about.

You stand and knock shoulders when you brush past. You make it a scarce foot before he grasps the back of your neck and guides you back to him, gentle and slow but ungiving in its demand. Even when he lets go, you feel tingles where his fingertips so lightly pressed.

You are standing close, almost cheek to cheek. You can count each familiar freckle.

“Are you free right now?” he asks, dropping his voice in such a suggestive way that you immediately feel flushed. You nod without thinking too hard. When you do, his face lights up with enthusiasm and he smiles, eyes oh-so adorably crinkled with mirth. “Great!” he says. “Put on exercise clothes and meet me in the gym for training.”

He leaves the room in a brisk jog, waving over his shoulder. You stand there for another moment, staring at the empty doorway and computing the whiplash of that whole ridiculous exchange.

Never have you come so close to actually hating that abominable nightmare boy.

You have clearly worked Felix into a mood, so you decide to be marginally complacent and do what he asks lest he hunt you down and force you to do push-ups in the bedroom. We can work-out in the bedroom all right, you imagine yourself saying with a wink, knowing very well there is not a chance you would ever actually be able to say that. Agitating him with a healthy dose of implication is different than outright stating it. Though the look on his face would be funny.

When you reach the gym, he is in sweatpants and a t-shirt just like you. He is stretching in front of the mirror wall. He smiles that sardonic smile through the reflection, beckoning you to join him. You make sure to stomp as petulantly as possible, crossing your arms like a stubborn child when you reach the mirror.

“You need to warm-up first,” he says. “Do you know how to stretch?”

“Yes, I know how to stretch,” you say venomously, a useless lie since he has witnessed your pitiful demonstrations of athleticism in gym class. He doesn’t comment, though, just lifts his eyebrows and says, “okaaaay,” before moving on.

You copy a few of his stretches, though he makes his movements look easier than they are. Then he makes you run a few laps around the room, simply smiling when you scowl at him. You are pretty sure that part was just a petty punishment.

Finally he sets up some mats and starts explaining basic tactical defense positions. He clearly knows what he is talking about and the familiarity of the subject seems to ground him in his body. It draws you into a similar state of relaxation and soon you find yourself actually listening to his instructions.

You mirror a few of his positions, focussing on holding yourself steady, on finding your centre of gravity.

“You won’t beat most people with brute strength,” Felix says. “I mean, uhhh, ha-ha, I’m not exactly the biggest guy in the world, myself, you know? It isn’t about that, though. Look, feel your core strength…”

You lose yourself in your concentration, watching your own motions in the mirror as he steps around you. Your attention only fractures when he lays a hand on your shoulder. He is just fixing your posture but your body does not seem to care that the action is casual. You curse your own sensitivity and tell yourself to get over it, especially when he starts demonstrating more bodily manoeuvres, requiring you to put your hands on his arms or hands or shoulders.

He acts unbothered the whole time, making you feel even more ridiculous. Then he explains something while wrapping an arm around your neck from behind. You step closer instinctively and your eyes widen when your backside collides with his front and you realize he is not as indifferent as he is acting. It is only the vaguest stirring of interest, but his sweatpants do little for modesty.

He nudges you away and clears his throat, continuing his lesson but with a little stutter. You feel flustered and embarrassed too, somehow simultaneously craving this sort of evidence and also balking at it. You actually masturbated in front of each other but for some reason it is more embarrassing when he catches you looking at the subtle imprint in his sweats. He clears his throat again but continues the lesson like nothing happened. When he steps up behind you again, you are both careful to keep your distance, his arm only hovering around you.

“So the best thing in a situation like this—” he starts.

“I know what to do,” you say, the tension so unbearable that if you do not shatter it, it will break you instead. You abruptly swing your arm back, elbowing him in the gut. You catch him by surprise and he stumbles back with an oof, holding his stomach and glaring with playful intensity.

“Very funny,” he says and steps closer again.

“This works too,” you say, giggling then stomping on his foot. It isn’t very hard but it is unexpected so he curses, taking a playful swipe at you when you skip away.

“Mature,” he says sarcastically, but with a genuine smile. You stick your tongue out at him and he reaches again, laughing when you dance out of arm’s reach.

He chases after you and you yelp when he catches up, his retaliation a truly heinous, punitive tickle attack. You squeal and laugh in his arms, squirming to get away and apologizing through your shrieks. He just laughs, continuing his evil barrage of tickles. You get tangled together in your flailing, stumbling around and eventually landing in a giggling heap in front of the mirror.

Finally he stops, just as winded from laughter. You are sitting between his legs, slouched against his chest, facing the mirror as you pant and wind down from your giggles.

You look at each other through the reflection, the longest you have held each other’s gaze in a while. It feels different, less direct, but also more complete. You see yourself as well as him, sitting in a fairly intimate position and looking for all the world like a normal young couple, glowing with carefree happiness.

You take a few steadying breaths. He does as well. The rush of your game settles. In the absence of laughter, the room is quiet. The whole house is quiet, a big empty space with the two of you alone in one small room, securely tucked away in your privacy, looking at each other through a mirror.

He swallows.

Your heart is racing and not from any playful exertion. He has a hand on your elbow and the other on your knee, but he is holding very still, as if a move in any direction will be catastrophic. He is probably right to think that.

You touch his hand anyway, holding his gaze in the mirror while you slide his hand from your knee to your thigh. His brow pinches, expression contorted as if in pain, though the hardening press of him against your backside tells you it is not pain.

He says your name. Then he sighs, closes his eyes, and rests his temple against your head.

“Sweetheart,” he says, drawing out all the softness of heart in his low drawl. You whimper, from that or his touch, his hand high on your thigh. Even through your clothes, his touch burns, waking nerves where it roams.

“Please,” you say, watching his face through his mirror. Finally he meets your gaze there, dark eyes on your face as he lets you guide his hand between your legs.

One deft stroke through your clothes has you making a sound like a sob. It pulls him over the brink of his hesitation, leaving it all behind as he cups you with a possessive sort of determination. His touch is clumsy and desperate but you don’t care, because it’s him.

It all seems to happen so fast and not fast enough, two pairs of nervous hands pushing and pulling. He tugs your knee over his, spreading your legs wide, and slides his hand into your sweats while you buck back against him. Your eagerness overwhelms you so he shushes gently in your ear, his free hand splayed across your collarbone. His forehead is pressed into the side of your head and he looks at you sideways through the mirror. You nod, holding his gaze as he touches you properly.

It is a fumbling, hungry touch, the hunger of someone who thinks he might never eat again after all this plenty. He might be right. He might be wrong. It doesn’t matter right now. You give yourselves over to the experience, as raw and inelegant as all that earnest passion is.

Your breathing is loud enough to fill the whole room, the whole house, broken sighs and guttural moans louder than the yelling that usually fills this place. His touch is only surface, not daring to go so far as putting his fingers inside you, even while rubbing his fingers through all that wet desire. Your knee is hooked over his, keeping you helplessly open under his touch when you come. He looks at you with an incredulous sort of amazement, then his eyes close and his low moan turns to a broken whimper as tumbles over the edge too.

You are both breathing hard in the aftermath, eyes closed, heads touching. You slowly bring your leg back and he slowly withdraws his hand. You look into the mirror when you take his hand, when you put it back between your legs over your clothes and hold it there. He says your name and curses.

It is the last thing he says for a while. You are both quiet. It is only later that night when the silence breaks, when he gets into bed after checking the security system. You look at each other across the space of that bed and mutely come to an accord, his arm outstretched in offering as you move into his embrace. He holds you against his chest, his heart beating under your ear.

“Do you hate me,” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You sniffle. You nod.

“Okay,” he says, and strokes your back until you fall asleep.

Your final year of school passes in a blur of afternoons with Jisung, fake dates with Hyunjin, and long, unsatisfied nights where you and Felix hold each other with the knowledge of everything between you – and do nothing about it. He keeps his head down, trains, and dutifully reports to your father. At least your father is more agreeable these days because of your supposed relationship with Hyunjin. He thinks it is changing you for the better when really you are just being careful for Hyunjin’s sake.

The end of the year rolls around and soon you are down to the last few days of classes. You and Hyunjin are due for a conversation about what happens next. You whisper this to him in class, sitting close as you are sharing a lab desk for two. He is bent down scribbling in your yearbook, his pen scratching when he freezes. He looks up at you and nods.

“Yo, are you lovebirds done?” Jisung asks, spinning around from the desk he is sharing with Felix. He points a ruler at Hyunjin. “You better have left the last page blank like I said, man. I have things to say to my girl.”

“I did, I did,” Hyunjin says with playful exasperation, handing Jisung your yearbook so he can sign it too. Jisung takes it with a snap, clapping the ruler on the desk before turning back to his own seat to write his message. You and Hyunjin look at each other, helpless but to laugh at his shenanigans.

You catch Felix’s eye. He knows your relationship is fake, though he doesn’t know why. He probably figures you are just trying to keep your father off your case. Even if you trust Felix, it is not your place to tell Hyunjin’s story, guarding it so long as he asks.

It does mean Felix looks at you with the occasional battered-puppy eyes.

“Come on, Felix,” Hyunjin says with his big, dimpled smile, “let me write in yours too.”

The yearbooks were handed out this morning so everyone is running around getting their friends to sign farewell messages. You have already signed more yearbooks than you ever imagined you would, Hyunjin’s friends considering you an acquaintance if nothing else. Signing for them was easy at least, lots of have a great summer and good luck with your future.

It is much harder coming up with something for genuine friends. While Hyunjin writes in Felix’s yearbook, you stare down at Hyunjin’s, trying to think of what to say to your fake boyfriend and real friend.

I hope you get everything you want and more, you finally write. I’m glad I got to know you. LUV U BOYFRIEND!!!!

He laughs at the last part when you show him. “I wrote the same thing in yours, loving girlfriend,” he says.

You laugh too. You crumple up some paper to chuck at Jisung who is still scribbling in your yearbook.

“What, are you writing a novel?” you ask. “Hurry up!”

“Patience!” Jisung says. “You can’t rush a masterpiece!”

You, Hyunjin, and Felix all laugh. Once more, you and Felix look at each other a little longer. You did not bother to write in his yearbook as no words could suffice to summarize anything.

He jokingly wrote Have a Great Summer : ) in yours.

Jisung finally finishes his apparent epic, smacking your yearbook onto your desk. You reach for it but he holds it shut, giving you a very serious look.

“You can’t read my message now, okay?” he says. “Read it at home. Alone. With violins in the background.”

You snort and roll your eyes but smile fondly at him.

“Okay, Jisung,” you say, “I promise to cherish it and read your masterpiece properly.”

“That’s all I ask,” Jisung says with a salute.

After school, Felix waits while you and Hyunjin have a quick word.

“Can you come to my house?” Hyunjin asks. “I want to talk properly. Not here.”

You know your father will agree but you need his permission as you cannot visit without an escort. Hyunjin knows you always have a bodyguard not too far from sight; he just does not know that Felix is one of them. Your father sends his own men on your excursions together.

Felix is never too happy when separated. He is cordial enough with your father’s security team but it is obvious that Felix thinks he is more skilled than them, often commenting on their weaknesses or blunders. You do not see things with his professional precision but you take his word for it. It is easy to believe Felix is the best. After all, it takes a whole team of people to replace him.

As predicted, your father agrees to let you visit Hyunjin for the evening. The Hwang mansion is nowhere near as big an estate nor are their security measures even close to your impenetrable, bulletproof, gilded prison, but it is still a secure location where you can be supervised. You go with a few of your father’s men, sharing a dry look with Hyunjin when you arrive at his house. He just smiles, used to it.

You have dinner with his him and his parents, smiling all the while, playing the part you have played all year. Your father’s men surround the house and you pass them in the backyard, making your way to Hyunjin’s old tree-house for some privacy. It leaves you within sight of your father’s men but well out of ear-shot.

You plop down on the little wooden balcony, sighing as you stare into the distance. The sun is setting over the neighbourhood, an orange sky dappled with rosy pinks, sparkling as it catches glass panes and ostentatious embellishments. The creaky old tree-house has a cozier feel, a world separated from the nonsense below.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says after a moment of shared silence, just watching the sunset. You look at each other and he smiles. “Having a real friend who knows me made a difference this year.”

The forthright sincerity is a bit much for you, seeing as you are not so good at communicating so plainly. You think you are improving, though. The old you would have drawn back, but you are able to smile at Hyunjin in return.

“I hope it helped,” you say.

“It did.” He moves a little closer just to be safe. “My father gave me control of my savings. My grandmother left me an inheritance and I needed the money.” His smile brightens his whole face in the rosy light. “I bought a house.”

“A house?” your voice breaks as you try contain your surprise in a whisper.

He laughs at your reaction, still smiling.

“Yes,” he says. “Well, it’s more like a cabin. It’s not much to look at. I needed it to be off the record, all in cash, and far away from here.”

You find the image of a small, homey cabin to be devastatingly beautiful. It could be the most dilapidated, ramshackle mess of a construction and you would still consider it perfect. You imagine sitting on a tiny porch with Felix, him smiling a big smile that crinkles his eyes and shows his teeth, his face sunny and golden and truly carefree, not just pretending.

You look at Hyunjin and see him staring into space with the same smile. You picture him with all the tension gone from his shoulders, laughing his wheezy laugh instead of forcing polite smiles. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you say, holding his hand. “That’s really wonderful.”

It brings him back to you. Some of the dreaminess leaves his expression but he is definitely still happy. He squeezes your hand back.

“I can’t go yet,” he says. “My parents would just… They’d find me. I’m their only son. It would be an embarrassment to them if I just left. When I think about what my father did to my friend just to teach me a small lesson…” You squeeze his hand in sympathy. You both know his parents did not have that boy beaten to keep him away, but to teach Hyunjin a lesson.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath and says, “They won’t let me walk away easily. I have to do it right if I’m gonna be free.”

“How are you going to do that?” you ask, curious for his sake and even your own. The image of a far away cabin, untouched by trouble, is quickly nestling itself in some hidden cockle of your heart. You know that it will be difficult for him to leave but it would be next to impossible for you, so there is no sense in dreaming.

And yet… If Hyunjin can find a way, it makes you think that maybe certain dreams are not so impossible.

But he just sighs and looks away.

“I don’t know yet,” he says. “But I’m going to find a way.” He lets go of your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. He passes it to you and you unfold it. You brow furrows as you read.

“Is this—”

“The city and address to the cabin,” he says.

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask in a small voice. Not for the first time, you curse your inconstant feelings, the quick rise to emotional heights in the matter of seconds.

This is Hyunjin’s future written in a single line on a single piece of paper, such a seemingly simple thing and yet it has the power to completely destroy him. This is his means of his escape, his only avenue of liberty, and he is showing you despite your proximity to some truly wretched forces. He trusts you more than he fears them.

“It’s an easy address to remember,” he says. “I know things are hard for you. I don’t know what will happen to you. I don’t even know what will happen to me. But I know it’s harder when you’re alone. I know having people make a difference because they made a difference for me. If you ever get out, if you ever need somewhere to start…”

You cannot think of what to say. No words seem sufficient in reply. You can only nod and take a deep breath. You look up into the fading light and blink away your tears.

“Thank you,” you say. “I hope if we meet again, things will be different.”

The address has a sweet rhyming lilt to it, easy to remember like he said. You read it over a few times, commit it to memory, then tear up the slip of paper beyond any salvaging.

You sit in the tree-house until the sun fully sets. Little lanterns flicker to life one-by-one in the darkening yard below. When the sky is a blue wash and the path below is twinkling gold, you sigh.

“I don’t want to go back,” you say miserably. You don’t want to see your father or that house. Even Felix will stir nothing but anguish right now, as you think about how you are trapped and he is shackled to you. You also don’t really want to linger here. Your uncontrollable emotional pendulum has swung back from its precipice. A few minutes ago, you were close to crying, and now you feel so empty and resigned that you think you will never cry again. I’m so broken, you think helplessly. You want someone to tell you otherwise but you don’t know how to ask.

Hyunjin leans back, peering into the yard. Your father’s men are getting a little complacent in their boredom, one of them yawning where he is slouched in a deck chair. They are not really paying attention to you. They figure there is no where for you to go, the main steps from the tree-house leading right into their path.

Hyunjin puts a finger to his lips. You follow him quietly across the tree-house, obscured in enough darkness that none of the security team notices. He leads you to a dangling rope ladder, hidden on the opposite side of the tree. He points across the yard to a little garden around a koi pond.

“There’s a gate just past the pond,” he whispers. “There’s a path that leads through the neighbourhood. I’ll stay up here until they say something, then I’ll tell them you went home.” He smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder. “You probably should go home,” he says, “but at least this way you’ll have a bit of time alone first.”

You smile back at him, patting the hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say.

“See you around,” he says, then pushes back his hair and smoulders at you. “And don’t take the break-up too hard. I know I’m handsome but there will be other men.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, pushing his shoulder.

“Oh, please, I broke up with you,” you say. “I couldn’t keep up with your vigorous beauty routine.”

“This face is natural,” he says, laughing too. Then he nudges you and looks more serious. “Go now. They’re not paying attention.”

You briefly weigh your odds. You have not snuck out in a very long time so the punishment might be proportionate to your otherwise good behaviour. Felix is not here so he will not be blamed for your escape. And you will not be avoiding a reprimand no matter what you do, because your father is going to be angry that you and Hyunjin broke-up – especially without consulting him first. If you are going to be punished anyway, you might as well take a walk and clear your head first.

You grab Hyunjin’s hand one last time, giving it a squeeze as you smile. Then you climb down the rope ladder and hurry across the garden. You are out the gate and on the path before you know it.

The wealthy neighbourhood is quiet and brightly lit, every yard illuminated despite the quietude of the street. They are all so pristinely manicured, different yet identical magazine-ready mansions. They look a bit eerie with the darkness around them, like some alien recreation of what a home should look like. It makes you dread the return to your own house. You wonder how much time you have to yourself, if the car is going to pull up alongside you any second now to drag you home.

It is then you remember you do have one more place you can go. Ridiculously, stupidly, your emotions come back in full swing and you feel like crying again. Maybe it is because you have not snuck out in so long, so it is reminding you of the very first time you ever did. You went to the very place you are going now: Jisung’s house.

You always met there before darting off to a party together. Those parties never amounted to much. You and Jisung always talked a big game then spent most of the time in a corner or on a roof, but it was the only time you were ever away from the prying eyes of your father’s overprotective security. You passed many nights that way, complaining to your best friend, talking about nothing, then rushing home before your absence was noticed.

You remember the route to his side of town, catching a bus and getting off at a familiar stop. This neighbourhood looks very different than Hyunjin’s, a range of houses both new and old, rundown and fixed-up. They don’t waste energy lighting their yards unless they have guests. All the light is from the streetlamps and the little yellow squares of homey light beaming through their windows.

You have never actually been inside Jisung’s house. You would usually just meet him in the yard before continuing on. This is the first time you walk up the porch steps and ring the doorbell.

You start to shiver. The adrenaline or your escape kept you warm but now you can feel the chill of the evening.

You are looking around the block and shivering when the door opens. You turn and see an older woman with a scowl on her face. Even if you did not know Jisung lived with his single mother, you would recognize her because of her round cheeks and big eyes, much like him. Except where his face is usually open and friendly, she looks at you like a bug she wants to squish.

“What?” she asks.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” you say, somehow more intimidated by her than your father’s burly security team. “I’m friends with Jisung. I was just wondering if he’s home…?”

She takes a step back and screams his name into the house. You stand awkwardly in the doorway, waiting while thumps and bangs come from the upper level, then Jisung is hurrying down the stairs and skittering into view. You so seldom see him without a hat that it is momentarily jarring, his flop of dark hair going everywhere as he comes to a wide-eyed stop.

He gets over his surprise and smiles wide, saying your name with an upward what-the-fuck inflection.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping aside to let his mother pass. She says nothing more to you, disappearing into a side room.

“I, um, I don’t know,” you say, your emotions in turmoil again. You think about what Hyunjin said, about how having a friend made all the difference for him, and you suddenly realize how much you missed spending time with Jisung, how he was your first and only escape for so long. Tears are falling before you can stop them, a mess of everything with Hyunjin and Felix and your father, but you can only stammer a vague excuse, that you broke up with Hyunjin and wanted to talk to someone.

Jisung’s face is twisted up with surprise and sympathy. He says your name a few times and apologizes, guiding you into the house.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he says, taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom.

“Won’t your mom mind?” For some reason, despite the mania of emotion inside you, that is what you fixate on.

Jisung just laughs dryly, shaking his head as he closes the bedroom door behind you. “Trust me,” he says. “She won’t care. Sit down.”

Jisung’s bedroom is undeniably him, music posters overlapping on the wall, stacks of journals on his desk and bedside table. It is a sprawling canvas of music and writing, not to mention litters of clothes and baseball caps. He pushes a pile of clothes off his bed so you can both sit, shoulder-to-shoulder. His bed is against the wall, under the window, cool stars twinkling down at you while his bedside lamp fills the room with warmth.

Your sobbing has slowed to a heaving stutter. Jisung hands you some tissues to wipe your eyes.

“I’m gonna kill that evil pretty boy,” Jisung says.

You hiccup and shake your head. “It was me,” you say. “Hyunjin is my friend, he’s a good guy, I just—” You start crying all over again, tearing the soggy tissues to shreds. Jisung leans over to fetch some more, his face scrunched up with concern while he watches you dab your sore eyes. “I’m just so messed up, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how much. I don’t even think I could properly love someone if I tried. I just make a mess wherever I go.”

“What! Yo! No. Why are you saying these things?” He looks equal parts bewildered and horrified, quickly wrapping an arm around you. You let your head fall on his shoulder, still wiping your eyes while he rubs your arm. “You are not messed up. You’re my best friend and you’re awesome. How could you have a best friend if you can’t properly love someone, huh?”

“I’m a bad friend though,” you say. “I bail on you all the time and I’m crazy and emotional and—”

“And you have an evil dad who locks you in the house, remember?” Jisung says. “Look, I know it’s not my business, I’d never make you say it, but from what you’ve told me… Dude, that guy fucking sucks.”

You cannot help but laugh at that. Jisung smiles, tweaking your nose.

“I’ve never been mad about that stuff,” he says gently. “Not at you. At your dick dad, sure. But that has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m emotional like him,” you say, tears slowing to a lip wobble. “I fight him all the time but maybe that just proves it. All that anger inside me.”

“Anger isn’t bad,” Jisung says. “It’s a feeling just like anything else. Some people do bad shit while smiling the whole time. Remember that guy who bullied Felix that time at school, and how you hit him with that book? Or other times you just snapped back at some stupid dick? That wasn’t bad!”

You don’t have an argument in you. You just exhale, dabbing under your eyes with the crumpled tissue. Jisung continues to rub your arm.

Your eyes drift and land on one of his baseball caps. It is perched on a stack of schoolbooks. You think back through the years, all those school days, all those stolen parties and late nights. It was a slow beginning, then one day you realized he was your friend, your first ever friend, that he was making you laugh and you had inside jokes and you wanted to spend more time with him. You weren’t afraid to be around him and you knew he wouldn’t make fun of you or push you or judge you.

You feel his arm around your shoulder now and realize you are not afraid of it. You can no longer remember the first time you hugged Jisung, probably because it wasn’t a kiss or anything romantic and so you did not really register it. It was a moment that arrived silently, without any heart palpitations or fanfare, no sweaty palms or hot cheeks. He would have just put his arm around you like he is doing now, asking for nothing in return for it.

You realize he must have been the first person to hug you. Your mother passed away when you were in infancy and the only family you ever knew was your father and his now-late father. They did not hug each other and they did not hug you. The only kind of love you knew was a violent, controlling one, and it made you into a distrustful, feral little child in return.

You have reflected before how it took a long time to warm to Felix. Bit by bit. Touch by touch. It would have taken longer if you had never known Jisung. He drew you out of your shell before anyone else did. You were able to reach for Felix because Jisung reached for you. You were able to befriend Hyunjin because Jisung befriended you.

You find yourself choking back a different sob, one conjured by the realization of just how much Jisung has done by being there. You understand what Hyunjin meant, about a friend making all the difference.

Before you can say anything, Jisung gently asks, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You sit straight to look at him, brow furrowed.

“Your dad,” he says. “Things are… they’re bad, aren’t they? Worse than just not letting you hang out?”

Tears spill over again. You realize he is sniffling now too but holding back tears. He reaches across to wipe your face with his bare hands, swiping at your tears.

“I knew for a while,” Jisung says in a strained voice. “I could see the bruises. I didn’t know what to do. And I felt like I was letting you down because—”

He chokes on his breath. It gives you a moment to interject.

“You have nothing to feel bad about,” you say. You wipe his tears too, laughing at your equal dramatics. “Seriously, Jisungie.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, grabbing your hands and pulling them off his face. He shakes his head like he is trying to shake his tears out of him. It seems to work. After another breath, he manages to speak clearly. “Do you remember our first conversation? At school?”

“About the weather?” you say, thinking back to the first time Jisung started a conversation.

“No, before that,” he says. “We sat beside each other for months but we never spoke. Then I missed a week of school because I made myself sick, all my stupid anxiety and whatever. My mom, you know, she tries but she… It’s just easier for her to ignore me most of the time, I think. I know she didn’t want kids. So I was taking care of myself. And I missed school sometimes because of it, but no one ever noticed when I was gone. It’s like I was invisible everywhere I went. And I got so sick that week that I just wanted to die. But then I went back to school and I got my homework from the teachers and then you—” He slaps his hands in his lap and looks at you, smiling a teary-eyed smile. “You were the first person to ask where I was and if I was all right. And you made a face like you didn’t believe me when I said I was. Then I started talking about the weather.”

“Oh,” you say, shredding the tissue in your lap for something to look at, trying to keep your tears at bay. “I didn’t remember that part.”

“You’re really good at seeing people,” Jisung says. “Even when they’re trying to hide or pull away. I don’t know how you think you can’t love when you’re like that. You know how to do it better than the rest of us who forget to even look.” He takes your hand again, drawing your eyes up to his. “But I’m looking back now, okay? And I’m gonna save you.”

It is so frank and sincere that it makes you laugh.

“I am!” he says, laughing through his own watery voice. “Don’t laugh at me! You saved me and now I’m gonna save you too.”

“It’s not that easy, Jisung,” you say. “You have no idea how crazy everything in my life is—”

“It is that easy,” he says. “You’ll see. I promise. And a best friend promise is a forever promise, okay?”

You cannot bring yourself to argue. You just nod, your bottom lip wobbling again.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Now come hug me so you can’t see me when I start crying like a baby.”

You laugh but fall into his arms nonetheless. You sit under that window for a long time. At least, it feels like a long time. You don’t look at the clock and you don’t count the minutes. It is not the kind of hug that is leading to anything because he doesn’t want to kiss you and he has no other motivation. He just hugs you until you are both calm, when your tears feel silly and dramatic and your eyes are sore but you feel strangely refreshed.

“I need to go,” you say, to which he whines in complaint. You laugh. “Saving me will have to wait for another day. For now, if I don’t get home…”

As if summoned by that very thought, your phone erupts with buzzes and rings. You sigh and fish it out of the pocket of your shorts, watching messages from your father, his security, and Felix come flooding in. The others are making commands and demanding your whereabouts. Felix asks, Are you okay? Then, I have to turn on your GPS. They’re gonna come get you wherever you are.

You answer Felix, telling him you’re fine, that you’re with Jisung. He sends an emoji that manages to look very unimpressed, then just says, that’s what the boss gets for sending amateurs.

Your father’s men are far from amateurs but it is still funny when Felix insults them.

You turn your phone to silent after that, not bothering to answer the others. They will find you in no time with Felix’s help.

“I better go,” you say. “My dad is sending someone to pick me up. I’ll be fine tonight, I promise. But I’m gonna start walking because I don’t want you mixed up in any of this when they get here.”

Jisung tries to argue but lets you go when he sees how serious you are. He insists you take a hoodie for warmth so you do. You give him one last wave before you begin the trek down the block, hoping to get far away before your father’s men find you.

You have made it two blocks over when a sleek black car approaches. You start to walk towards it because there is no other reason for a car that nice to be slowing down on a street like this. Only when it gets closer do you realize you the make and model of the car is not one that your father usually uses, and you do not recognize the driver.

Your heart kicks up with a startled, frantic flutter as the car comes to a slow stop not far from you. You swerve, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid it. You try to act nonchalant, reassuring yourself that it is coincidence, that your father’s insanity is seeping into your brain and making you paranoid.

By the time you realize your anxieties are not baseless, it is too late. Not that you stood much of a chance in the first place.

You try running but there are three of them overall, one driver and two armed muscle guys. They chase you down and cover your mouth before you can scream. You kick and jostle but all of Felix’s self-defence lessons fly out of your brain in your panic. Your tears are all used up so you don’t cry. Even terror passes, leaving only nausea in its wake.

It doesn’t feel real, being shoved into the back of a car by men in black suits. This is not something real that happens. This is something your father threatens, something inane and melodramatic, something out of a movie or a book, not real life. Not your life.

Yet here you are, flanked by two strange men while the driver peels across the tarmac. They do not cuff or gag you, simply buckle you into a seatbelt and point a gun at you. You are shaking too bad to do anything useful anyway, and your voice feels clogged in your suddenly dry throat.

They are talking to you but it takes you a minute to register any word, everything fuzzy and out of focus.

“—just be a good girl and co-operate and everything will be fine.”

That is all you hear.

That and the name Miroh.

You try to calm yourself. You think rationally. Miroh has no reason to kill you or even torture you, as far as you know. In all likelihood, he is using you as leverage to get something from your father. That is why your father is always worried about you being taken. He doesn’t talk about damage to you, just his business.

You manage to calm the worst of your shaking. Then the one with the gun yanks on your hair and you jerk away violently.

“She’s better behaved than Miroh said,” he says with a laugh. “Might not even have to take a finger.”

You clutch your hands tightly together, glaring at him, but it just garners more chuckles. The driver laughs too, peering at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Too well behaved,” he suddenly says, eyes narrowing. “You check her pockets?”

It is then you remember your phone. Felix turned on your GPS. They can track where you are going. Felix can track where you are going. If nothing else, you trust that Felix can do something. Felix, Felix, Felix. It is all you can think about. Felix will find you. You will be back with Felix tonight, safe in your shared bed. You are always safe with Felix. You want to be there right now. You can’t even remember how you got here. Your whole day is turning into one blacked out nothingness, a dreary bleak empty before you found yourself in this car hurtling to god-knows-what fate.

The man finds your phone. You try to reach for it but then you feel the gun at your temple and your whole body locks up. You have seen a gun before, many times, but you have never had one pointed at you. You always thought you would be brave, having been around them your whole life. Maybe that is why you are afraid. Your body is trying to protect you, freezing you like it always does.

The man rolls down the window and throws your phone into the wind.

You sit back and close your eyes, willing this nightmare to end. You try to convince yourself that this is your father’s doing, that he is just trying to teach you a lesson. You wouldn’t even be mad. You just want to go home.

But there is no sign of your father’s security team. You pass dozens then hundreds of cars as you leave the residential area and take the highway. None of your father’s vehicles are among them. And how could they be? They can track as far as your phone and then they have nothing. There is no way for them to know where Miroh’s men are taking you. You have no idea what they want. You can’t even cry or panic because your body is shutting itself down in its panic. The periphery of your gaze is obscured in shadow. Their voices fade in and out, rarely directed at you anyway. They seem to know you will not answer. They have experience with this sort of thing.

Of course they do. Miroh is your father’s only equal. Your father does nothing by halves. Miroh would only send the best.

You leave the highway and turn onto a country road out of the city. Wherever they are taking you, it is far and they are unhurried. You have a long time to stew in your anxiety.

You can only see directly in front of you, through the windshield and the rear-view mirror. You stare, willing one of your father’s black cars to appear in it even though you know that will not happen. The only cars are civilian cars and even those begin to disappear as they take side roads to their own destinations. Soon it is just one other car trailing you at a distance. It is a beat-up civilian truck, not very big, a splotchy, peeling burgundy. The rims are muddy from frequent use and little washing.

It is ugly but it could be the last thing you see for a while. It makes you stare more intensely.

You are focussing so hard on the tiny details that you do not even notice it is speeding up. It goes from a distant spot to filling the rear-view in moments.

The driver mumbles a curse to himself, shaking his head and frowning.

“What’s this idiot doing?” he grumbles. “As if we don’t have enough to deal with. Now we got some drunk on the road.”

The truck is swerving, back and forth, then it speeds up and whips past your car. It startles the driver, making him veer a hard right as the truck goes left around him. He shouts a curse even though the other driver can’t hear, the truck already speeding away into the darkness. There are no street lamps on the country road so it completely vanishes, disappearing when it leaves the glow of your headlights.

There is a moment of quiet. A tunnel of light. Darkness around it.

The truck appears again in the middle of it, parked and blocking the entire road lengthwise. The driver shouts another curse and slams on the brakes to stop from barrelling into it.

The whole car lurches with the sudden halt. You snap forward and back again, held down by the seatbelt. The other two hit the seats in front of them, cursing as they fix themselves. The weapons guy drops his gun and it clatters somewhere on the ground of the vehicle. You watch him dive down, cursing to himself before he finds it.

“Get him out of the way!” the driver shouts, pointing to the stopped vehicle. The two men get out of the car, sounding more aggravated by the obstacle than afraid. The other one pulls a gun so they are both armed as they approach the vehicle.

The men circle the truck. You can see they are yelling and cursing again. They come stomping back over to the vehicle. Even with all the windows rolled up, you can hear him as he shouts, “There’s no one fucking there!”

“What!” the driver returns, pointing ahead. “He didn’t just disappear! Check the—”

He is interrupted by the rattle of unexpected thunder – what sounds like someone running up and over the car from behind. You both look up as if you can see through the car roof. The men outside react just as fast, guns raised. Shots are swiftly fired and you cover your ears, flinching.

The figure comes into view. It feels like your heart stops.

Felix takes a flying leap off the roof of the car and comes swinging into view. He lands on the shoulders of one of the men. In one sharp move, Felix snaps the man’s neck. When his body crumples, Felix jumps, tackling the other man and knocking his gun out of the way. He pulls his own gun out of his waistband and you don’t even have time to cover your eyes before a bullet shatters the man’s temple. That body falls too.

It was a matter of seconds. The driver scarcely has time to react. He is fumbling with the glove compartment when Felix walks up to the car and shoots his window. The bullet does not penetrate the glass but it fractures it, sending shards flying onto the man.

You shriek, your voice coming back to you. Felix smacks the broken window with the butt of the gun, shattering it completely. He unlocks the car, his face devoid of all emotion as he throws open the door and reaches in. He grabs the man by the scruff of his neck and repeatedly slams his head against the steering wheel, knocking him out cold.

He closes the door with a kick and tucks his gun back in his waistband.

Adrenaline completely takes over your body. You do not think or reflect, only feel and act. Felix steps toward the car to open your door but you are already pushing it open. He steps back when it flies past him, already breathing hard when you stumble out of the vehicle on shaky legs.

“Do you have any idea—” he starts, his deep voice breaking. “Any, any idea how worried I was? And those stupid, fucking, incompetent—”

He is pointing to nowhere, just gesticulating in his emotions. It all seems to pour of him, terror and agony, anger and helplessness. He is wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans, a sleeveless red flannel over a t-shirt. He was probably sitting at home when he jumped into action.

His dark roots are starting show in his golden hair. You will have to colour that for him, you think, giddily, half-mad.

“You could have died,” he is saying. “They could have—”

You throw your arms around his neck and crash into him. It is a collision of a kiss, more teeth than lips until you figure out to close your mouth.

Those men could not move him but you can. He backs up under the guiding push of your soft hands, walking, walking, walking, each quick backward step until you have him pressed up against the truck, your lips still locked. When you finally separate it is with a gasping, wet split. You stare at each other, taking in the reality of the other person. Him, with blood disappearing into the red threads of his flannel. You, alive, unharmed, right here in front of him with no one to stop him from kissing you again.

He grabs you by the neck and pulls you back to him, kissing you with an open-mouthed desperation that has you practically sobbing with need. He flips your positions, cupping the back of your head so you are not hurt when he pins you to the truck. You sink your fingers into his hair, wrapping a leg around his waist as he grinds against the softest spot of you. He licks into your mouth, making a rumbling noise of deep, heartfelt satisfaction that makes you throb.

His lips are pink and raw when he stops for a breath. You kiss the side of his face, clinging to him, making a pleading noise when he does not resume kissing you.

He steps back and points to the car.

“Get in the truck,” he says firmly. “This isn’t the time. Don’t argue.”

You have no desire whatsoever to argue. You climb into the passenger seat while Felix makes a phone call. You watch him through the window, running a hand through his hair, his mouth pink, his shirt blood-stained.

You have always known Felix was capable of this sort of thing, but seeing it is very different than imagining it. Before it was some nebulous concept of a person but now the reality of him collides with the boy who has been sharing your bed for years. This is the same boy who needed your help to tie his school tie. Cartoon-watching, computer-building Felix, with his dry wit and toothy smiles.

You are not sure what it says about you that you are not afraid of him, not even a little bit. Maybe it is because you are not surprised. Maybe it is something else. But the only thing you want right now is for him to put his arms around you.

He gets into the truck and sits there for a moment, just breathing as he looks down at his phone. A thought flickers across his eyes, a twitch of his brows, then he turns off the phone and tosses it into the backseat. The gun follows with a clatter. You look back at both then at him with shock.

Felix has never turned off that phone. It is always completely charged and within reach. The GPS cannot be tracked if it is off. Your father cannot reach him if it is off. It is never supposed to be off.

You stare at him, tracing his profile as he pushes his hair back then starts the car. You only look away when you pass the other vehicle, the unconscious driver still slumped over the wheel. You turn your head, watching the scene disappear into the darkness behind you.

“Your father’s men will clean it up,” Felix says, drawing your eyes back to him. He does not look away from the road, resolutely focussed despite the lack of traffic on the country road.

“You left one alive,” you say. “What if he wakes up?”

“Uhh, he’ll be lucky if he is conscious in two days,” Felix says with a scoff. His lips draw into that thin line. “Your father will want someone to interrogate.”

You look out the windshield and sigh. You feel like you have aged years tonight yet it also feels like none of this really happened. It seems impossible that moments ago you were staring through a different windshield, petrified.

Felix looks at you. You turn your head and meet his gaze, watching grief twist his features before he looks ahead again.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, gripping the wheel tight with both hands.

You shake your head, still facing him, studying him.

“I was thinking about you,” you say, the words escaping in a breathless slur. “It was the only thing that made me feel safe.” You find it easier to speak your feelings after everything. It’s like all that fear blasted through a barricade. You thought you might never see him again and all those feelings were trapped inside you. You cannot help but let them pour out now, like blood seeping from an open wound, your hand shaking as you reach across the console to touch the side of his face.

His breath stutters. He takes your hand and for a moment holds it, squeezing it in his. He does not look away from the road. Eventually he puts your hand in your lap, curling it around your thigh and squeezing, then he grabs the wheel again.

Your gaze drifts to the wheel then the overall truck. The rest of reality comes back to you in increments and you suddenly realize this is obviously not one of your father’s cars.

“Where did you get this truck?” you ask.

“I stole it,” he says.

“You stole a car?!” you shriek, voice naturally pitching up with surprise.

He looks at you incredulously.

“I just killed two men,” he says. “You’re worried about the car?”

“I don’t know!” You slouch in your seat, looking out the window. “Don’t talk to me, I’m traumatized.”

He shakes his head but laughs a little. You do not speak for a bit, the only sound the tires rolling over the gravel road. Then Felix sighs.

“They wouldn’t listen,” he says. “Your father’s, hmmm, ‘professionals’.” He rolls his eyes and clicks his jaw, clearly still pissed about it. “I knew it had to be Miroh. You were heading west to the highway when your GPS stopped. I knew where they’d be taking you. But your father’s geniuses thought you threw your phone and were running. But you wouldn’t do that, yeah. You want to be found. That’s why you run. You want him to care enough to chase you and bring you home.”

You look out your window, resting your head in your hand as rows of dark trees pass you by.

“Home,” you say. “Miroh. Not sure there’s going to be a difference in what’s waiting, is there?”

Felix says nothing to this. The gravel road comes to an end as you approach tarmac. Instead of turning left to return to the highway, Felix turns right. You look back through the window, confused, wondering if you mistook your location. But no, you are definitely driving further into the countryside.

“The highway is that way,” you say, looking at him. His whole body is tense, eyes locked on the road. “Aren’t we going home?”

“Yes,” he says, then turns up a different country road. “Eventually.”

You do not know what to expect with Felix. His emotional fluctuation is not as blatant as yours, but he does waver unpredictably, one moment leaning towards you and then pulling away. You do not know what he is planning and you do not ask. You simply stare through the window as you turn up a few more roads, getting further and further from the main road until you turn into a small gravel lane between some fields. Bushes surround the car on either side, the main road very far behind you.

Felix turns off the car but keeps both hands on the wheel, still staring intensely out the front window.

“Where are we?” you ask, squinting through the dark at the fields. It feels exceptionally quiet without the engine running.

“This cannot happen again,” Felix says.

He is still facing forward, concentrating on nothing that you can see. You look ahead then back at him, sighing with exasperation. If he drove you out here to just to lecture you some more…

“I know,” you say. “I shouldn’t have left in the first place. I’m sorry. I know it’s your job to—”

“This has nothing to do with my job,” he says. He shakes his head. “I— You—Do you understand how I— This is— This is reckless. Stupid. It cannot happen again, yeah? Do you get me?”

“I know,” you say. “And it won’t. I get it. No more running, I just—”

Your breath catches when he looks at you. There is so much heat in his gaze that you feel immediately flushed.

He undoes his seatbelt then reaches across the console and undoes yours. When you hear the click, it all registers. You reach for him as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls. This kiss is a crash as well, but a stumbling one, less vicious than thirsty. Arms get tangled in seatbelts but he manages to whip them aside. He guides you into his lap as you climb ungracefully over the console with all your shaking limbs.

You make a sound like relief when you are in his lap, chests touching, knees pressing into his hips, arms around his neck. His hands are under your borrowed hoodie, then under your shirt, palms splayed against the bare skin of your back as he kisses you with a wet open mouth, hungry and seeking, asking and taking.

He reaches to the side and fumbles for something. You squeal with surprise when the seat abruptly drops, your combined weight pushing it flat when he flips the lever. The surprise passes and he spills back, taking you with him. He yanks at your hoodie and you sit up to pull your arms through. Embarrassingly enough, you get tangled trying to remove it at the same time as your shirt. You get them both off, laughing shyly and feeling ridiculous with your ungraceful action.

He blinks up at you, his face full of much more wonder and affection than you think you merit. It is almost more embarrassing than your clumsiness.

Your awkward hand covers your collarbone but he takes that hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing you palm then your fingertips. You throb with the recollection of the last time he took your fingers in his mouth, except this time he doesn’t look away, all that heat centred on you.

He grasps your hips then slides his hands up your body. You wonder if other people feel like one big shivering mess at such simple touches. You blame it on today’s chaotic episode. For a moment, you were nothing and no one, floating in a bleak emptiness with no past or future. Just a bartering tool, business collateral, a thing sitting in a car for transport to be used by a different bad man for financial leverage.

Felix touches you and your body comes to life, all that humanity rushing back. You’re a person and so is he, flushed and excited, just a little messy but earnest. You find yourselves in a stolen moment in a stolen car, nothing yours but each other.

He palms your breasts through your bra then fumbles with the clasp, his usually dexterous hands suddenly jumpy. It makes you both laugh, tittering little sounds as you get it off and toss it aside. His calloused hands on your bare skin erases any lingering embarrassment.

Straddling his hips, you rock against him. The hard line of him is pushing at the fly of his jeans, as receptive and eager as you. You make similar sounds, soft low hums, used to keeping quiet. You remember you don’t have to restrain yourself so you moan when he cups you through your shorts, grinding the heel of his palm against the soft wet heat of you. You push his shirt up, running your hands over his chest, noticing a few scars but not lingering much right now.

You touch him like he touches you, hands wandering, working each other up until you are wild in your wanting. He makes a rough sound when you squeeze him through his jeans, then he is trying to work off your shorts while you unbutton his fly. You have to get off him to take the rest of your clothes off. His fingers are twitchy as they scrabble over his fly, unzipping then shuffling his jeans down his hips.

You are confronted with that moment of intention again, when his jeans are at his knees and his shirt is pushed up, when you are completely naked in a car in the middle of nowhere and climbing back on top of him, making the deliberate choice to do what you are doing. It is exhilarating. It is scary. You have big fears, about the repercussions in the world outside this vehicle, and you have little fears, like what if you are not good at this and you let him down after everything.

But that seems impossible when he looks at you like that, warm and desirous, breathing hard as he drags his fingers down your body and slips them between your thighs. You touch him too, marvelling in his sounds and faces, the flush of his cheeks, his mussed hair. With just his fingers inside you, he is already looking at you like you are a singular miracle.

It does feel miraculous. When you think of where you started, when you think of who you are, this seems so impossible. But you are here, losing yourself to his steady touch and tender gaze. You grab his wrist, instinctively seeking control when he works you up to an orgasm, making you clench around his fingers. You shudder on top of him, your head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he says, so low and guttural it hardly sounds like a word. Then he says softly, “Sweetheart.” This is accompanied with a long touch inside you, dragging his fingers so slowly, drawing out your orgasm until your whole body feels soft and pliant. You ache with the loss of him when he withdraws his touch, just his thumb rolling across that oversensitive nub of pleasure. Your skin already feels sweaty where you are touching, your hand curled around the length of him as you position yourself above him.

Even with his effort, it is a stretch and burn when you first sink down. You smack a hand on the roof of the truck, scratching your nails over it as you sit in his lap with him inside you.

He curses. His head falls back, his eyes closing.

“Is it okay?” you ask in a strained voice.

He replies, “Ahh…” then, “Uh!” then “Uhhhahh…” then finally, “Yes, yes. God yes.” He lifts his head and looks at where he is inside you, then he looks up at you. “Are you, uh, are you okay?”

His voice is a raspy thing, his face so raw with pleasure that you find yourself giggling in spite of yourself.

“Yeah,” you say on a breath. “Just… a lot.”

He sits up, careful not to jostle you too much. You still feel him moving inside you. When you clench, he makes a sound, but he is not distracted from his mission, cupping the back of your head and bringing you close for a kiss. You sink into it, your hands sliding onto his shoulders as his tongue slips past your lips.

He helps you move, both of you following base instinct and little else. It starts to feel deliriously good. You are light-headed from kissing, worked up from knowing he is as close to you as he possibly can be.

You move slowly, hands roaming over each other. You get his flannel off and toss it into the passenger seat. Then he braces himself to move his hips better, holding you steady. You touch the roof so you don’t hit your head, rolling your hips to meet him. It’s good but not enough and soon he is turning you over, laying you on your back under him. He has to separate from you to get comfortable.

You whine, touching yourself, and he smacks his head hard against the roof with surprise. You laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth while he winces and rubs his head.

“Are you okay?” you ask, still giggling. Fortunately, he chuckles, wincing again for show before sighing.

“Never better,” he says, and takes off his shirt. You are both perspiring and not just from exertion, the car trapping all your combined heat and breathing. The windows have completely fogged over and it shields you completely. You have never felt more safe. You eagerly open your legs to him as he settles on top of you and finds his place again.

You wrap around him, whimpering and moaning and sighing when he finds a rhythm in this position. He cradles you in his arms, rocking into you until you are dizzy with it. He somehow feels deeper and deeper with every motion. He kisses your chest and throat, up to your ear, across your face, your mouth. You kiss him back, hooking your ankles behind his back and pulling him hard against you like you want more.

“Got you,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “Got you, sweetheart.”

He makes you come again, tears springing to your eyes from the sensation of it all. When his breathing gets frantic and his hips erratic, you let him go. You breathe hard under him as he sits back and grabs his discarded flannel, coming into that.

He tosses it aside after, then runs his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you. You slowly sit up and lean in for one more kiss. He obliges, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You want to wrap around him again, hold him to your chest and lay there until you are both ready for more.

You take what you can get. This was dangerous, but you have no regrets. Even when you are both dressed and in your own seats, you feel enflamed and alive and glowing.

He tosses his flannel out the window, leaving it on the ground behind you. You roll down the windows and return to the highway. It is a long drive home.

Your father does not punish you. He does not punish Felix in place of you. The house is deathly silent when you arrive home. Your father is in his office and Felix takes you there to see him.

Your father does not even look up from his book. After a moment he asks, “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head but he isn’t looking at you, so you are forced to find your voice and answer, “No.”

“Good,” he says and turns the page to his book.

You are teetering on the edge of panic all over again, waiting for him to erupt, to throw something at you, to grab you by the hair and give you a beating worse than anything ever before. But he just turns another page to his book, so it’s you that erupts.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you say in a frantic rush. “Hyunjin and I broke up and I was upset so I wanted to see Jisung, that’s it, I just wanted to see my friend. It’s just because—”

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to stop you from running your mouth when you don’t need to do so. It succeeds in silencing you, your voice breaking. You swallow down a sob.

Your father finally lifts his head. His expression is completely blank. There is no trace of anger, no sadness, no guilt. You do not know what to do when he is like this. He is giving you nothing worth a reaction so all your emotions bubble inside you with nowhere to go, spilling over and scalding you like a boiling pot.

“Go to bed,” your father says. “What’s done is done.”

It is not surprising that you have a nightmare, waking in a fit that even Felix cannot comfort. Your half-asleep mind panics when he grabs you, forgetting who he is. Only when he repeats your name in that sweet, low voice do you remember yourself. You collapse against him, shaking while he strokes your back and talks gently to you, lulling you back to sleep. It remains fitful and uneven but you get through the night.

You are expecting the punishment to come in the morning but your father does not speak to you even though he is in the house. You do not see him all day. You have another restless night of bad dreams, Felix comforting you as best he can. You wake the next morning thinking that surely, the punishment would come today. There is no way your father is letting you get away with this. He is planning something, something big, something you will never forget.

But your father is gone and so is the security team. Felix phones him and your father informs him that he had some impromptu business to take care of, that he would be gone for the next week.

You are driving to school on Monday morning when Felix says, “Maybe he thinks it was punishment enough on its own.”

“Do you really believe that?” you ask.

Felix does not answer because he knows how far-fetched that is. He knows your father as well as you do.

There are only a couple more days of school. This late in the semester, the lessons are completed, exams being graded. Everyone is gearing up for graduation, signing yearbooks, taking pictures. Classes offer more down time than work, letting students mingle. It is easy few handful of days, the most exceptionally fun days of the whole year.

Jisung would not miss it. And he would not abandon you after your conversation. When he is missing from school on Monday, you are immediately filled with horror.

Felix looks at you when he realizes Jisung is missing, doing his best to calm you with his eyes.

“He wouldn’t,” you murmur, just loud enough for Felix to hear. “Tell me he wouldn’t…”

Felix says nothing. He knows your father as well as you do.

You try phoning Jisung at various intervals through the day but it keeps going straight to voicemail. Jisung is not great at keeping his phone charged so this is not unusual on its own, but you cannot shake the dread in the pit of your gut.

Before the day ends, you all but throw yourself at Felix. All it takes is one teary-eyed please for him to nod, understanding.

You have the driver take you to Jisung’s house. Felix steps out of the car and calls your father, needing to report your diversion from routine, but also hopefully gleaning some intel into your father’s potential involvement. Meanwhile, you run up the porch and frantically bang on the door, not stopping until Jisung’s mother whips it open.

“What?” she snaps. “Why are you banging— oh it’s you.”

“Where is he?” you ask. “Is he sick? Can I see him?”

“He’s just at the hospital,” she says like this is no big deal at all, even while you are sweating through your clothes with anxious terror.

“The hospital?” you ask. “Why is he—”

“Calm down! He just had an allergic reaction,” she says. “Stupid child ate peanuts and didn’t have his pen. He’ll be fine.”

“Can you tell me which hospital?” you say. Some tension leaves your body with this revelation but even so, you will not feel truly at ease until you can see that Jisung is safe with your own two eyes.

His mother tells you where to find him and you thank her while she closes the door in your face. You are feeling lighter already, heart bursting with light when you spin and jump off the porch.

You rush up to Felix, eager to report your good news, but you draw to a slow stop at the look on his face. This is not his professional indifference, listening to commands, but instead an expression of obvious remorse. He looks apologetic, eyes full of pity, as he extends his arm, handing you the phone.

You press the device to your ear, heart skipping beats in the worst way.

“Hello?” you say.

“After everything I have done for you,” your father says. “After everything I have given you. After my leniency despite your repeated abominable behaviour. For you to end things with an appropriate boy to go chasing after some no-count, miscreant loser with no future and no—”

“What are you talking about?” you say. “I don’t even know—”

“You stupid little—” You can picture his face, mouth frothing with rage, brows pinched in fury. You can picture him catching his breath as he slams a hand on his desk. “Do you think I couldn’t see it all over your face? That you were out whoring around with that nobody boy you call a friend? I could see your commitment to the Hwang boy was a front but I foolishly thought you were making an effort to improve yourself. How long have you been deceiving me? Fronting with the Hwang boy while you run around with your schoolboy behind my back?”

He thinks you’re dating Jisung. He thinks this is all because of Jisung. You cannot tell him the truth without ruining your life, Felix’s life, and Hyunjin’s life.

You scramble for a defence, a denial, but memories of you and Felix flood your mind, the panic of that night takes over you, and soon you are freezing up.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” you eventually manage, your voice quivering with the rest of you. “Please, Jisung is completely innocent, he’s just my friend, he—”

“Please,” your father says derisively. “You have the audacity to say please to me now. To ask for my permission now. You listen to me and you listen well. What I did to this boy was nothing. Having an allergen slipped into his food was a warning to you. Your one and only warning, a warning I am only giving you because I prefer not to deal with civilian messes when I can avoid it. But I whole-heartedly assure you, that if I find out you are in contact with this boy, if I find out you are even thinking about looking in his direction, it is over for him. I will have him shot in the fucking head in front of you if that’s what it will take to get through to you.”

You are bombarded with the image of Felix shooting those men. Suddenly, you imagine it is Jisung across from him instead. You look at Felix with a frantic, terrified look. Your voice is weak when you say, “Dad, please, he’s—”

“Do not talk to back me!” he screams. “You spoiled little slut! He’s trash, is what he is! Do you know what kind of life I have given you? How dare you insult me this way. How dare you throw it all on that waste of a person. You go to that boy and you tell him to stay away or it will be the end of him. Do you understand me? Say yes or so help me—”

“Yes,” you say, sucking in a hard breath to keep your tears at bay. “Yes, fine, just leave him alone. Don’t hurt him, please.”

Your father hangs up without another word.

You look up at Felix. He takes the phone, sucking in a breath of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s not your fault,” you say.

Jisung is sitting up in his hospital bed when you find him. His phone is a dead brick sitting on his bedside table, uncharged as anticipated. He is sipping from a carton and watching television when you walk into the room, surprising him. His face lights up with delight and he chokes on his drink, dribbling a bit down his front.

You hurry to his side, worried, but he just laughs and wipes his chin.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” he says. “It was just a flare-up. They’re just keeping me for observation to make sure I don’t, you know, suffocate and die in my sleep.” He says this like it is ridiculous and funny but you are overwhelmed with the image of Jisung lying still in this bed, all the life and colour of your wonderful and vibrant best friend drained to nothing.

Jisung can see something is wrong. The humour falls from his expression, replaced with concern as he sees you well up with tears.

“Hey,” he says, softer. “I said I’m fine. Don’t worry. Is this about something else? Are you okay?”

You are not crying but you can feel the emotion in your throat. If you speak, you think it will pour out in a flood. You can only sit there, perched on the edge of his bed, staring at him. He still looks strange without his hat. Although he is joking around, there is an admitted pallor to his complexion. He is on the mend but he has clearly been very ill for a day at least.

That pallor and serious expression look so wrong on his face. When you think of Jisung, you think of happiness, the first burst of sunshine in your life after growing up in shade. You think about his awkward laughter during your first conversation, his many hugs, his stupid jokes, his winks and encouragements. You did not know how to love anyone or anything until you met him.

In your silence, he looks around, spotting Felix hovering in the doorway.

“Felix!” he says. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“Hey,” Felix says gently. He looks at you, sees your downturned face as you gather yourself. He smiles at Jisung with his best distracting grin, like everything is fine, like everything has always been fine. “Just saying bye, man,” Felix says.

“Bye?” Jisung asks. “Where are you going? Right before grad? Not back to Australia, are you?” Jisung looks at you and pets your head. “Is Felix leaving? Is that why you’re upset?”

“No, Jisung,” you say, forcing your voice. You shake your head. “No, it’s not Felix. I just…” You look up and meet his eyes, so big and concerned. You see him at age twelve, thirteen, fourteen, all those years he coaxed you out of your shell and ran around with you. He was the first person to look back at you, to see something worth reaching for. You want to touch his face and hug him, but you are certain if you start any of that, you will not be able to do what you need to do. “Jisung, I’m leaving,” you say. “I won’t be able to see you again.”

“What?” he asks, confused for just a moment before he shakes his head and frowns. “This is about your dad, isn’t it? Is he doing something? You have to let me help you—”

“Jisung, you can’t help me—”

“Yes, I can—”

“You can’t—”

“Then who’s going to?” he demands.

“Not you!” Anger and sadness combine and you look away, staring at the crinkled juice carton on his bedside table. He is here because of you. “Jisung, he made you sick. He will try to kill you.”

“What?” Jisung asks, barely above a whisper. “H-how? I don’t even—”

“He has professionals,” you say, meeting his bewildered gaze again. “And he can do much worse than this.”

Jisung opens and closes his mouth, failing to find the words, then finally he shakes his head and says, “No. I don’t care. I’m not scared, I’m—”

“I’m scared,” you say. “Jisung, I don’t want to see you ever again, because if something happened to you—” You cannot conceive of a world where this is no Han Jisung. You would not be the person you are now if he had never existed. You would not have any emotions at all. For the first time, you do not curse your sensitive feelings, rather you relish in feeling them at all, that you have a friend that it hurts to lose. “Jisung, please,” you say. “Don’t make this harder for me. I’m going to go and we can’t see each other again. The best thing you can do for me is have a good life.”

Jisung starts crying, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he says. “What about you? What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You laugh dryly, looking aside. “It would have been better for you if you never knew me.”

“You already know that’s not true,” he says in a small voice.

You are certain his face is full of pain but you cannot bring yourself to look at him again. You try to say the word goodbye but it gets stuck in your throat, so finally you just stand up to leave.

He grabs your arm, tugging you back. You stare at the bed, not at him.

“I said my promise was forever,” he says. “I don’t care if it’s in five years, or ten years, or fifty. I know I’m not—I know I can’t do much but—if you need me—”

You just nod, scrunching your face to stop the tears. It does not work. You pull your arm away and he lets you go, his hands falling helplessly limp to the bed. You stare at the ground as you walk away, not looking back at him, not even looking at Felix.

You are standing in the doorway when Jisung says your name one more time, barely more than a whisper yet stopping you faster than all your father’s screaming.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he says.

You look up at Felix. You know when you leave this place, you are going to take his hand. When you climb into bed tonight, you are going to wrap your arms around him and let him hold and comfort you. You are going to soothe his nightmares the way he does yours. You are going to carve out a corner of light and happiness in your otherwise dark life. You are going to do that because you know how, because having a friend made all the difference.

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, wiping your face. “You did save me.”

You do not stop again, walking past Felix and into the corridor. He follows swiftly behind, laying a hand on your lower back then taking your hand. You squeeze it and he squeezes back. You let him guide you out of the building, your vision blurry. He knows there is nothing he can say to help right now, but he touches you gently and helps you along. When you get home, he trails behind you as you trudge up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Can I do something?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Not right now, thank you.” Your voice is still weak. “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

You nod and continue up the stairs, not even sure what your plan is right now. It feels strange to go about your usual routine but that is what you do, your body carrying you automatically through each task, changing clothes, putting your uniform away, washing your face.

You sit at your desk and decide you might as well go through your stack of school supplies. You have been dumping textbooks and notebooks here as the semester ends. You sort the empty notebooks from the used ones, the books you will never re-read from the ones to shelve. You find your yearbook in the middle of it all. You realize you never actually read Jisung’s message.

You open the book, skimming the other messages from other students. Lots of Have a Great Summer from Hyunjin’s friends, but a few cute personalized memos too. Felix’s joking scrawl is at the bottom of a page and it makes you smile and shake your head. You smile again when you read Hyunjin’s note: Our lives will not be meaningless. He ended it with a playful, LOVE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND!!

You flip through the book. You were not in any clubs or on any teams so there are very few pictures of you, just your posed portrait and one photo on a collage page – you, Jisung, and Felix awkwardly smiling as the yearbook photographer snapped a picture of you at lunchtime.

You swallow. You already know turning to the last page is going to make you cry. You could avoid it. You could close this book and never think about it again. Your father would never walk into any situation that would deliberately compromise his mental and emotional integrity. He would deride you for doing so. You used to think he was right, that your feelings were a weakness.

You realize your feelings make him weak, not you. He wants you to be a robotic doll, devoid of feelings, blindly obedient, but you are not. You will never strive to be that.

You flip to the final page, filled with Jisung’s writing. You smile and cry and curse out your father, then close the book and hug it to your chest, your heart beating steadily where you cradle it close.

To the bestest most awesome girl in the world (not just saying that because you’re the only girl I know) from the bestest most awesome boy in the world (including your evil boyfriend, sorry!)

Usually it’s easy for me to put my thoughts in writing but I’m drawing a blank. How can I tell you in words how important your friendship is when that friendship is made up of more than words? I never thought I’d be someone who runs off to parties or sneaks out onto rooftops, and I never thought I’d have so many friends. Thank you for giving me the world. I hope we can keep exploring it together. I know no matter what, we’ll still be friends, even if we’re far away after school ends. Our parents might suck and we might be kinda weird as hell, but we have each other and that counts for something. We loved each other first so no matter what else happens that will be always true. Boyfriends will come and go but your best friend is forever!! And you know I’ll be ready with a shovel if anyone breaks your heart. I know it’s sappy to say, but it’s always safe with me.

Times might be hard and we might drift apart, but I know we’ll see each other again and it will be like we never left. Take care of yourself if I’m not there. Keep fighting!!! Nothing will be impossible for you.

Your best friend now + always,

Han Jisung ♡

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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calicoheartz · 5 months

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Omg could you write about going to Caitlin’s house for the holidays and meeting her family?

A Christmas Kiss ; Caitlin Clark ﹒﹒✧

summary : meeting Caitlin’s parents for the holidays !

wc ; 499

warnings : none! just pure fluff :)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : tysm to the person who requested this! had a lot of fun writing it ! I hope you enjoy ◡̈

The crisp winter air filled the quaint town, the snowflakes dancing gracefully outside your girlfriends charming countryside home.

You couldnt shake the nerving excitement bubbling within you, as this just wasnt any christmas; it was your first time spending the holidays with Caitlin and finally meeting her family. As you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by th warm glow of the Christmas lights the adorned the rooftops, and the sound of joyful laughter coming from inside.

You timidly rung the doorbell, your girlfriend rushed out to meet you, with her eyes sparkling with delight. “Y/N! Youre finally here!” she exclaimed, quickly engulfing you in a tight hug. “Ive been counting down the days until i could introduce you to everyone” she stated.

You both then entered the cozy home, where you were then greeted by Cait’s family, who welcomed you with open arms and a genuine sense of love and want. Amidst the festive decorations and the scent of cinnamon and pine filling the air, you quickly felt a sense of belonging that you had never experienced before.

As the evening unraveled, you found yourself captivated by the Clark family traditions and the love that radiated from every corner of the room. As you stole short but sweet glances at Cait, you could feel your heart swelling with the affection for the girl that had brought continuous joy into your life.

As the holiday festivities continued, you and Cait had found moments of quiet intimacy amidst the bustling chaos, stealing kisses under the mistletoe and sharing whispered promises of your love and devotion for eachother.

On christmas morning, as you exchanged gifts by the twinkling tree, you couldnt contain your excitement as the brunette handed you a small wrapped box in glistening paper. With trembling hands, you slowly opened it to reveal a delicate diamond ring, with your initials engraved onto the band; a promise ring. You turned to Cait, with tears in your eyes. This was her telling you that she wants to spend the rest of her life with you, whether it be right in this moment or later, she would promise to make you hers forever.

As the day turned into night and the fire crackled in the fire place, you knew this christmas would hold great significance for you for years to come, cherishing it in your heart. Being surrounded by the girl you loved more than anything and her family gave you a huge sense of gratitude and contentment.

Curled up by the couch, basking together in the warm of eachothers embrace, you heard her whisper a small “i love you”, as she peppered your face with kisses. You couldnt help trying to contain your giggles, simply replying “thank you for making this the best christmas ever”

The brunette smiled, looking down at you, her eyes sparkling with love as she said, “heres to many more holidays together”.

That was when underneath the twinkling lights of the tree, you both shared a deep and meaningful kiss, her hands immediately found their way to your hips and she forced you closer to her, doing anything to keep you as near to her as possible.

A kiss that sealed your love and marked the beginning of a lifetime of joyous holidays together.

omg i think this might be my favorite piece of work!! loveee the way this turned out :) tried to keep it short n sweet but fulll of tooth-rotting fluff ! Tysm for reading <3

#caitlin clark #headcannons #wlw #my hcs #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb #wlw imagine #caitlin clark x reader #22 #hawkeye #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #kate martin #wcbb x reader

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lesbiamano · 4 months

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the way i can see either enki, ragnvaldr, or cahara taking up the role of girl's parent/guardian EXCEPT d'arce,,, like ive tried but i feel like throughout the entire dungeon crawling experience she is too out of it to like be a proper parent figure to the girl. not to say she wouldnt take her in if she found her and protect her, i feel like she would, because its funny seeing her take in le'garde's child without knowing it. but either way she'd be too stuck in her own head and her want to reach le'garde as soon as possible/revive him that she wouldnt be able to give her the proper parental love im sure girl yearns for.

ragnvaldr used to have a child, he probably sees his kid in her, and he takes her in not just as some child he found that hed take care of until they got out or until she died, hed see her as HIS child and would truly care about protecting her and not letting anything come her way. she'd feel like a way to make up for the fact that he could not protect his own child and im sure that one day when he realizes shes the child of the man who ruined his life and family, it'll be extra painful.

for cahara, hes already expecting a child on the way, and so whats one more child to pick up and take home too? enough of cahara dying in the dungeon after girl ascends to godhood, he gets his treasure and gets out of there with her. he can give her and his newborn child the best life he possibly could, and i feel like hed definitely raise her as his own child, so his newborn gets an older sister. shes part of his family now!

for enki, hed begrudgingly take her along with him on his path to enlightenment. at first hes not really fond of her, but eventually, realizes he cant just let her go after he gets what he wants! i mean, gods, thats a waste of an assistant, right? as much as he hates admitting it, hes found some sort of fulfillment and contentment in teaching her spells and seeing her do them decently as she follows him around, and nosramus definitely wouldnt let him just sacrifice her or something. so he keeps her. and shes his child now, even though he only says shes his assistant/student.

but for d'arce, as much as i WANT to give her a happy ending where she gets out of the dungeon and live her life with her three weed smoking girlfriends, i feel like that just wouldnt happen. and even if she does care for the girl and keep her safe, its not the maternal sort of way that the girl probably desperately seeks, even if not specifically from d'arce, but from anyone. d'arce cannot stop and think that perhaps it would be better if she and the girl turned around and left the dungeon when she finally gets to le'garde and sees his corpse lying there. no. she absolutely loses her mind. she has to get le'garde back, he had so much left to do and she trusted that he knew what he was doing. and besides, shes never been one for the children. with the work she does as a knight, be it a knight of rondon or a knight with le'garde's group, settling and finding a partner and even having kids felt like a distant reality. even with le'garde, hes always been out of reach for her and she knew that she couldnt have something like this. she's committed to this. because if she does back out, where would she go? she abandoned the knights of rondon and her family for the sake of the knights of the midnight sun and for the sake of le'garde. she cant go back home. she cant give girl the life she deserves outside the dungeon. she digs le'garde out of his grave and lies in it for the sake of everything she chose to leave the life she knew for.

tldr. d'arce i will not allow you to have a happy ending

#REAL long rant. sorry gang #i dont even know what overcame me #this was gonna be a short silly post on how i believe d'arce is the only one who couldnt make for a parent but then it turned longer. whoop #d'arce cataliss #le'garde #ragnvaldr #enki #cahara of the south #cahara #girl fear and hunger #fear and hunger #so sorry if this is straight up incomprehensible chat #i dont even know myself. ok

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juststoriesintheend · 3 months

Text

I. Faith

Chapter Pairing(s): Master Sol x f!Reader

Chapter Content: unrequited feelings, the force, swearing

Word Count: 3,534

《 [series masterlist] 》《 II 》《 III 》《 IV 》

Osha is lost. You know she is strong, capable, that she can take care of herself without issue, but that knowledge doesn’t stop your heart from worrying. She’s suffered so much since the return of her sister, since her past was dredged from the very depths of her heart and brought to light for all to see, that you fear it will lead her to ruin if she isn’t found. You don’t want that for her. You don’t want to see her light fade from the Force. But her disappearance only further solidifies your concerns, sends you pacing the halls of the Polan.

That is how Sol finds you. You sense his presence in the moments before he turns the corner ahead of you, but you actively avoid looking him in the eyes. You know what he’ll say, you know the patient wisdom you will see in his eyes, and you find yourself hoping to avoid it at all costs.

“You are worried.” He doesn’t need to say it, but you find that the sound of his voice is soothing, even when stating the obvious. It soothes the frantic peaks of your anxiety a hair.

“I know.” It is easy to forget yourself, to forget how your emotions extend beyond yourself. He must have been fighting against the onslaught of your thoughts for the past hour, if not the entire flight here. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

The raising of his hand, palm out, halts your apology, but the gentle curve of his smile softens the blow. “You are not the only one. I fear for her safety, as well.” Sol finally bridges the remaining space between you and settles his hand upon your shoulder. Warmth emanates from the point of contact, spiraling down your arm and across your shoulder blade, the familiar, comforting sort of warmth Sol always carries with him. “We will find her,” he says.

I hope so, you think, but you do not voice it. You know what he would say if you did. Hoping to beat him to it, to project the confidence and certainty you wish you had, you echo the sentiment back to him. “I have faith in the Force.”

Sol smiles again, something tender and sweet that crinkles by his eyes. “That is all we need.”

Savareen is a remarkable place, vibrant and wild in ways unlike anything you’ve ever known before. The ocean is blindingly blue, the sand of its beaches dazzlingly bright, and the flowers that dot the inland sand dunes are the most colorful, most delicate purple blossoms this side of the galaxy. It’s a pity, then, that you’re not here to sightsee.

The wind tears at your robes like it tears at your voice, ripping it from your throat the moment you speak it. “There are too many life forms around, I can’t sense her!”

Sol nods. He stows his own scanner at a loop on his belt and reaches out through the Force with you, his arm extended and eyes shut. You follow suit, but not before you take a moment, a fleeting thing, to admire his profile against the shimmer of the sand. When you finally join him, his signature is glowing brightly in the haze of the Force. Tendrils of his essence spread out before you, drifting past and through every dune and rock and streak of grass, Osha’s name the only question he brings with him. Wherever she is, she is beyond either your reach or his. Which is concerning in its own right. Sol’s mastery of the Force is much greater than yours and if he cannot sense her, then she is far away indeed.

“Should we split up?” You struggle up the slope of a particularly steep dune, tripping all over your feet and the sand and the dangling edge of your robes as you go. “Cover more ground?”

“No.” And suddenly, he’s there, his hand at your arm, pulling you up when your feet fail you. “This planet is uncharted, easy to get lost in. We will find her together.”

The peak of this particular dune offers a rather bleak view of the landscape - sand and gravel for as far as you can see, with small mountain peaks in the distance. Some of the valleys nestled between dunes sport streaks of purple where flowers have cropped up, perhaps feeding on water run off when it rains or a water source beneath the surface. But there is no sign of Osha. Defeat burns hot and heavy in your chest, and you wish it didn’t. Savareen is massive, an entire planet’s worth of desert and ocean, and if Osha does not wish to be found, then there is only so much you can do. It worries you that this mission may be one that remains incomplete - forever.

Sol starts for the bottom of this dune, where the flowers crop up among the stones, but he takes his time. The sands shift so easily under his feet that he can only go so fast. You are hesitant to follow.

It takes him a moment, but he stops and turns when he notices you haven’t been following. His eyes squint against the sun. “Your concern for her burns brightly.”

There was never any point in trying to hide it, but you are still frustrated that he read you so easily. “Yes,” you answer, slowly. You try to recenter yourself in the Force before continuing. “But I’m sure if I weren’t so anxious, I would sense the same from you.”

The awkward, tilted smile he offers you in response is confirmation enough. “She needs us. She needs you, and I cannot do this alone.”

No, you don’t suppose he can, not when he embarked on this mission without first clearing it with the Council. Neither of you should be here and you both know it.

The sand shifts quickly and quietly when you take your first step down. You find yourself thanking the Council, the ancestral Jedi, anyone who cares, for the choice to clothe Jedi in tall boots. At least that way your feet aren’t drowning in sand.

“Sol, if you think I’d ever let you do this alone, you’re an idiot.” You slide past him, letting the sand take you where it pleases, but the stunned expression on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. You can feel it, even without the Force. “Osha needs us both. And I, for- ah!”

Your boot lands on a rock, and the sand beneath it gives way to empty air, and in a single moment you’re lurched forward and sent tumbling down the remainder of the dune. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Sol shout your name, but it’s lost to the wind and the rushing of your blood in your ears. This dune is big, but not so big that you have all the free time in the world before you smash your head upon the rocks at its base. You need to act now.

The Force is vast. Even after a lifetime of learning to fold yourself within its weight, it still manages to steal your breath each time you reach for it. This time is no exception. You try to imagine yourself as something very small drifting through something great and soft, something gentle and slow - a drop of water in a tiny brook, a petal skipping over a field of grass - hoping to slow your descent. For a long moment, you’re not sure that it works. You are still falling, the sand still surrounds you, but…

Something in the Force moves. It is a mighty thing that blasts its way past you, though you still can’t tell which way is up or down. Everything is fast and hard, and you’ve decided to come to terms with the fact that you’re probably going to have a very nasty gash somewhere on your body when you finally finish tumbling, until suddenly everything is solid. Your mind still spins, but your body has stopped.

You take a breath. In. Out. You open one eye. There’s a wall of sand before you. You open the other. It’s littered with the broken branches and battered flowers from the blooming bushes you had noticed earlier, but no rocks. No great stones for you to dash your head upon, nothing that might endanger you. Just the violet petals of the Savareen flowers and the faint yellow trail of pollen they leave behind. Your mind reels as you drag yourself into some vaguely comfortable sitting position. Did you do this? You suppose you could have, but summoning a wall of sand to protect yourself hadn’t been your intention.

It’s then that you hear your name on the wind. Sol. Though you’re still dizzy and half dazed, you swing your head in the direction of his voice just in time to see him staggering the last few paces separating you, the sleeves of his robes swinging this way and that as his body dips with each step. He drops to his knees before you, and you find yourself breathless at the gesture.

“Are you alright?” he asks. Already, he’s brought his hands to cup your face, seeking out any injuries with a sort of crackling and frantic energy you have never seen from him. “Are you hurt?”

You nod. “‘m fine. I-I think.”

He wears gloves. You’ve always known this, but it’s a fact that hits you particularly hard now that he is touching you. In the back of your mind, you’ve absently mused on the feel, the scent, the everything about them, though it had never been intentional. Not fully. They are soft, you find. Worn with age and the hilt of a well-loved saber, sanded down until they grow thin at the seams and his warmth seeps through to whatever he happens to be touching.

Sol frowns as he brushes his thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. Electricity shoots down your spine. “You have…”

“What?”

A quick glance down, though, shows streaks of yellow over the white and brown parts of your robes: the pollen. The flowers must have dropped their powder when you fell, or perhaps when Sol summoned enough sand to stop a runaway fathier. Curious, you swipe your finger over your shoulder and sniff it.

“It smells like petrichor,” you muse, and that, for some reason, is enough to make him laugh. You wish he would laugh more often.

“A remarkable observation.” He stands and offers you his hands, watching patiently while you brush the remaining pollen from your clothes. “Come on.”

The wall of sand catches your eye as you move. Before your question can manifest itself, you find yourself drawn to Sol, your gaze, your body, your very essence leaning and leaning until you finally fall into him. It’s possible you’re still a bit dizzy. “Was that you?”

He braces himself against the influx of your weight as his arms come around you, and it strikes you just how soft he manages to be while also staying strong. He smiles that crinkle-eyed smile you have always loved and nods. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, suddenly enraptured by the gentle slope of his jaw and the rich, earthy hue of his eyes as they flicker down, down to the cleave in your robes and the sudden thrumming of your pulse as it leaps from your throat. It strikes you hard, then, that you feel more exposed under the blazing of the sun and your layers of clothing than you ever have before. Startled by this discomforting realization, you scramble out of his arms on wobbly legs. “We should, uh, get going. I don’t want to lose her.”

It’s hot. Far too hot. Savareen is a desert, of course, so the heat is to be expected, but it feels strange this time. You feel strange. Already, you’ve shrugged off the outer layer of your clothes, but your body seems only to grow warmer with each passing moment. It’s awful.

“D’you think we’re any closer?”

Sol’s head tilts in your direction, his expression unreadable. “I have a read on her ship,” he says with a nod to his scanner, “but I still cannot sense her.”

Oh, thank the Force. The sooner you find her, the sooner you can get off this dust bowl and strip out of your clothes to enjoy something cool and refreshing. A real shower, or an endless glass of some chilled, fruity drink that freezes your brain. Even an ice bath sounds appealing. Or a visit to Hoth. Anything, so long as it quenches the fire that’s blazing beneath your skin.

The dunes have evened out into something more walkable - a blessing in its own right. Pebbles and larger rocks pepper the land while the mountains loom ever closer. The sun drifts down toward the softly sloped peaks, and the flowers sway in the wind, and everything feels itchy and tight and utterly unbearable. You cast your attention to Sol and feel completely, irrationally angry watching him exist without being as miserable as you are.

“Aren’t you melting, Sol?” Hands pry at the neck of your robes to loosen them even more, but they come back damp with your own sweat.

He halts, rather than answer. Soft brown eyes - warm, always warm, like a fire in the dead of winter, like the earth heated by the light of the sun - study you without words, without judgment, without a shred of the misery you feel now, and you hate it. You hate it so much that it makes your stomach churn and your thighs ache.

Your mouth parts to fill the empty space he leaves behind. “I swear, this planet’s a fucking sauna. How can you stand it?” You don’t care that you’ve never truly sworn in front of him before. It’s too difficult to keep up appearances right now. You are not the perfect Jedi you’ve always wished him to think of you as, you are hot and you are tired and you want this to be over as soon as possible. “What the hell is she doing out here, anyway? Running? From what? She couldn’t have picked a nicer spot? We’d have a harder time finding her on Coruscant and at least it wouldn’t be so fucking miserable-”

“Are you well?”

It’s his tone that gives you pause. Not once in the past sixteen years has he ever spoken to you like this, like… like there’s something wrong with you, like your very presence offends him. It’s unlike him. And it hurts.

Scowling, you start to lumber past him. “Are you?”

His eyes close and hardly a moment later, you feel a force pressing lightly against your sternum. A Force. His Force.

“Are you studying me?”

Sol’s brow furrows in your direction. “Your mind is clouded, confused,” he says, and he does it with such calm. How is he so damn calm? “What’s wrong?”

He has the audacity to ask you this?

“Look around you! We’re in the middle of a kriffing desert, Sol, and you wanna know ‘what’s wrong’?”

The heat of the sun seems to beam itself directly into your brain. (Something logical in the far reaches of your mind curls in on itself.) You shouldn’t even be here. None of you should. (You’re so angry, screaming inside your skin as this planet boils you alive, and you don’t understand why.) This whole mission is a waste - a waste of time, a waste of your resources, of the bond between you and Osha, between her and Sol. What the hell was she thinking? (Something isn’t right. This isn’t right.)

Sol’s compassion eats through your heart when he looks you in the eye. “I’m worried about her, too, but-”

“She’s an idiot,” you snap, and your vehemence startles even you, though you fight not to show it. (Why are you so angry?)

The irritation that lances through his sigh, through his voice, is a victory, small though it is. “I understand your anger, but it will not help us find Osha.”

He’s right, of course. Some Jedi instinct deep within you knows this to be true.

“Anger is chaos,” he continues. “It burns bright, but it only serves to confuse and to tear apart that which is unified.”

There is no chaos, there is harmony. You learned those words from your own Master, and you have heard them from Sol’s own mouth countless times by virtue of being Osha’s friend all these years.

A memory sparks.

“Center yourself.”

A younger Osha, about twelve and practically vibrating with emotion, sits cross-legged under her Master’s watchful eye. She fidgets, restless and uncertain; you can feel it from the alcove where you linger.

“I can’t,” she says, and you can hear all the things she wishes she could say tied tightly together with a thread of restraint.

Sol almost smiles. “You can.”

He moves to sit across from her, his cloak spread out around him like the tresses of a waterfall. He does it with such grace, so effortlessly. It’s why you can’t help lingering where you don’t belong, watching something that isn’t yours to see.

“You do not need to fear your emotions, Osha. They are not an enemy for you to fight, but an ally that gives you strength.”

Being five years your junior, Osha’s skills with the Force are still young and struggling to flourish in the overgrowth of her past that still haunts her. You remember being her age, how the world around you felt too big to make sense of, how you tried your very best to be a good padawan but always felt lacking. Meditation does not come easy to you either, not even now. Yet you find yourself intrigued by Sol’s approach to the issue. He comes to Osha’s level and meets her where she struggles, he brings warmth and understanding, a patience that runs so deep you wonder if it’s a piece of the Force that threads directly through him.

“It is through our emotions that we can find peace, but only by using the Force as our guide.” Osha nods quietly, her eyelids twitching as she attempts to reconnect herself, but Sol smiles. He always smiles. “Breathe deep. Find me in the Force, Padawan.”

On Savareen, you feel the echo of that memory breeze through you, body and soul. With it comes a peace that is quiet and unassuming, shrouded in Sol’s very essence. He’s reaching out to you, you realize, offering you his hand. Offering you peace.

Find me in the Force.

You are a Knight now. You are not the young child you once were, nor the teen who snuck through the Temple halls in search of mischief. You are better than this, you are above such petty and aggressive means of expression, and Sol knows it as well as you do.

Find me.

There is something that looms large over your heart and mind, something that clouds your judgment in a way unknown to you. Through the Force, you sense it curled up like a predator lying in wait as it courses through your veins. Through Sol’s peace and the calming guidance of his presence, you find that this thing brings fire and passion, that it simmers low in your belly and boils your brain while lashing out at anything that does not bring it satisfaction.

“There’s something in my head,” you say.

“I see it.”

“It hurts.” You hadn’t fully realized it until this moment. “Sol…”

His hand curls around your bicep. It is meant to be a comfort, but all it does is make your body scream. You cry out, half agonized and half electrified, and very nearly fall over, as if his very presence were the source of it all.

The planet seems to swim around you, the sand bleeding into the sky into the mountains into everything and nothing. Desperate for relief, you claw at the hem of your robes until they start falling apart at your chest. Your cloak is long forgotten, the tabard and overtunic ripped off your body and thrown aside, everything is discarded until you find yourself in only your undertunic and trousers. The boots are on very thin ice.

Everything hurts and everything is hot. Wherever your clothing touches you, it burns like a brand, but even in the midst of your desperation you can’t bring yourself to completely strip, not in front of Sol. Not like this. Some final shred of dignity still clings to your consciousness and you won’t allow yourself to bare your body to him. Not when… After all these years, he’s never known. It would kill you if he discovered it now.

You fall to your hands and knees in the sand, panting. “Sol, what’s wrong with me? What’s happening?”

Sol will know. He always knows.

But as you slip onto your stomach, your mind still screaming and your body on the verge of implosion, you catch a glimpse of the Master you’ve loved for the past eight years and all you see on his face is fear. Confusion. Uncertainty.

And then you see nothing at all.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite

#master sol x reader #master sol #the acolyte #star wars #x reader

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y3nze1 · 7 months

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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.2

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Mentions of Blood and Knife, Happy Readings!

"And a song you shall have, Miss Daisy." He spoke sweetly, his voice warm and inviting. He chose a song for her, a love song that was sure to melt her heart. The melody was soft and sweet, and the lyrics were nothing short of poetry. As he played the song, he imagined her listening to it, her eyes closed as she floated away on a sea of emotion. He watched from his window as the moon shimmered in the sky, and he knew that it was going to be a night to remember.

As Alastor began playing the song on the radio, he felt as if his heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't help but wonder what Miss Daisy looked like, what her life was like. He found himself thinking about her constantly, her voice and her kindness stuck in his mind.

Every time she called in with a request, his heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. And each time she asked for a love song, his feelings for her only grew stronger.

Weeks of regular requests from Miss Daisy. It only sparked his curiosity with how devoted she is to listening to his radio show, over and over again.

One night, as he was winding down the show, Alastor received a special request from Miss Daisy, a popular love song at that time. He couldn't believe it. Miss Daisy always had the best taste in music, and this song was no exception.

"This is perfect," Alastor said over the airwaves. "I can't wait to play it for you, Miss Daisy."

As he played the song, his heart raced with excitement. He was sure that Miss Daisy would love it, and he couldn't wait to hear her reaction.

When the song ended, he waited anxiously for Miss Daisy to call back.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Miss Daisy called back. Her voice was soft and nice, and Alastor could feel the gratitude and appreciation in her words.

"That song was incredible, Alastor," Miss Daisy said. "Thank you so much for playing it."

Alastor felt a rush of gratification. He was so glad that he could bring Miss Daisy this much joy and happiness through his music.

As for you, your fingers fiddled through the radio, turning it off, you stared out onto the night's sky. walking to the open balcony, watching the bustling city and it's different shaded light. some dim. some absolutely shining. you huffed to yourself.

With all of a sudden, The phone rang. ultimately, you picked it up. with Loralie on the other line, you were filled with glee as she gladly muttered out your name.

"Y/n, Darlin.. We're gonna be home tomorrow by 9, could you prepare the breakfast for me n' lewis, sugarplum?" she exclaimed. the sounds of bags and object clangs emitted in the background. you hummed in response, taking responsibility for making the breakfast by the time they came home. "Thank you darlin, take care okay? you yap all about your week when we come home, alright, okay.. tata moonpie~" with that, she dropped the call. you sighed, contented of finally not being alone.

You were content as the sounds of Loralie's voice faded away. You had been feeling a little bit alone lately, and her call had brought you a sense of comfort and connection. Finally, you laid in bed, drifting off to sleep.

The next day went by, the sunlight slowly creeping the room, You began to prepare breakfast for her and her boyfriend, You wanted to make them something special, something that would make them feel welcomed and appreciated.

You spent the next few minutes preparing everything, getting the ingredients for the breakfast that you knew they loved the most. You cooked up some scrambled eggs, fried some bacon, and toasted some bread. You even whipped up a batch of pancakes from scratch.

When everything is ready, you put the food on a plate and set it on the table. You sat down on the couch and waited nervously for them to arrive.

Finally, the sound of keys jangling in the door echoed through the apartment. Lorilie and her boyfriend walked in, both looking weary from a long day of traveling. "Y/n, Darling, i missed ya! utterly missed ya.." she pulled you into a tight hug, setting down her headdress onto the sofa. along with the bags. she glanced over the breakfast filled table, pulling Lewis, Her boyfriend over.

"Make sure you both eat a lot.." you muttered seating on the opposite side of the two. taking a munch of the pancakes, sighing in delight as you did. You felt a sense of accomplishment and happiness at having done something nice for someone else. For a few seconds of chewing, Lewis glanced over his wrist watch, eyes widening of the time.

"Loralie.. Y/n.. i-i'm afraid i need to get going" he frantically muttered, standing up from his seat, grabbing his coat while Loralie followed behind. "Lewis! you haven't finished breakfa-" she was cut off with a kiss he planted on her cheek before leaving. she sighed. watching him leave the place, Loralie hurriedly ran over to the balcony, calling out to him. "Lewis! make sure to call me when you get home!" she exclaimed, waving her hands as he left.

"Well, he seems busy.." you spoke up, calmly taking a bite of the food on your plate. Loralie then headed over to you, placing her chair beside you. as for the next few hours. she told all the wonderful things that went on during their vacation. "Well then we went for a joy ride, and good golly, that's all of it." she then turned to you, smiling. "What about you, Dear?, What did you do all week?"

You felt a sense of warmth and comfort as Loralie began to talk about her vacation. You listened intently, enjoying the sound of her voice as she described all of the beautiful places they had visited. You could tell that she was truly excited about the trip, and you were happy that she had a good time.

You thought for a moment before replying, "To be honest, I'm not sure what went by or happened.. This week was kind of a blur." You let out a small laugh, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I think I spent most of my time listening to the radio and reading books."

She paused for a moment. grinning. "Let me guess, you kept on requesting songs from Alastor.. did you? y/n? or should i say.. 'Miss Daisy'." she let out a chuckle. patting your back softly. "Well, i did, but it was for a good cause! I am a loyal listener. okay?" you happily spoke up. fiddling with the fork on your empty

You couldn't help but smile at Loralie's teasing comment. You knew that you were a loyal listener, but you didn't think that anyone else noticed. It was a little embarrassing, but also flattering that someone else had picked up on it.

"I just...I love his voice, and the way he plays his music. It makes me feel...calm, I guess." You shrugged, feeling a little silly for having such strong feelings about a radio host. Loralie laughed. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that, moonpie, well, I think it's rather sweet of you. I'm sure the guy appreciates having such a loyal listener like you." She gave you a comforting pat on the back before getting up to clear the table.

"Well, he has dozens of listeners too, and you know.. err" Loralie placed a finger on your lips. hushing you for a moment. "There's no room to be so humble, darlin" she laughed. grabbing the empty plates, placing it on the sink. patting her hands dry after.

The night went by as always, like a blur. Alastor sat there, With his blood stained hands, dripping down arms, onto his gleaming white fabric. His button up also stained with the red liquid. He hummed along the tune he played on the radio. Taking in the pleasure of his loneliness in the studio. The telephone rang, echoing across the room.

He placed the coated knife onto the table beside him. His hand reached the device, picking it up. bringing it up to his ear. he cooed, answering the call. "You have reached Alastor Altruist! From New Orleans, Louisiana, Welcome to my Broadcast.. and who might be on the other end of this pleasant call?"

The voice at the other end of the line was soft, almost hauntingly sweet. "Alastor, it's me again… Daisy." The caller's voice was familiar to Alastor, and he felt a twinge of excitement course through his veins. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

"Daisy, it's always a pleasure to hear from you," Alastor said, keeping his voice calm and steady. "What can I do for you tonight?"

"Oh, just a request for a song," Daisy said, her voice like music to Alastor's ears. "I hope it's not too much trouble?"

"Of course not, darling. I'd be delighted to play any song you'd like," Alastor replied, his mind already racing with possibilities. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "What song would you like to hear tonight?"

"I'd like the 'April Showers by Al Jolson'" she softly giggled. "April Showers," Alastor repeated, his voice smooth and clear. "That's a wonderful choice, Daisy. I'm sure our listeners will enjoy it just as much as I will." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I'll make sure to play it just for you, darling," he said, his voice filled with a hint of amusement.

With that, he finally played the song. grabbing a clean cloth to wipe the blood off of his arm. along with the once plastered on his face. After he dropped the call. he muttered.

"Keep calling me, Beautiful Stranger.."

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor altruist #human!alastor x reader #human!alastor #radio demon #1920s #Human!Alastor x You

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wordsaresimple-imnot · 5 months

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That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

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kentopedia · 9 months

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 6.3k words

PART IV ♰ MASTERLIST

The next evening came quickly, and for the first time in a long while, you were able to sleep through the day. Morning came and went, and the sun faded away without you lying awake, miserable, missing the light of day.

Although Dazai emitted no warmth, you still slept soundly on his chest, the feeling of his arms around you comforting in a way that was undeniable.

When you awoke to another starry sky, clouded over by a mist of smoke, the coffin was empty, and Dazai was gone. The thin blanket pooled at your feet, kicked aside, there for no other reason but for the semblance of a routine where you slept wrapped within soft covers. A beam of light sifted through the cracked coffin, lid pushed to the side, allowing the silver moonlight to caress you gently back to an air of life.

Sitting up, you pushed the coffin lid aside, swallowing the wave of regret that swam through your body. Atsushi’s gentle smile lit up your mind, and you shut your eyes briefly, trying to will it away.

This was a mistake—everything had been a mistake from the moment you’d found Dazai in that bar. It was a mistake to ever think you could drink from him without letting him drag you down with him. Never had you been able to deny yourself the indulgence of his lips, the taste of him so fond in your memories, and you’d been naïve to think this time would be different.

“You slept like the dead,” Dazai said with a cheeky smile, sauntering over to sit at the edge of the bed, staring at you from feet away. Your lips drew together, thin, unamused.

The shift in the air was palpable, the string of oxygen between you pulled tight. Though, you were grateful that Dazai was the one to break the silence, as you still mulled over something to say, observing the subtle little changes in his countenance.

For one, you couldn’t recall a time that he had ever looked so happy, so carefree. A brightness had resumed itself, as if only on pause for half of a century, erasing the resentment, the bitter hatred that had clouded it. The smile on his dark lips tugged upward easily, his eyes an ambered brown, rather than the black that they had once been.

Things were different—that much was certain. Whatever had transpired between the two of you couldn’t be erased, nor could you eradicate the guilt that had threatened to swallow you whole. The two options clashed against each other; a loss too great on both sides. At the end of it all, your feelings for both Atsushi and Dazai were overwhelming, and complicated.

But you couldn’t think, not when Dazai was so close. Not when you were a moth, and he was the flame, burning bright, and only growing more vicious.

“I need to go home,” you said, gathering your shoes, the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

A beat of silence lingered in the room, settling on the hardwood floors, the soles of your feet, before Dazai stood, his footsteps not making a single sound.

“After all that?” Dazai asked, and though he would never let his surprise show so openly, you knew he’d believed you’d been won over.

That’s all it would’ve taken, back then—a few sweet words, your lips on his, gentle hands across your skin. But you were not the woman you’d once been, and though you were still weak, you’d developed some strength.

“After everything, how can you still doubt that we are meant to be together?”

You pinched your face together, wondering if you were a fool for running back to Atsushi. If your love for the mortal man was only a means to an end, a way for you to forget the clutch that another vampire had around your heart. How Dazai’s fingers could squeeze their way around your arteries, and you would watch, blindly, as the blood trickled down his palm.

Was it love or hate you felt? Of both, you were uncertain.

“Osamu,” you said, shaking your head, your gaze drifting towards the window. What a mess you’d made. “I need some time to think.”

That relaxed him; the tautness of his frame slowly began to melt away. “Time.” He nodded, dark hair falling over even darker eyes. “Okay. I can give you that.”

“I love him, Osamu.”

“You love me too. You can deny it all you want, but I know that you do.”

You looked over at him, blinking from under your lashes. “I don’t know what I feel for you. It was not so long ago that you destroyed me. I have hated you as strongly as I once loved you.”

His face twitched, fingers flexing at his sides. The age old tells of his anger, just as prevalent as the stars in the sky, never ceasing to appear at the end of every day. “Will you never forgive me?” he asked, clenching his jaw, tongue appearing in his cheek. “I have given you everything I have to offer. Your life… my life.”

“You haven’t given me patience, Osamu. You haven’t given me the chance to believe that your love is worth the pain that comes with it.”

Dazai looked away, chest rising and falling with the air he didn’t breathe, but made himself anyway, keeping up the appearance of a human being. He had always been so much better at that – perhaps it was the reason he had lived this long. No one had doubted his place in the world, had mistaken him for a monster, unlike the innocent lives that had been lost to such a slaughter.

“Is patience really something I can offer when you are to wed another? Surely your fiancé will grow weary of waiting,” he said, stepping closer, expression serious, devoid of his usual smugness. “You want time, but it is slipping through my fingers.”

“You have nothing left but time.” You shook him off, ignoring the pulsating need that thrummed through your body, never satiated, always wanting more. Your gaze flicked to his vein, then away, as you pushed past him, headed to the door. “Don’t come after me. I will not give you any more chances.”

Dazai said nothing, irritated, but he let you go, and you escaped into the dark haze of the midnight.

Your meetings with Dazai stalled for a few days, as Atsushi returned, and you were left with a muddled mind and a mix of contradicting thoughts. It was best anyway, you figured, to put some distance between you and Dazai, in order for you to work out exactly what it was that was going on.

Despite the conflict you felt within yourself—for wanting to love Dazai once more, for wanting to hate him—you didn’t entirely trust him. Years of memories pointed to a Dazai that was so similar, yet vastly different from the version he presented to you. One that was just as manipulative, conniving, yet held a loyalty and a steadfast love for you that had since been unbroken.

Though, love was easily faked, especially for someone like Osamu. You, with your weak heart, were probably falling right into his trap. How foolish you would be to leave a perfectly good life behind for a man that you could never fully trust, despite how much you yearned for him.

Yet, he never left your mind, always lingering like a curse. Some part of you wondered if there was a deeper magic at play, if maybe, the bond between you as creation and maker had tied you so intricately together than you would always long for him.

But you knew nothing of that…if magic existed outside of the bloodsucking demons that you had joined, if there was a world out there of other supernatural entities you knew nothing about.

Still, it would explain nearly all of your everlasting woes. How Dazai could fuck up time and time again, and you would still crawl back to him, albeit reluctantly. How you craved his blood like a brainless addict, sacrificing your pride for just another hit.

You hoped, if even a little bit, that that was true. At least, that way, you could explain your desperation for him without it being something as complex as love. Something that you could avoid, if you really tried, rather than letting yourself indulge, thinking that you couldn’t help it.

It was cold when Atsushi returned, the weather already growing fickle as autumn bled into winter. He looked better, his eyes brighter, his skin less pale than it had been when he left. His hair seemed freshly scrubbed, clean from a bath at whatever hotel he’d visited for the few nights of escape.

Though, under his softer complexion, you could see the weight that still rested on Atsushi’s shoulders, and the burden that he’d worn for the past few weeks.

Smiling, you watched as he walked through the door, trudging in his heavy boots. There was certainly more life to him now, now that he wasn’t constantly sent on missions, awake for hours into the evening, until his eyes ran bloodshot.

“I missed you,” you said, stretching your arms over to him, body reacting to him, just as it did Dazai. The joy that spread across you was warm, despite the lack of utter feeling that something lingered in your chest.

Atsushi relaxed, then, tension falling from his shoulders. Almost like he’d expected you to start the conversation a different way – a thought that you instantly sequestered.

“I missed you too, honey,” Atsushi said, leaning down to peck your lips, his hair brushing across your forehead. “Everything okay while I was gone?”

Words of a dutiful husband, lover, friend – despite that fact that anyone who could have possibly hurt you wouldn’t be fazed by the presence of a human.

“Everything’s been fine,” you hummed, ignoring the vision of you on Dazai’s thighs that flashed into your mind, your teeth digging into the flesh of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

Atsushi looked at you for a moment longer, memorizing each of your features after just a few days away, and put on a gentle smile. His fingers grazed the sharp hollows of your cheeks, the coldness of your skin sending a shiver down his arm. Goosebumps trailed along his flesh, the hair standing straight up, but he didn’t seem bothered. Not after two years of the same routine.

“I’m better.” The words held little conviction, though, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was something bothering him still.

Or you were just paranoid that he had somehow found out you were protecting Dazai.

Protecting.

Was that the word? You’d been trying to protect Atsushi, hadn’t you? By keeping him away from Dazai. Yet, the more you lingered on it, the more you began to question if that was even the case at all.

Atsushi kissed the wrinkle that formed on your forehead, and you held his hand tightly against your cheek, grounding yourself. How much better things would be if Dazai had left in the first place, if he’d just stayed far away, and never approached you at your party. Had never killed anyone in your town, overworking your partner and murdering your neighbors.

“I’m glad,” you said, instead of focusing on things that could’ve been. You brushed Atsushi’s hair away from his face, his hair so much softer than you remembered—cleaner. “You look better. I’m glad you were able to get some rest.”

“Yeah, well,” Atsushi sighed, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much of a difference it made. I’ll just be heading back into work tomorrow. They’ve found more bodies, I hear. I’m sure I’ll just be back to where I was before soon. Everyone’s exhausted.”

You frowned again, pausing your gentle caress against the back of Atsushi’s palm. So that was what was wrong with him. You’d been so busy with Dazai, that you hadn’t even stopped to think that he was still killing people. It seemed you’d been caring for little other than yourself, these days.

“Good thing they’ve got their best detective back, then,” you said, trying for a more light-hearted tone. “I’m sure you’ll be able to solve this in no time, Atsushi.”

Still, he seemed unconvinced—but he kissed your forehead one more time, relaxing. He left you, then, to change out of his day clothes before sliding back into bed. It had been days since you’d last fed off of Dazai’s blood, but you didn’t feel so reckless, so hungry, that this sort of proximity left you with an aching need to bite Atsushi. Instead, you felt warm, consoled by his presence, and reminded of how gentle you could be, despite your nature.

“I love you,” you said quietly, as he slowly began to drift off, his breathing turning into a snore. “I hope you never forget it.”

A little laugh left him, but something about it seemed nervous—had you really left Atsushi to doubt your affection for him? Though, after all the things you’d done, you probably deserved that sort of karma.

“I know,” Atsushi said, humming, squeezing your hand under the covers. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that I’m certain of.”

The memory of Atsushi’s words left a sour taste in your mouth that lingered as you slept through the day, a palpable anger tensing your body. The rage ran rampant through you from all of Dazai’s lies, promises that he had not kept. At the truth that he’d admitted before – that everything he’d done was to keep Atsushi occupied and away from you.

Dazai was not at the bar when you went the next night, and Atsushi worked late, still out when you left your home after sundown. And when you returned, with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by the gutter rats, your fiancé slept, soundly, hardly alert enough to hear your footsteps against the creaky floors.

You sat in the corner of the room, staring at the cracks of moonlight that brightened into orange rays, wishing once more that you could brush your fingertips along them, if only for a moment, to remember what it was like to be alive.

The routine continued. Anger consumed you, but Dazai didn’t return to the bar the next night. Or the night after that.

“Are you eating enough?” Atsushi had said that morning, the sixth day that you had gone without Dazai’s blood. You’d become irritable, snapping at him over the smallest things.

Digging your nails into your arm, the scarlet warmth dripping down to your elbow as you tried to distract yourself from the thrumming through Atsushi’s veins, you’d nodded and changed the subject.

You knew that you looked awful, and your promises were not believed by Atsushi. Your faded complexion was ghastly, inhuman. How easy it would be to give yourself away to others, for them to see that your humanity and morality was but a farce – it was much too obvious now, that you walked around looking like you’d just crawled out of the grave.

Dazai did not show up at the bar again, and desperately, you went to his hotel, hopeful that he had not moved.

It was loud outside of the building, despite nearing midnight. A crowd of drunk men loitered outside of the building, cheering their glasses together. They sang a plethora of songs in untuned keys, stumbling over their feet to get to one another. Women lined the streets, silk dresses with revealing necklines, smiling for men who would never be able to deserve them.

Despite the scene outside, the hotel was relatively quiet, many of the tenants asleep for the night. The clerk at the front desk seemed unbothered that you waltzed in, already headed towards the stairs, without bothering to speak with him.

You had been in such a disoriented state the last time you’d been here that you’d forgotten to look around, take in the atmosphere of the hotel. It was, really, a miracle that you’d even found your way there.

It wasn’t much on the outside, modest and unassuming, and the interior was anything but. Bright colors of gold and green that you only vaguely remembered from your previous visit adorned the inside, leather couches circling a vast library of books. A pair of older men, smoking cigars, fumbled over a game of chess, their shadowy eyes revealing that they were both desperate to call it quits. A young woman, perhaps the same age that you’d been when you died, perched in a chair, wearing a beautiful gown of rose pink, soothed a crying infant.

It was certainly with its’ grandeur, though that was to be expected, with the centuries of wealth Dazai had lining his pockets. You couldn’t imagine he’d stay anywhere less than impressive.

The man at the desk smiled at you in recognition, and you realized that you must have spoken to him when you’d last been here – or, Dazai had told him to let you pass if you were to come. Just another way you’d fallen into his trap, an endless scheme that was nothing more than a game to him. You were being played, not the other way around.

Still, you trudged up the stairs like a wounded soldier, surrendering. The rage had settled deep within your chest, flattening. Even with the betrayal that encompassed your memories of Dazai, you would always turn into a different sort of person when you were hungry.

Before you could regret your actions, you knocked on the door, once, then again, running your hands along the smooth skin of your forearms. There was a noise from inside, a soft sort of giggle, before the door opened, revealing Dazai, eyes dark, but a smile on his face, nonetheless.

“There you are,” he said, closing his fingers around your wrists, pulling you through the threshold before anyone could see you. He seemed to be clouded over with affection, or lust—but of which, you weren’t certain. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

He kissed you, then, soft, and gently, the way that Atsushi greeted you when you returned home. It was too loving, the quick peck of Dazai’s lips, and you scowled, drawing backwards, the irritation resurfacing.

“Osamu,” you said, sharply, creating a clear division between you and him. “I told you –”

But the words died on your lips when you glanced behind him, noticing the pretty, young woman that was perched on the end of the bed. She laughed again, cheeks flushed red under her tanned skin, dark hair flat across her shoulders. The woman gave you a small little wave, not in the slightest embarrassed, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

You blinked, drawing your gaze slowly away from her, back to Dazai, who was still grinning, teeth glinting in the moonlight, predatory and wicked. His expression was a clear vision of all the reasons you should have stayed far away from him, why what little trust you had for him would continue to rise and fall, until you’d gone so many steps backwards that you would be right where you had been.

“What—” But you stopped yourself, trying to gather the right words, to not sound like a jealous fiend, while still demanding answers.

Dazai, to his credit, and all of his promises that things were different this time, did not give you a chance to finish your sentence. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said, gesturing back towards her, before licking his lips. “I’m not… Not like that.”

You stared at him; eyes hard as you searched for a lie. But he’d always been so talented at dishonesty, and you had never been very good at sorting the truth out of fraudulence. “Then what is it? You’re bringing your dinner back to your room now, for no reason? How do you plan to get rid of the body, Osamu? You’re going to have to leave, you know. Someone could see.”

Though, that thought should’ve made you happier, you realized that you almost sounded disappointed, that you were helping him, when you’d been telling yourself to expel him from your city for months.

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m certainly not worried about any of the detectives in this town,” he said, the jab at your fiancé not going unnoticed. “I’ve thrown them off my trail enough times at this point.”

You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself in protection as Dazai led you forward, a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Besides, she’s not for me, darling.”

The words took a moment to sink in, as you stared at the woman, so peaceful, unassuming, despite everything that she’d clearly heard. You could hear her heart beating under her skin, the color in her cheeks so bright and warm, nothing even close to death. Long breaths escaped her, and she smiled at you, so sweetly, that for a moment, you were considering –

Before the reality of the situation dawned upon you, and you jerked out of Dazai’s hold, away from the young woman, and slapped your former lover across the cheek.

The sound resounded through the room, but the force did little to even jerk his cheek. He stayed still, amused, and held your wrist loosely in his palm once more. “Would you listen—”

“I don’t feed off humans anymore,” you said, your words sharp, eyes narrowed angrily. “I promised myself two years ago that I would not, and I have been true to my word. Yet, here you are, the vilest creature I have ever set my sights upon, trying to lead me back down a road that leads to nothing but emptiness.”

Dazai blinked, before erupting into a fit of laughter. “A tad dramatic, even for you, my love. This is but a manifestation of your very nature as a vampire.” His gaze drew across your features, the way your hunger was evident in the curl of your fangs over your lips, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from lunging at the poor woman. “You cannot deny the hunger that you feel—”

“It’s wrong, Osamu,” you spat bitterly, thinking of your mortal fiancé back home, who would not deserve this sort of end. How easily he could’ve been the one lured to the wolves’ den by Dazai, sitting on the bed of a vampire, none the wiser to the fact that he was to be someone’s dinner. “I was once a human too, was I not?”

Dazai laughed once more, mocking you, this time. For clinging onto the little bit of humanity that you had left, even after all this time. “As was I. But how long has it been since you were human?”

You said nothing.

Dazai crept closer, eyes like a hawk, so sharp and pointed along every line of your body. They flashed a deep ebony, drowning out the sweet caramel colors that always lingered in his irises. “You have always deluded yourself, and you continue to do so.” His fingers were back against your cheek, like long, protruding icicles, against even your icy flesh. “You feel so much better when I’m the one doing the killing, that you can’t see that drinking from me is just as bad as doing the killing yourself.”

Your jaw slackened, falling open, and, despite your better judgement, you let him draw his fingertips across your lips, softly smiling at the delicate feeling of them. “What do you mean?”

“I kill twice as many humans to keep up with your ever-increasing appetite. You might as well have done the deed on your own.” Dazai drew the words out, bored, waving his hand dismissively. And though you had to have known that, could feel in the deepest depths of your soul that that was true, you’d been all too happy to ignore it.

To continue on believing that your choice to use him as a blood source was for the benefit of not only you, but the humans you refused to kill, to bleed to death.

Dazai pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the feeling of his lips, a touch so sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. “You can feed from her without killing her,” he said, drawing you closer and closer to the woman, though you felt stiff as your regret whirled under your skin. Dazai held you to his chest, and you let him, basking in the familiar touch, the familiar hatred and love baked into one emotion that had always confused you.

“You won’t stop me,” you said, mouth moving, though the words didn’t entirely feel your own. You stared at the girl over Dazai’s shoulder, who seemed in a drunk daze, Dazai’s manipulation working against her. “You’ll say you will, but you’re a liar, Dazai.”

“I will. I’ve stopped you before, haven’t I?” he pulled back, meeting your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You began to object, to remind him of how little his promises meant to you, but you could feel the hunger multiplying, it’s claws deep inside of you. It felt like a physical force on its own, and you couldn’t remember a time when you had been so at its mercy, except when you were first reborn, a foolish child with Dazai’s blood coursing through your veins.

And though you wanted to hate him, to blame him for all of your troubles, to call him nothing but a deceiver, you wondered if he really had been telling the truth. If all your years of rejecting human blood had turned you back into the version of yourself that you had not been in a century, of a young vampire who had no control in the face of human blood.

“I’m stronger than you,” Dazai said, following the line of thought in your head, swiping his fingers across the wrinkle there. “It will help you. You won’t crave my blood so often.”

“It won’t taste as good.”

Dazai laughed at the small pout that puckered on your lips, and though you had meant to only think the words, they slipped out anyways. He kissed the frown away, startling you, and yet, you kissed him back, if only for a moment.

“I know it won’t, sweetheart.” Dazai licked his own lips, savoring the taste of you that remained. “But it’ll be better than those rats you’ve been eating, won’t it?”

Always so persuasive, that sharp tongue of his. How easily he could get you to cave with the promise of something so divine, and the lustful glint that coiled in his eyes. You held onto the single shred of morality that was slowly dissipating as you contemplated his sincerity. Then, you let it go, released, and nodded.

Satisfaction curled across Dazai’s expression, and he pulled you over to the bed, the woman, blinking up at you from under her thick lashes. She smiled, almost playful, and another giggle escaped her. “She’s prettier than you promised.”

Dazai, eyes glued to you, softened. “Isn’t she? There’s no one else quite like her.”

For all your resentment towards Dazai, you felt the curl of warm satisfaction spread across your chest, and you glanced away bashfully, hating how he still looked at you with such love. How hard it was getting, every day, to ignore the fact that, maybe, everything he did really was for you and you alone.

“Sit beside her, my love,” Dazai said, leading you to one side of the bed, guiding you into a seated position. Your knees brushed against the human’s, and she pressed it closer, tilting her head away to expose the vein that protruded along her neck.

“Osamu—” you said, glancing up at him with doubt. “I will kill her if you don’t stop me.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t stop me, I will hate you forever.”

His smile widened, a grimace almost, but he acknowledged that with a nod, and waved his hand, urging you to continue.

You dragged your gaze away from him, back to the impatient woman, who was far too excited for you to slowly drain the life from her. She placed a soft hand on your thigh, the warmth seeping through your skirt, a reminder of the life she had swirling in her veins.

It was enough to propel you forward, and you breathed along her collarbone, ignoring the annoying pang of your heart that wished it was Dazai instead. Your fangs sunk into her neck, and the blood rushed along your tongue, down your throat, a flash of white snapping across your vision.

The thoughts drained from your mind, and you were no longer inside yourself, losing your senses in the sensation of the blood, and how warm it felt in your mouth as it settled in your body. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, and you dragged her closer, hearing a soft little moan leave her mouth as you sucked your lips harder.

It was nowhere near the exhilarating rush of Dazai’s blood, but it was warmer, more satisfying, similar to the fullness you’d received after eating a slab of red meat as a human. You weren’t tethered to the girl like you were your maker, but it was different getting the fresh human blood from the source.

You felt stupid, silly, for always rejecting the need to drink from mortals, when you could remember how good it felt. That was all it would take for you to not feel so empty, day in and day out, only longing for the days when you had never cared at all. It seemed nothing more than a daydream – those days when you were just as bad as Dazai, who had always killed and enjoyed it.

“Enough, my darling,” Dazai said, pinching your jaw, slowly coaxing you off of the woman, careful not to tear her throat while your teeth still latched on.

You tried to push him away, a deep sound reverberating in the back of your throat, but Dazai thrust his slit wrist in front of you, the smell overwhelming, better than the scent of the woman’s sweet blood and perfume.

“I have something better,” he smiled, running his hand over the top of your head as he stood before you, looking far too godly in the silver moonlight. “And I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer, too busy swallowing the large gulps you had taken of his blood, softly kissing the skin that had broken there. Your nails curled into his forearm, pulling him close as his palm rested on the top of your head, fingertips lightly scratching against your scalp.

“Dazai—” the girl began, and though you were irritated that he’d even told her his name, the blood soothed you as it rushed down your throat.

“Thank you for your generosity, my dear.” Dazai said to her, in that deep, soothing voice of his that he used to compel humans. “You won’t be needed any longer. Go downstairs and forget any of this evening even happened.”

In a trance, the woman left, woozy, still full of laughter as she stumbled across the floor. Her hair had fallen from the clips, dress strap slipping off her shoulder, but Dazai didn’t bother to tell her. Instead, when you came off of his wrist, a gasp expelling from your lungs, Dazai pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you, kissing all over your face.

Your eyes shot wide for just a moment, before you relaxed into him, threading your fingers through his hair, let him taste his own blood on your mouth. His tongue darted across your bottom lip, swiping the blood that had gathered there, before he moaned, the sound a vibration against your skin.

“Fuck,” he said, coaxing your hands from his scalp, pinning them to the bed. You could feel him straining against his pants, his clothed cock brushing up against your thigh. “The things you do to me.” Dazai kissed up your neck, across your jaw, lacing your fingers together. A soft sigh left you, and you let your head rest delicately on the bed. “I love you,” he whispered, just beneath your jaw, words so gentle that you began to believe them.

You glanced up as he backed away, hair falling down over his forehead as he stared at you, caressing your cheek. The haze of his blood still consumed you, but you felt so light under his hold, like the burdens of your entire life could fade away entirely from his touch. “Osamu,” you began, kissing his fingertips, though the smile didn’t pull entirely on your face, too uncertain.

He sighed, and then sat up, his knees still on either side of your hips, a frown furrowing his features. You crawled out from under him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, before he pushed you back, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” you said, reaching for him, even as he evaded your grasp.

Dazai sat at the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, expression vacant. He didn’t answer your question immediately, and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You laughed, dizzy, as you crawled over to him. “What do you mean, Osamu?”

But once again, he evaded your touch, standing, stalking to the other side of the room, holding only a loose rope on his anger. “I miss you. So badly. I want you; I love you, but I don’t know how to make you come back to me.” He glanced at you, and you could see the hurt in his expression, before he sat at the table, arms crossed over his chest. “My blood… does that to you, and it makes me think that maybe, things can go back to the way they were before.” He sighed, dropping his head. “Instead, everything I do just seems to make you hate me more.”

You blinked, feeling discarded on the bed, and you slumped forward, before making your way to your feet. Your dress had wrinkled, and you smoothed it back out, straightened the straps, fixed your hair. Still, Dazai wouldn’t look at you, and you were struck by his vulnerability, the earnestness in his expression. “I just—” you began, but you had no idea where you were planning to take that statement, too focused on the cloudiness that lingered in his gaze. “Osamu…”

“Go home,” he said, jaw clenched, before he looked up at you, his features schooled into another neutral position. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

You frowned, fingers tensing at your sides before you relaxed them. “That’s not fair.”

Dazai glared. “What’s not fair is the fact that you only want me when I give you my blood. What’s not fair is me loving you with every ounce of my being, for centuries, only to find you again with a human. What’s not fair is—”

“You’re not innocent, Osamu,” you said quietly, lip quivering as you tried to think rationally, but you just couldn’t. Every part of you was pulsing with need for him, and though it had never been a problem when you were together, it was a problem now. “You hurt me. I’m trying. I don’t know how to forgive you, but at least I’m trying.”

He stared back at you, an entire minute passing before he spoke again. “You have always been the same as me. Always as awful as you want to claim I am,” he said lowly, sniffing back his indignation. “Every horrible thing I’ve done, you’ve done too. The blood on my hands is on yours also. For every woman I took to bed, you took twice as many men.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, aching, as you looked away. “You left me to die, Osamu. You left me. The vampire hunters came for us, and –”

“God,” he laughed, darkly, shaking his head. “Even now, you don’t believe a word I say. You think, I would’ve left you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“They told me you were dead. Everyone. I came back for you, but you were already gone. I mourned you for decades. And now I’ve found you again…” Dazai trailed off, realizing that you were staring at him curiously, the feeling of drunkenness slowly evaporating from your conscious. “You know what… It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” A bitter laugh came out of your throat. “You never tell me anything,” you said pointedly, hugging yourself tightly and turning away. “Every time I think I understand you, we take one hundred steps backwards.”

He glared, jaw tight, though fleetingly. The tension smoothed back out, and he sat tall, looking bored, and annoyed by your very presence. “Would it make a difference?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’ll continue to hate me, just because it’s easier.”

You blinked, lips parting briefly before you decided not to even argue with him. Around and around you’d go, at the end of the day, talking each other in circles until you’d gotten so lost, you couldn’t even remember where the conversation had started. “I suppose.”

“Then you better go home. The sun will start to rise soon. I don’t think you’ll want to spend another night here.”

For a moment longer, you watched him, waiting for any slight change in his expression—and when there was none, you turned, and headed towards the door. As you pulled it shut behind you, escaping into the dim hallway, you took one look back at the old vampire, the man you didn’t want yourself to love. But he was ignoring you, easily, his gaze fixated on a point on the opposite side of the room.

You frowned and let the door latch shut.

PART V

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @cheriiyaya @iluv-ace @kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @flourescentadolescent1 @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @chosos-mascara @lacunaanonymousd @vljiki @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer

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allmcl · 9 months

Note

hi!! do you also write for armin (separately)? ive been craving some armin content for a while and i found your account, your writing is so amazing, and i was wondering if you'd write something where candy and armin arent back together yet in UL and, after a night in the snake room with alexy, rosa, priya and the others, armin decides to fight for her love not knowing he doesn't need to fight for it since she's head over heels for him

STILL HERE │ Armin Keenan.

When a reunion with an old love reminds Armin of everything they experienced together, he decides that after so much time, it's now or never that he should get you back.

pairing('s). armin keenan x f!reader

genre. fluff, angsty.

content wanings. mentions of breakup, alcohol consuming, cursing, kissing, suggestive themes.

author's note. MISSED THIS BOY SO MUCH DURING UL, hope you like this!! (tysm for requesting, sorry it took so long!) AND BTW, i found like a lot of lastnames and i decided for this one (not sure if is the canon one ://)

I was sure that my return to the city would be harder. After all, I couldn't blame anyone for being angry with me. If one of my friends just left, without even saying goodbye, I wouldn't be happy either. But, luckily for me, they had a much better reaction than I expected.

At the moment, I only saw Rosa and Melody. Although perhaps I didn't know how to show it at the time, having seen them after so long squeezed my heart so much that I still feel my emotions on the surface.

To tell the truth, I'm scared. Although I used to seeing eachother very often in high school, whether to go out for a drink or just to walk around the city, this is not high school anymore. And it's now, when I'm getting ready to go out, that I feel like I'm getting ready in my old room to go shopping with the them. The phone vibrates, and brings me out of my melancholic thoughts.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, the screen glows with a notification from Alex.

Alex…

I refrain from further worries and simply read it from the preview.

"[Y/NNN]??? we are waiting for youuuu"

"Years waiting to see you, and you still late🙄"

I smiled wistfully. I know he says it jokingly, but the guilt is real. But that's not important now, because it's once and for all my time to fix that, and to get back on track with my life here. I type a quick, “on my way,” before pocketing my phone and heading out the door to my campus room. Although the phone rings again, I don't bother checking it and I hurry to arrive on time.

I look at the time on the screen: "11:48." I curse under my breath. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm lost, and that even though I've been wandering around on the same street for more than twenty minutes, I still can´t find the bar. On the other hand, who would think of inviting someone to a place and not sending the address?

When I start to stress again, I recognize a voice in the distance that I would recognize anywhere. It's Alex. I follow the sound, although I don't pay attention to what it says, none of it matters when I see it. His eyes light up and he falls silent immediately. As I expected, he almost hugged me to the ground. Rosa also briefly joined our hug, smiling as she watched us interact.

"Finally!" He screeches in my ear, and although it dazes me a little I laugh out loud. "I missed you like crazy…" He whispered to me, and I had to separate myself for a moment to not burst out crying in my place.

"I missed you, Alex.." I sighed, but he seemed to notice my mood, changing the subject slighlty.

"You´re back, all that matters." He jokes, and I smile. "I hope you're ready for the surprise then."

I raise an eyebrow. "Surprise?"

"Yes, I told you by text." He emphasized obviously, gesturing towards his phone.

Of course, the text I didn't read. I nod briefly, so he thinks I know what he's talking about. Their surprises honestly scare me. They can go from something exciting to something illegal, you never know what to expect from these two. I'm nervous yes, I assume the "surprise" is inside.

"It's not bad at all." Rosa calms me down, she seems to read my mind sometimes. "I promise you'll be happy"

Well, now I'm scared.

Alexy wastes no time in cutting off the conversation, and Rosa simply presses her hand on my back lovingly, urging me to enter the disco-bar, "Snake Room." This was definitely not there when I lived here. Well, most of the things I see now didn't used to be there. Upon entering I immediately notice the loud music, the smoke and the smell of alcohol, the lights blur my vision a little, and it is difficult for me to discern where Alex is.

Rosa guides me a little to the table near the bar, which seems to be one of the quietest places in the place. But that's when the colored lights hanging near the stage allow me to catch a glimpse of him.

"I thought it would be nice for you to see each other again." Alex says, trying to calm the tension in the air.

My breath stops for a few moments. I don't know how to feel, but my body responds on its own. I'm shaking a little, and at this point I don't know if it's the flashing lights or their presence that's making me dizzy. I can barely move to get close to greet him. He changed a lot. Of course his essence is still there, I can tell, but it's definitely different.

"Welcome back." His voice is also different, deeper I could say. It throws me off a little. Well, all of him does. I curse myself internally. I was convinced I was ready for this, but I see I'm not.

I smile at him reflexively, and sit down across from him. The silence feels quite loud now that I feel his gaze on me, even though I avoid making eye contact. Rosa clears her throat, and gestures indiscreetly at Alex. I would laugh, if it weren't for the fact that this whole situation has me totally overwhelmed. I look at him for a few seconds, but he was already looking at me. God, I don't know if I can handle this.

"I imagined you´d be happier…" He smiled with amusement, and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat at his expression. He looks boyish, in a strange way. It's as if for a moment, his expression took me back to high school Armin.

"I'm surprised, that's all." I laugh nervously.

"Well, he came all the way here just to see you." Alexy clarifies, but Rosa waves him off with a glare.

I look at him with my eyes slightly open. "You´re not living here?" The question escapes me before I can think about it.

"Not quite." He clarifies, and takes a sip of beer. It's now that my throat feels a little dry, but I don't feel like drinking alcohol. I could end up doing things i´ll regret. "Although now that you're back, I'd think about it." He winks at me.

I looked to the side, and felt my cheeks burn a little. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

"I thought you were tougher." Rosa reproaches, tripping a little, but Alexy holds her steady. "Now you go to bed early and don't drink. You've become an old man." He grimaces, and a laugh escapes us.

"It's not that!" Alex complains. "I just wanted to greet [y/n] sober." He looks at me smiling, and I smile back. "I'll take care of the old drunk" Rosa exclaims a "hey!" and hits him lightly on the shoulder, but he doesn't flinch.

"Are you back on campus?" Armin asks me, and then I remember that he is, in fact, still here. He looks at me, waiting for my response but I freeze instantly. Every time he speaks I experience the same embarrassment.

"Well, I'll leave you, lovebirds." The idiot does it on purpose. But for the first time, I notice that I'm not the only one embarrassed, Armin's cheeks turn pink, and he sends a reproachful look to his twin, who smiles innocently. Some things never change, I see. "Take care of her." It sounds more like a threat than a request, to which the black-haired man rolls his eyes and nods.

I watch Alexy walk away in the opposite direction.

Silence falls between us, and it is until we see the two disappear after turning down the street that I understand that I am alone with him. I smile awkwardly at him before taking a couple steps back.

"I'll walk you back." I open my eyes a little, and look at him with surprise. He seems sure of his words, and looks at me expectantly with that smile of his that I still have to get used to. "I don't like the idea of you walking alone,"

"As much of a gentleman as I remembered." I reply, a flirtatious smile escaping me and Armin simply smiles wider. "It's close, anyway"

"I insist." His expression is confident, and well, I don't mind his company either.

With a slight nod of my head, Armin understands that I agree, so we start walking towards the campus. The silence this time is not awkward, and although we don't talk about anything, it really feels like there are an infinite number of topics to touch on. Not very pleasant topics. After all, we can't ignore that we were together, and that the break-up wasn´t the most pacific thing either.

"I was also glad to see you again." I whisper, and even though my voice sounds quiet, he hears me. He always does.

"I figured you'd be mad." He confesses, and although I don't see his face I know he's looking at me.

Deep down, yes I am. But I'm not sure if that was enough of a reason to ruin the evening and Alex's surprise. It would have been nice to have mentally prepared myself so that I wouldn't have reacted like a schoolgirl to seeing him.

"Well, it's been a long time…" I clear my throat a little. "I have my reasons to be tho."

"Yeah, but I bet you forgot all of it with how good I look." He mocks, smiling widely.

I click my tongue. "You can't use your face to change the past."

"You're right, but I can use it to change things now." A lopsided smile appears on his features, and his comment takes me by surprise.

I tense up suddenly and simply look away. I hate that probably if he tried… "You're too cocky." I complain.

Deep down, I wonder if that would bother me. It's stupid. Armin didn't care that we broke up, I really wonder what his intentions are now. But, I can't deny that the memory is still alive in me. Everything about him remains in me as if he had never left, and it bothers me that I couldn't change that in this embarrassing amount of time we were apart.

"I just feel like I'm not the only one." Armin grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Now I also notice that his style is different. It doesn't seem like his brother intervenes as much in his clothes as before, that is, he maintains a bit of his own style more than anything. More calm and informal.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grimace, crossing my arms before looking back at him.

"I say that because I notice the way you look at me." His words make me even more angry. Sometimes I feel like there is no one who can read me like he does. It was always like this, since we were young. One expression on my face was enough for Armin to decipher what was happening to me.

"I―no.." I stuttered and he noticed it, however, he didn't continue probing and I remained silent.

The walk to campus was getting shorter, and I wasn't sure I knew how to say goodbye. Everything was so strange. It's not that I want to see him, but knowing that he was going to leave made me feel like I couldn't just leave him like that. My heart is beating fast, I feel like even he can hear it.

And although it seems like things can't get any worse, several drops falling on my hair bring me out of my frantic thoughts. The chance of rain was quite low today, but of course it has to rain anyway.

"This weather is a bit nice." Armin points out, extending his palm to feel the raindrops on it, which slowly intensify.

"Nice? I'm soaking my clothes." I grumble, trying to cover myself a little.

"On one of these days we kissed for the first time" Armin smiles to himself, and simply lowers his gaze to look me in the eyes.

Shit. I didn't expect to have to think about this again. Less now that he´s here. Of course I remember it. I invited him to eat at the restaurant where we made that ridiculous double date that I actually still remember as one of my most precious moments.

On the way back home, rain started pouring and us, like idiots, hide nder a tree until it calmed down a bit. I wouldn´t forget something as special as that.

"You have no right Armin." I feel my eyes water at the memory, but I am relieved to know that because of the rain it is not very noticeable. "You can't say that now."

"It's not easy to pretend that I don't remember anything that happened." He frowns a little and stops in the middle of the street, forcing me to do the same.

"I'm not asking you to do it but…" I stop, feeling a sudden lump in my throat.

"And you can't pretend that the same thing doesn't happen to you."

And he is right. He always is when he talks about my feelings. He is correct, of course. Since I saw him, I knew that in fact, nothing of what I felt for him had managed to dissipate over the years. My heart still belongs to him.

"I lost you once, [y/n]. I can't let you go again…" His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. "When I knew you were coming back I―…"

I interrupted him. "Do you think it's easy for me?" I raised my tone of voice slightly, the fierce rain drowning out the noise a little. "Your lack of interest tired me out, Armin. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to throw myself into your arms like it was nothing."

"I know I did things wrong, but I can still show you that I changed!" He raised his voice too. My heart was racing, and his blue eyes looking at me like I was the only thing in the world made me feel like a teenager again. "I'm not the same one who made mistakes. The only thing that remains of me is the love I have for you, [y/n], it's the only thing I couldn't change."

Tears are streaming down my face, and I don´t think it comes unnoticed by him anymore. He sheepishly tries to dry them, but the water keeps running down.

"Look at me," Armin approached me and forced me to look at him with a gentle movement of his hand. He pressed his fingers a little on my chin. "I love you." And now, in his bright eyes, in his warm hands and in his smile that I never thought I would see again, I see the truth.

Without being able to get the words out of my mouth, frustrated, angry, I let myself go and as if my hands knew their way, they wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer to me. Our breaths merge and his arms end up around my waist. We are so close I memorize every feature of his face, every new thing my eyes notice.

"Are you going to kiss me or keep making me wait?" He murmured, and to silence him once and for all I kissed him.

I felt safe, at peace. Like I've been waiting for this forever. His lips fit perfectly on mine as always, his grip tightens and I need to hold on to him as I feel my legs shake a little. It's passionate, fierce. It's not like the way he kissed me before, so innocent and clumsy.

The butterflies that I thought were dead begin to flutter in my stomach again, and the only thing that separates me from jim is the lack of air. But even though we break the kiss, Armin doesn't let me go, he keeps me close to him and brings our foreheads together.

"This time I'll make you stay." He sighs, and kisses me again to seal his promise.

©allmcl !

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notiddygxthgf · 10 months

Text

PROLOGUE

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: drinking (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: OMG! im so excited to finally start publishing this fanfic. ive been sitting on it for a minute. DISCLAIMER LOL I dont condone the behavior observed in this story (even if I myself would have done it in a heartbeat) anything for papa nanami. im so normal about him (I have daddy issues). if ur new around here, say hi! if you've read my other ffs then welcome back teehee. chapter is not beta'd. we die like men. (I would recommend listening to the song while u read)

★ w.c.; 3k

my kinda love; chapter index

THE HORRORS. He dreamt about them often. Most of his dreams were of a similar nature; long, detailed, brutal. Bloody, at times. When he wasn’t kept up by the memories, he was dreaming about them – as if they had followed him into his slumber. When he woke up, his burdens were heavy on his shoulders. He would repeat this cycle every day.

He was compensated rather well for his traumas. Well was an understatement. Maybe it wasn’t… after all, no amount of money could ever possibly make up for the things he had seen.

He repeated the same cycle every single day.

“Nanami?” A soft voice shook him out of his reverie. It was his therapist – a woman of short stature with long, brown hair and a business-casual outfit on.

He raised his brows, doing his best to appear as if he had been listening the entire time. “Yes?”

“I asked you if you’ve had any romantic pursuits recently,” She answered. Her smile was warm, patient, but the clipboard in her lap said otherwise. He was paying for her time. “Any efforts to let new people into your life…?”

Nanami’s face wore a blank expression. He fiddled with the hands folded neatly in his lap. “As in… dating?”

“Dating counts, yeah,” She nodded. She tapped the edge of her purple pen against the page rhythmically while she awaited his reply.

He thought of the innumerable faceless women he had spent the evening with. He thought of warm mouths, soft lips, and supple bodies; Countless beautiful women he had tricked into thinking they had a chance at something more than a one night stand. Every time a potential suitor came along, he found himself being scared away by intimacy.

Not sex. He was no stranger to that, nor to its remarkable ability to take his mind off of the stress. It was what lurked in the shadows that daunted him – the lingering touches, the good morning messages, the heartfelt gestures. He could handle it when he was the one dishing it out, but the moment the energy was returned, every single time, he would find himself running away.

It was a dangerous game. He knew he was an evil, cold-hearted, bad man. A part of him wished he could have done right by those select women he had courted (for rather brief periods of time). The more sensible part of him knew he simply didn’t have the time nor the energy to confront his issues and commit to a single woman.

So he continued to ignore his problems – finding comfort in a warm bed and a warm body whenever he could. Sex made for one hell of an emotional crutch when it was the only thing that seemed to make you feel anything other than indifference.

Indifference. That was the only thing he felt these days. That, and the rush – the pursuit of animalistic passion in favor of neglecting his personal qualms. The temporary escape from his permanent issues.

“I’ve had quite a few,” He answered after a pause that seemed to stretch on for a moment too long. “Commitment is a bit of an issue for me, still, but I’m making an effort to work on it.”

Only partially a lie.

“That’s great, Nanami!” She smiled. She clicked her pen against the page, scribbling something down before she turned her attention back to him. “Tell me more about that effort. Have you been letting those emotional walls down?”

He fought the urge to grit his teeth together at her inquiry. If you can call ghosting three women in the last month and a half letting walls down.

“I’ll be honest,” He sighed. Sitting back in his leather loveseat, he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m starting to believe I’m unable to open up to another person on that level.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami,” She scribbled something down. Her eyes weren’t even on him when she uttered this. “I think you just need to put yourself out there a little more. Ease yourself into that intimacy you typically shy away from.”

Put myself out there.

He thought again of the countless women he had been with.

“Forgive me for being vulgar,” He admitted. “But I think I have enough sex.”

“Not that,” She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Intimacy and sex are two completely different things, Nanami – though they often intersect. You should try exploring non-sexual intimacy with a partner.”

“Non-sexual intimacy…” He reiterated. The term felt foreign as it rolled off of his tongue. “What do you mean by that?”

Was that what he had been missing? Non-sexual intimacy?

“Letting someone be vulnerable with you – being vulnerable with someone. The softness, that stuff that makes a relationship more than just physical. Other than love, that is,” She answered. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the page before flipping it. She was like clockwork. “There’s something healing about having a soft and, in your case, feminine presence in your life that you can be vulnerable with.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never acted,” He said. Casting a sideways glance at the analog clock on her desk, he asked, “Does that make me selfish? Shying away from non-sexual intimacy because I don’t understand it – even though I allow myself to indulge in sexual intimacy?”

“It makes you human, I think,” She smiled softly, writing something else down. Her brown eyes flitted up to meet him with unfounded warmth. “You should try letting someone in, Nanami. Might be worth a shot. What do you have to lose?”

Everything, was his first thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed anyway.

The faint buzz of the neon sign before him grew louder as he approached it. It was hardly audible over the deep buzz of the bass coming from the other side of the door. The words “Cat House” blinked periodically, illuminating his tired face in its glow each time.

“You’re taking him to a strip club?” Nanami grumbled. Still, shutting the door of the sleek black vehicle behind him, he glanced at the glowing pink sign. “The kid is turning 21.”

After his white-haired-blue-eyed long-term-acquaintance stepped out from the other side of the SUV, the driver pulled off. Gojo wiped his hands off on the fabric of his suit. “Not just any strip club! My favorite strip club!”

“You’re a regular,” He sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you are.”

“You, my friend, need to learn how to have some fun,” Gojo hummed. He brushed past Nanami, making his way to the stairway that undoubtedly descended to the entrance. “Yuuji’s gonna love it!”

Nanami followed after Gojo, flicking his cigarette onto the ground below his feet. His footsteps crunched against the gravel pathway. “If this is what your definition of fun is, I don’t think you should have been the one planning out his birthday.”

“What would you have done? Take him to an arcade?” Gojo waved him off. He nodded towards the door the two men now stood in front of. “Kid’s 21, not 12. Let’s go inside.”

"Hard pass," Nanami answered calmly. He straightened his tie out, suddenly feeling rather overdressed for the occasion – especially considering the kind of establishment this was .

"Yes we are."

"I have better things to do."

"Like what? Moping and pouting at home?" Gojo interjected, reaching for his arm – which Nanami quickly pulled out of his grasp. “It’s Yuuji’s birthday. Go celebrate with a lapdance, or something.

Gojo grabbed his arm again. Getting the strong feeling that he would simply try again if he pulled his arm away, Nanami let him.

“I will be doing nothing of the sort,” He grumbled. Still, he allowed Gojo to pull him into the entryway.

A low and seductive saxophone medley poured out from the speakers, and Nanami nearly considered turning back there and then. Gojo – with Nanami in tow – approached a rather scantily clad woman near the door.

“Hi, doll. Party for Itadori?” He asked.

The hostess nodded. Gathering a few menus, she stepped out from behind the counter – wearing nothing more than a micro skirt and a bikini top. “Right this way,” she said.

The two men followed her into the club. Everything – everything – was pink. As pink as Yuuji’s hair, with red chairs and booths scattered throughout. It looked like the place had been designed by fucking Cupid himself. There were dozens of dancers strutting around the place – all of which wore tiny skirts and tight tops.

Nanami didn’t miss the way Gojo’s eye’s trailed over the hostess’s ass while she led them over to their booth.

“The dancers here are phenomenal," Gojo said to him, raising his voice so that he was louder than the music. The stage was surrounded by at least 15 tables, all of which were packed with very excited-looking men. Conveniently enough, their table sat front-and-center to the stage.

"Can I get you started with something to drink?” The woman said, gesturing to the booth. “Or would you like to wait for the rest of your party?”

Gojo sank into one of the cushiony chairs at the table, and Nanami did the same. The cushion was a bright red velour. It was soft – he really didn’t wanna think about what sort of stories the chair could tell.

“A strawberry margarita for me, please– extra dirty,” Gojo answered. He didn’t even have to look at the menu. Fuckin’ party animal.

The lady nodded, then turned her gaze to Nanami.

He had to think for a moment before he asked. “Do you have wine?”

“Yeah,” She hummed. “What kind?”

“Merlot, please,” He answered. “Bring the whole bottle.”

The lady nodded, and again, he caught the way Gojo shamelessly stared at the woman's ass as she walked away. Once he was certain they were alone, he asked his eccentric friend, "The drinks any good here?"

"You ask that after you order a whole bottle of it?" The man chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and rather conspicuously nudging Nanami’s leg with his foot. "They’re alright. The key is to get wasted enough that they taste better.”

That’s terrible advice. Nanami knew better than to try to argue with Gojo. He had long since learned his lesson. Instead, he tried to see the bright side of the whole situation. Perhaps this night out would help him take his mind off of everything

Yuuji and his friends had arrived only thirty minutes earlier, and they were already drunk. They were cackling loudly – so loudly that they were beginning to draw attention. Gojo, wiping away tears from laughing so hard, was clapping his hands together in amusement.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Gojo went for the tequila bottle and poured everyone another round of shots. The clear liquid seemed to catch the light just slightly, just enough that it glistened as he raised his glass.

“Lovely students, gather ‘round!” He slurred, a drunken sparkle in his eyes. He tapped the side of his glass with a metal fork – the resulting clink cut right through the laughter.

The group hushed as all eyes focused on him. “I want to make a toast!” He announced after a dramatic pause. He glanced at poor Yuuji, with his “birthday girl” sash and matching tiara, and proclaimed, “I wanna thank all of you for gathering here to celebrate our beloved birthday girl’s special night!”

All eyes turned to Yuuji, who wore a dopey, beaming grin.

Gojo stood up from his chair, bringing the glass of tequila with him. Nanami watched with moderate intrigue – only because there was a 50% chance that his alcoholic beverage could wind up all over his shirt.

“To Yuuji!” he declared, raising his glass high.

The group raised their glasses together. For a moment, Nanami felt a warmth in his chest – a rare moment of contentment amidst all of the chaos. Everyone was okay. They were here . Happy.

“To Yuuji!” They echoed.

He raised my own glass a moment too late, then threw it down the hatch. The bitter taste of the liquor as it flowed down Nanami’s throat and warmed his chest was not unwelcome.

Yuuji, however, nearly gagged on his, swallowing slowly before erupting into a fit of coughs.

Laughter erupted once again, and Nobara affectionately patted Yuuji on the back. As the group continued to revel in the celebration, the lights dimmed.

"Oh shit, I think the show is starting," Yuuji exclaimed.

"Quiet down, everyone! Gojo chimed in, his usual exuberance heightened by the alcohol.

As the lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere shifted. The group settled into their seats, anticipation filling the air. Yuuji, still wearing his birthday girl sash, looked around with wide eyes, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The curtains gracefully rolled open just a moment later, ushering in a pulsating beat as a shadow emerged from the stage's depths. Gojo couldn't help but nearly roll his eyes at the sheer absurdity of it all. Gliding effortlessly to the stage's forefront was the dancer, adorned in a fetching ensemble—a pretty pink G-string paired with a matching corset adorned with little embroidered hearts. Her hair was styled into two low pigtails, and from where Nanami stood, he couldn't deny she was, well, kind of pretty.

The rhythmic beat filled the restaurant as the dancer began to sway her hips, accompanied by the provocative lyrics.

‘Tell nobody I control you

I broke you just to hold you,’

She placed a hand on her shoulder, trailing it around her neck before seductively sliding it down her glimmering, scantily-clad chest. The spotlight painted her feminine silhouette with hues of pink and red, and Nanami couldn't resist letting his gaze drift a little lower.

‘They can’t tell, but I love you,’

Grasping the pole behind her, the dancer executed snakelike hip movements. Her hands remained wrapped around the pole as she pressed her back against it, biting her bottom lip in a tantalizing squat. Legs opened, hips gyrating, she beckoned the audience forward. Nanami's eyes dropped below the belt once more as her body rippled enticingly to the beat.

‘Cause you’re loyal, baby,

I love when you’re submissive,’

She was undeniably gorgeous. Her attire accentuated her curves, and her movements exuded confidence and sensuality.

‘Love it when I break skin,’

Gojo, in his usual flamboyant manner, clapped his hands and whistled at the dancer. Nanami turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if silently conveying, "She's hot." Gojo simply smiled in return.

‘You feel pain without flinchin’...

So say it…’

She stepped around the pole, so that her long, athletic legs were spread in front of it, her back was straight, and her hands were clasped around the pole above her head. She demanded attention – something reflected by the hoots and whistles resonating throughout the room.

‘Give me tough love,’

Slowly, she slid into a squat.

‘Leave me with nothing when I come down,

My kinda love,’

From there, she crawled onto her hands and knees, arching her back, rolling her hips against the floor in a way that had Nanami’s eyes blinking rapidly. She grinded and crawled, eventually transitioning onto her back, where she backbended and then cartwheeled onto her feet again.

‘Push me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

His jaw would have been on the floor if he didn’t have an image to uphold.

Returning to her confident strides around the pole, she stopped to roll her body against it, smoothing her hands over her smooth bottom, eyes scanning the audience. Sliding her hands up her inner thighs, she flipped her hair up and then rolled back up slowly. She dropped down into another squat, then – spinning on the balls of her feet – she rolled over the floor, kicking her legs up into a split, hands on the ground, back arched.

‘ We don’t gotta be in love, no,

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

She’s amazing, he found himself thinking.

She rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself back onto her knees, and arched her back – all while running her hands over her torso, her waist. Her hips rolled forward, making a little riding motion that made Nanami reconsider his harsh words towards his comrade earlier in the evening.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

Spinning around to face the crowd on her knees, she crawled onto her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly, sensually – in an almost feline fashion – with her ass and heels pointed up.

She pushed herself onto her feet, hands holding her heels, rolling up slowly again – this time dagging her hand up the length of her smooth, long legs. She reached for the pole, rolling her body against it.

‘Push me down, hold me down,

Spit in my mouth while you turn me out,’

Is she even going to use the pole? Nanami wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. It looked difficult – something he could never imagine himself being able to do. And, shit, for what it was worth, she was putting on one hell of a show without it.

‘I wanna take your light inside,

Dim me down, snuff me out,

Hands on my neck while you push it out,

And I’m screamin’ out’

She hooked her leg around the pole – as if she had heard Nanami’s internal inquiry, and flipped up onto it. In one smooth motion, she seemed to defy gravity. Her legs were pointed up, straight towards the ceiling as the pole rotated slowly. Then, before Nanami could catch his breath, her legs split open.

‘Give me tough love,

Leave me with nothin’ when I come down.’

She looked so fucking… perfect, so remarkable. He found himself entirely hypnotized by her. Her back was arched, pressed up against the pole – hell, her whole body was bent backward. He had never seen someone do an upside down split in mid air with only their hands as support, let alone do it so effortlessly.

‘My kinda love,

Force me and choke me ‘til I pass out.’

Her eyes scanned the shouting crowd with a seductive expression. She wrapped her legs around the back of the pole. Then, still upside down, she relaxed her grip on the base of the pole, sliding down until her hands met the ground.

He was surprised her breasts hadn’t spilled out of their containers by now.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no,

I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.’

In one fluid motion, she opened her legs and cartwheeled away from the pole. She sauntered up to the front of the stage again, sliding her hands up her hips, her stomach, her chest, her neck. Nanami’s eyes followed her hands hungrily on their journey up, and then again on their way down, down, down. With her hands on her knees, she sunk into a squatting position.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

Nanami gaped at the stage. She was absolutely stunning. Her body moved with grace, and her long legs worked those heels in a way that left his head spinning. The way her hands gripped the pole ignited a desire in Nanami's fingers to reach out and touch her.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight, oh.’

Strutting to the stage's front, she sank back down to her knees, this time facing away from the audience. Slowly, she bent over backward, bridging off the stage into the audience. What struck Nanami the hardest wasn't the sparkle of her chest or the way her hair framed her pretty eyes; it was the way she looked right at him.

‘ Lock me up and throw away the key,

He knows how to get the best out of me,

I’m no fool for the world to see,

Trade my whole life just to be.’

And Nanami, normally a man of composure, felt the blood rush to his face. He felt something stir deep within his chest – a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Her half-lidded, smokey eyes gazed into his with the intensity of a thousand wildfires—unwavering, unrelenting, glimmering. She was fucking beautiful.

Droplets of sweat slid down her chest, and she smirked before extending her arm towards him. An unfamiliar, small hand gently caressed the side of his face. Nanami's heart raced, the scent of sweat and perfume leaving him reeling for more.

Then, as if nothing had transpired, the dancer pulled herself back onto her knees and continued with her routine.

Nanami's head spun, utterly captivated. He felt Gojo tap him on the shoulder.

“She’s good, ain’t she?” He shouted over the sultry beat.

As the bills rained down around the captivating dancer, Nanami found himself unable to tear his gaze away. Gojo's words still echoed in his ears, but a stubborn sense of restraint kept him from joining in the display of buffoonery.

Gojo, undeterred by Nanami's refusal, slid him some bills anyway. "Tip her," Gojo insisted. Before Nanami could protest further, Gojo walked away.

Left alone, Nanami hesitated, his gaze alternating between the bills in his hand and the dancer on stage, who continued her mesmerizing routine, seemingly unaffected by the cascade of money around her.

‘We don’t gotta be in love, no

I don’t gotta be the one, no’

He yearned to be closer to her. It was a strange feeling – one that he hadn’t felt before. He yearned to see her, to hold her, to…

The bills felt weighty in his hand, a tangible representation of the internal struggle Nanami was experiencing. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. With a determined look, he rolled his thumb over the bills one last time, then threw them up into the air.

Dollar bills danced around the woman as she moved, and she seemed to lock eyes with Nanami, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

‘I just wanna be one of your girls tonight’.

He wasn’t enamored.

No, he definitely wasn’t enamored with the absurdly pretty exotic dancer on the stage. That’s what he told himself.

And even though he had slandered Gojo for being a frequent patron of the club before that night, he joined the rank of regular himself not very long after.

a/n: hi pookie cookie bookie butts! I didnt like this specific chapter, but I never like my first chaps. thats why I make prologues lol!! the story will get much better I swear. tell me your thoughts, requests, remarks, etc in the comments, as always!! love u all <333 -Leo

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @mindurownbussines , @hearts4sid , @simplefools , @ynjimenez

wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

#my kinda love ʕ•㉨•ʔ #notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#nanami x reader #kento x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami fluf #nanami angst #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x you #gojo satoru #gojo #Yuuji itadori

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skiiyoomin · 1 year

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I feel like there isn't enough for Newt from The Maze Runner Series. Could you please write for him?

⤑Back to navigation

Content: slight violence? swearing, gn reader! oblivious reader

Summary: You were a Runner who had the unfortunate luck of getting bitten by a Griever. You had assumed your death, but when you woke up, you were in a completely different Glade, surrounded by completely different people, by boys.

a/n I´m sooo sorry I took so long to answer but it´s finally here!! (ive been having huge writers block so i hope this is good enough) I totally think there's not enough tmr ff!! we have to revive the fandom 🥹 my friends helped think of the plot so props to them!! :D

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღFrom afar | Newt

Your feet pounded on the hard ground, your heavy pants echoing through the hard rock walls. You turned your head back every so often, the sound of screeching of metal on rock not much further behind you, forcing you to quicken your pace.

A mere few minutes ago, you were peacefully resting on one of the many walls inside the maze, you were unaware of the Griever close by until it was too late. You could have run straight back to the Glade, but you couldn't risk letting the Griever close to the doors and putting in danger the rest of the girls.

Your lungs burned, terribly so, but you didn't stop. You couldn't. It all backfired when you turned the corner and found yourself in a dead end. You heard the roar of the Griever too close for comfort and without thinking, you ran straight to the end wall, grabbing onto one of the many vines and pulling yourself upward.

You looked down when you deemed yourself to be high enough, a mistake really, because in a flash, the Griever snapped the vine you were holding onto. The fall felt like it went by in slow motion, and in those few seconds, you quickly assumed your death. You felt a sharp sting on your side. Did the Griever sting you? Well, you were a goner anyway, what did it matter. Your vision began to blur, black spots engulfing your sight until all you saw was pitch black, and then, unconsciousness.

Minho ran around the maze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, as per usual. When he turned a corner, his feet abruptly stopped.

"What the..."

A few steps in front of him laid a body, a female body. As he slowly stepped closer, he immediately took note of your sickly looking skin. His eyes landed on a spot on your arm, or rather a bite. There were dark protruding veins going up your arm, the sight bad enough to make anyone grimace.

That's when Minho snapped out of it and came to a quick realizations. You were stung by a Griever. But how did you get here? Where did you come from? Who are you?

Despite the thousands of questions flying through his mind, he knew if he didn't take you back to the Glade you'd be a goner. He gently lifted you in his arms and raced back as fast as he could.

As expected, he got a lot of stares and was asked many questions he simply could not answer.

"For the last time Alby, I don't know. I found her laying on the ground, what was i supposed to do, leave her there?"

Under all the sudden chaos, Newt, a natural diplomat in these situations, was uncharacteristically quiet. He simply did not know how to feel about any of it.

Eventually you recovered, gave your side of the story to Alby and began your new life in a new place. Undoubtedly it was hard. Recovering from the sting was a process filled with agony and confusing thoughts. Settling down in a place full of boys whose horomones skyrocketed was just as hard. Despite the uncomfortableness of it all, you began to befriend the right people and soon enough you had gained your place as a Runner.

Through all of this, Newt had made sure to stay far far away from you, watching you without making a move.

"You're gonna scare her off if you keep looking at her so much"

Frypans voice had startled him out of his daze, his eyes moving from you to him in bewilderment.

"What are you on about"

Frypan shrugs at this "You keep staring at her, if you like her that much you should just talk to her"

Now he was bewildered for sure, like you?? How is that even possible. He debated in his mind, Frypans words leaving him in a confused state. He was sure he didn't like you, yet why is your smile so heart warming, your hair looks especially nice today too.

Crap, maybe he does like you after all.

Little did he know, you were having a similar conversation in one of the many tables.

"He totally makes eyes at you, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Minho exclaims, rather loudly at that, making you slap your hands over his mouth to shut him up.

"Shut it you slinthead, he's gonna hear if you talk so loud"

Minho simply rolls his eyes before saying "Good, maybe that'll have you make a move"

You scoff "He probably doesn't even like me, he barely talks to me!!

And just like that, you were both in a never ending spiral of confusion and overthinking thoughts. And obviously, everyone noticed, with how obvious you two were how could they not?

And obviously Minho decided the best thing to do was to set up a plan.....for everyones sake.

Your days had started off normal. You got to work, went out to the Maze, came back and jotted down what you had seen. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As you were finishing up in the Map Room, Minho had bursted in, making you jump and look at him in surprise.

"I need you to help me, come quick"

Without much of a question, you followed him until you reached the Homestead. As you walked up the stairs, you stopped in front of a small unfamiliar room. Minho pushed open the door, holding on to the door knob and waving his hand, motioning you to walk inside. Before you even realized what was going on, he had slammed the door shut, locking you inside the room.

You whirled around to face the door, a look of perplexion on your face. You heard Minhos loud voice boom from the other side

"I´m not letting you out until you talk to each other!!"

If possible, your confusion only grew as you mumbled "Each other?"

"He means us"

You heard a voice from behind, the British accent all too familiar. Turning around, you were met with the sight of Newt sitting on the floor with an unimpressed look on his face. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your heart hammering in your chest. Taking a deep breathe, you sigh shakily as you sit down beside him.

You rest your head on the wall behind you, your thoughts wandering and your brows furrowing more and more.

"What do you think he meant by talking to each other?"

Newt glanced at you for a second, then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward and placed his thumb between your brows, gently rubbing the area until your frown completely disappeared.

"I don´t know but what I do know is that you´re gonna get wrinkles if you frown so much"

In a dazed like motion, he traced his thumb over your brow and down your temple until his entire hand was cupping your cheek. Your cheeks flushed under his hand, wide eyes staring deep into his brown ones.

However, as soon as the moment was there it was gone just as quickly as Newt backed away, apologies flying his mouth.

Your hands moved before you could even process what you were doing. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Stop apologizing you idiot! I don´t mind..."

You mumbled the last part in embarrasement, your eyes trained on the floor underneath you. The feeling of his rough calloused hands pulling yours away from his cheeks made your eyes shoot back up at him in surprise. You thought he would push you away, instead, he pulled you close until your head was resting on his shoulder, his long arms wrapping around your waist.

"Then...do you mind if I do this?"

When he felt you shake your head, he breathed out a sigh of relief, his tense muscles relaxing, letting you nuzzle your face deeper against the crook of his neck. You were in that position for what felt like ages when Newt called out your name. Moving your head so you could look at him better, he took this as a sign to continue.

"I- I don´t know how to say this without making it awkward, but...well I always get this feeling around you, like my hearts going to fly out of my chest...or how I get all jittery"

As he rambles, you push your head back to fully look at him, your cheeks flaring up at his words.

"What I´m trying to say is I really really like you"

In a flash, you had cupped his face with your hands and slammed your lips to his. Whatever words he had were gone once he felt your soft lips on his. When air called, you pulled away, breathing deeply.

"I like you too Newt"

You´ve never seen someone smile as much as he did in that moment, dazzling smile taking your breath away. This time it was him who leaned in for a kiss, deeper this time and full of passion.

If you had known it would be like this you would have kissed him long long ago. Guess you have Minho to thank now.

-------------------------------

BONUS!!

"You think he asked her out already?" Asked Minho.

"They´ve been in there for a while that´s for sure" Was Albys reply.

"Do you think they´re-"

"DON´T finish that sentence Minho"

"I don´t think I would´ve wanted to know anyway" He says with a grimace.

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blackdollette · 8 months

Text

HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY. - charlie walker

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: happiness is a butterfly. - norman fucking rockwell!

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: he's a serial killer...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25 @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@lankysimp

female!reader x charlie

word count: 643

contents: public sex, kinda cheating, a little stalking (reader is the stalker)

you watched from the opposite side of the classroom as charlie mindlessly flirted with two girls, not looking in your direction once. you sighed deeply, thinking back to the long phone call you two had had last night. the one where he said that you were the only one he wanted. he’d told you one thing and now you were hearing another.

you always found yourself looking at him from afar, never being close enough to actually catch him before he flew away. he always sent you mixed signals. did truly want you, or are you just another conquest to help fill the void in his soul? even then, you would fill the role in an instant if only he would give you the light of day.

but the same thing happened every night. the same midnight calls, the same confessions, humming the same songs across the line until you both fell asleep. then you saw him the next day, chatting it up with a new girl and forgetting all about you just as you thought you had him in your grasp. the monotony was sickening to you.

you went to all of his stupid movie marathons and pretended to like all the things he likes, all for a measly make-out session in his backseat.

you let out a shaky sigh as his lips travelled from yours down to your neck, leaving a sloppy trail as he whispered quietly to you. “you’re the only one for me, baby. all mine…” as much as the words heated you to your core, you knew that it was all bullshit. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to pull his sweatshirt off of your body, tossing it to the side as he fucked you right outside of the cinema’s parking lot.

his rusty old van creaked and groaned under the weight of you two, threatening to give in from how rough he was being with you. you wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering into his shoulder as you gave in to the pleasure, letting yourself believe that you were the only one for him. how naive you were. you caught him in the same parking spot the week after, doing the same thing that he did to you to another girl.

he was a serial killer, going around finding whatever helpless victim would let him take their life. but what was the worst that could happen to you? he had already hurt you too many times to count. you didn’t mind being killed by him. but you knew he was hurting just as badly as you were. he was a hopeless romantic who belonged to no one, and that surely left a sting.

he was just as bad as they all said he was but you were cursed to fall for him anyway, longing for the day that he would feel the same. but that day never came.

the day came that you finally confronted him, tears filling your eyes as you called him out as the jerk he was. you had always let him use you until he was pleased and throw you away until next time. you sat in his passenger seat, mouthing off as he occasionally glanced at you from the side.

you took a good look at his expression, seeing that none of your words had put him on edge. he appeared completely serene as he drove quietly. something you never saw when he was with someone else. he took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly as he sighed contently. “i meant what i said. you really are the only one for me.�� you wanted to roll your eyes and call him out for his manipulation but you stayed quiet, relaxing in his embrace as you realized that you finally caught your butterfly.

author's note: probably the shittiest fic ive posted on this app. since this one's pretty short in gonna post the chris kenton one today too!

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strxnged · 29 days

Text

TIGHNARI: # the roots of ambition.

CHAPTER IV. In which Tighnari saves your life, and you make an important discovery.

Word count. 2.3k. Genre. Found family, gn!reader.

Table of Contents. / Final chapter.

Tighnari had no intention of taking the search party with him to save you. He’d been there when the two of you processed the results of the previous study; following your disappearance, it hadn’t taken him long to ascertain your plan. He wasn’t about to go in without a safety net prepared, however.

“If I find them,” he told the Forest Rangers he'd arranged for help, “wait for my signal before you retrieve us from the Withering Zone. Don’t put yourselves in danger to help me save them.”

It was clear—too clear—that you meant to study healthy saplings in mycelium affected by The Withering. It was so obvious that Tighnari wanted to slap himself for not understanding sooner. With your research you hoped to find a treatment for Eleazar. You’d been pushing yourself to your limits to break through them. To save yourself, and everyone else affected, before it took you, too. He’d been so blind even to your Eleazar at first—it took the sight of your clumsy, paled fingertips before he had realized your condition. Even after you began to exhibit abnormal fatigue, he let you lie to him. Archons, he should have been more protective, but he knew it was against his nature to tend to someone that much. Perhaps he’d already done so—perhaps he’d scared you off with his watchful eyes. Yet he could not help that. He cared, and he was not going to altogether hide that for your comfort. Especially not now.

The closest Withering Zone, Tighnari saw, was too close to Gandharva Ville for comfort. After he inspected the area, he returned to his group. “Flag this area as a priority. I’ll come back here to deal with it once we get things straightened out.”

He searched the next Withering Zone to no avail, and rejuvenated with his group before continuing to the next area. Archons, if he felt this drained after a few minutes in a Withering Zone, he couldn’t imagine your state…

They travelled on. Withering Zone after Withering Zone, he listened, smelled, and watched for traces of you. He knew he would find you if he kept looking. But his own physical resources had been depleted by the end of the day, and if he went into another Withering Zone it would not be so easy for him to come out again. The party set up camp.

In the first Withering Zone they came to the next morning, Tighnari saw a dull figure knelt near the tumour. He could not get closer, however, as Ruin creatures began to attack him.

“Scorching Ajilenakh!” he hissed as The Withering mounted its draining effect on his body. He fired his bow at the monsters, managing to weaken their attacks as he led them away from you.

Quickly his stamina decreased, and with a hesitant glance at you, he lunged out of the Withering Zone to recover. The monsters followed him, but it was easier to slay them here. “This better be the last of you brutes.”

Launching the last of his attacks, he took a deep breath and dashed past their bodies into the center of the area. Yes, there you were. Still kneeling, unmoving.

“Snakes and boars, Y/N, please don’t be dead.”

He knelt next to you and grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were wide, reacting slowly to his presence. He felt for a pulse, noticing how your arms had been invaded by the stone-like disease. But your eyes were alive. You were alive.

In front of you, he saw an array of sickly saplings which mimicked your atrophy.

Without a moment’s delay, he pulled your arms over his shoulders and hoisted you onto his back, trudging out of the Withering Zone with hardly a breath to spare to whistle for the search party.

⸙

“You’re going to do what?!” Sage Naphis’s jaw clenched as he berated you. “I can’t begin to understand why you think that you could detect reliable data, much less how you think you could survive that! Don’t be reckless. I will be getting in touch with the rest of the Amurta faculty so that they also withdraw support from this proposal. This is a terrible idea. Irresponsible. Have you learned nothing from the Akademiya about ethical methodology?”

You shrugged, slumping in your chair. The plants in his office were lively and undisciplined, vines roaming the walls and leaves coating the floor. You wondered about the species of the orchid on the windowsill.

“I can’t support this proposal. If you go through with this, you will be relieved from your status as a researcher.”

You sighed. “Not if death claims me first,” you muttered.

“Y/N. You can’t throw away what time you have left.” The sage leaned forward and peered at you over his large spectacles. “I understand where you’re coming from, but there’s no logical reason to throw your life away for something like this. Give it more time. I’m sure you can study this without needing to spend so much time in a Withering Zone.”

It was a Vanda falcata on the windowsill. It liked full sunlight, and you recalled that it enjoyed several types of mycorrhizal fungi associations throughout its development.

“With all due respect,” you said, eyes still on the V. falcata, “sitting back and waiting for other researchers to fix me is throwing my life away, sir. None of the other researchers endure the same urgency as me.”

“Then, you must at least modify your methods. I’m not trying to stop you from studying The Withering. I require you, by all observed guidelines, to be safe and rational.”

The Withering, festering deeply and wholly in your body, was never safe and rational. Why shouldn’t you step up to its game?

⸙

The first thing you saw was the forest.

You woke in not a medicinal hut or bed, but under a travel tarp with only a slight cushion beneath your head. You squinted at the sun slipping through the branches. What had happened?

Oh, you remembered. Tighnari had come for you, ignoring your wishes. Despite the fact that you knew he had likely saved you from immediate death, you wanted to give him a piece of mind. Wherever he was. You tried to sit up.

“Y/N! Thank the gods, you’re awake!”

Collei’s voice broke through your blind rage and you fell back. You were wrought with exhaustion. Your body was so weighed down you could hardly feel it. It was like all your appendages were still asleep.

“Collei,” you choked out. Your throat felt dry, lungs tight.

“Don’t try to talk. I’m supposed to give you this when you wake up.” She helped you sit up with much effort and carefully handed you a cloudy tea-like liquid. “Master sent someone to tell us what happened and I came here to take care of you. You almost died! Master…” she lowered her volume, “seems so on edge today. I think he might be a little upset.” She resumed at a normal volume. “He’s busy dealing with something in the Withering Zone. When he comes back, don’t take anything he says too hard. He’s just worried about you, I think.”

Collei continued to chatter. You weren’t sure she knew exactly what was going on, but neither did you, you supposed. Either way, it was a bit much for you in your state, but you were grateful you weren’t left to your own thoughts.

At last you heard Tighnari approach. You weren’t exactly sure how you knew it was him, since you were still mostly immobile and couldn’t see more than the treetops above you. Something about his manner of walking, you guessed, was unmistakable.

Tighnari addressed Collei. “How are they?”

“They’re awake, Master!”

He knelt next to you and you stared up at him. You weren’t sure what expression to make, but you felt your mouth curl up in a sort of grimace. Tighnari’s brows scrunched, lips pressed together, and breaths hitched.

“Good,” he said quietly.

He felt your forehead for a fever, tested your pulse, your blood pressure, your reflexes, your pupils, your sites of infection. “Spread is receding…” he muttered, but then hesitated.

Tighnari took your now fully greyed hand. You couldn’t feel his touch at all. It was like he was holding another person’s hand that extended from your body. The fingers were tightly curled, grasping something. One by one, he gently pried the fingers open.

In the palm of the hand was a Dendro Vision.

Your Dendro Vision.

You’d heard stories of individuals receiving visions from time to time. You never expected—considered that it could happen to you. Collei was the first person with Eleazar you’d met with a vision, and you’d assumed she was the exception.

“Tighnari,” you rasped.

“Y/N,” he responded in awe.

Blessed in your curse. Protected by those you wanted to protect. Pursuit of life through the quickening of death. You stared at each other in silence for some time, soaking it in.

“I have to tell you something,” he said. “That may help you understand how this may have come about.”

You stared at him expectantly.

“The saplings… The rate at which the Withered mycelium formed a connection with them was rapid. By the time I was able to test their chemical content, they had nearly been sucked dry. The Withering affected them as if they had grown from the soil itself. This confirms the connection to Irminsul, the nature of The Withering, the reason we can’t eliminate the disease. It’s Irminsul itself that’s infected. It’s the roots of the Earth. There’s something deeper going on, and you just confirmed it.”

You let go a puff of air, a wave of relief washing over you.

“And could mean so much for future research. It’s revolutionary.”

“You continued my research?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t just let your mad-scientist behaviour amount to nothing.” With narrowed eyes, he continued. “I can’t believe you would just run off like that. You knew I’d try to convince you out of it—of course I would have! How incredibly reckless of you to put yourself in that situation with your condition! I would have killed you if you’d died. You absolute nimrod!”

You only smiled.

“Don’t give me that, moron. I’m so mad I could chew an Athel tree.”

The passion in the Forest Watcher’s voice and eyes only filled you with further relief. “Thank you. For saving me. And tell Collei thank you, too.”

“I will alert the rest of the Forest Rangers that looked for you that you are grateful to them and owe them a favour, too.”

“Did you really band together half the Forest Rangers?”

“Of course I did. Rule one, no going off on your own. Akademiya didn’t teach that in my day, either, but it’s a rule to live by.”

“But I’ve been going off on my own my whole life.”

“Yeah, and thanks to us, that won’t be your final sentiment. Learn to accept help, Y/N.” He looked at your legs and his tone cut from reproaching to tender. “I’m sorry, but you might need more of it from now on.”

Oh.

“Are my legs…”

“I’m so sorry. While you were in the Withering Zone, the Eleazar spread much more rapidly, and I don’t think this Nilotpala tea is going to substantially treat the infected areas. We can only do our best to sustain the rest of your body and pursue further research. You’ll need to commission a wheelchair from a carpenter in Sumeru City.”

“And my hands?” You tried to move them, to some avail, though you managed to drop your Vision onto your abdomen as you tried to curl your fingers around it again.

“Not entirely useless. You’ll be able to push and pull.” He looked regretful. “I’m not sure if you’ll regain full feeling. We can hope.”

You awkwardly rested your hand on your abdomen, trying to get a grip on the Vision.

Tighnari saw this and quickly undid one of his belts. “We can use this as a sash for you. Let me help you sit up.”

As he did so, you understood the true extent of the Eleazar’s spread. Your lower back felt weak and uncomfortable, and below your waist, you had almost no feeling. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk, and even sitting up was a balancing act. Tighnari tied the Vision to the belt and

“I’ll make sure to get it back to you.”

Tighnari’s eyes widened. “No, you won’t. This is yours now.”

You shook your head. “I can’t take anything else from you. You’ve done everything for me, and I haven’t returned the favour at all.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been helping us out around Gandharva Ville. You’re doing incredibly important research but you don’t act like those insufferable scholars who act like they’re the gods’ gift to the world. I care about you, and I want to help you any way I can.”

“But you don’t treat me like the others.”

He paused, brushing some hair out of your face. “Am I mistaken to imagine I can call you my friend?”

Your eyes fell. How had you gotten yourself in this mess so quickly? How had you let someone get close enough to care? He was close enough to you that when you died, he…

“Your hesitance isn’t enough to dissuade me. You should know this by now.”

“So I’m just stuck with you?”

“Me, and the rest of the Forest Rangers. You can’t just waste away in the city. You won’t.”

No, he was right. You wouldn’t waste away at the Akademiya any longer. But before you could spend the rest of your days in the rejuvenating aura of the rainforest, you had one more thing to do.

Table of Contents.

#the roots of ambition.#tighnari & reader #genshin platonic #genshin longfic #genshin adventure #sumeru fic #tighnari platonic #genshin series #collei ff #tighnari angst #genshin impact sickfic #genshin x disabled!reader #gi x gn!reader #genshin lore

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her-power · 8 months

Text

Last Chance to Dance (Part Five: Rockstar! e.m x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

A/N: I'm baaaaaaack. I'm feeling so much better. My son is getting better, and he's still his same goofy one year old self. This ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but the final part will be Part Six! I think you're going to like how I end it. My next series is still brewing in my nogging right now, and I have a few one shot ideas. ALSO, the next series will be a surprise release. What's the theme? You may wonder. Well...I don't know yet! Lmao. I'm just gonna go with the flow, and let my fingers do the talking. (That sounds a little dirty, right? Meh. The dirtier the better!) The series might be based off of a sequence of dreams I have been having of our precious Eddie Munson/Joseph Quinn. I just have to figure out what the fuck they mean. Anyways, I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also didn't proof read this, again, I let my fingers do the talking. ;)

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 7.4k

Seven months ago… It was a busy day at the hospital; it was so short staffed they had to call you down from oncology to fill in in the ICU. You were straddling a young man on a gurney who had come in with an overdose, doing chest compressions as they wheeled him into the room. He wasn’t responsive, he still had a pulse, but there was no reaction to his pupils or muscle movement. You knew he was likely brain dead; he had been unconscious for twenty minutes before he was found. It didn’t take much time for your brain to die out when there wasn’t any oxygen. You hopped off his gurney, another nurse took over with compressions because you were getting tired; the doctor on call had given him more Narcan, but then he started to code. They attempted to shock his heart two times before they called it. He was only twenty, another young life lost.

You had gone outside for a break; you barely smoked cigarettes anymore but today was one of those days where you were really craving the nicotine. It was a warm day, summer was around the corner, but you could never shake the chills you had when a patient dies. You only had an hour left of your shift, and then you could go home, shower off the day, and then enjoy your next two days off. You were playing a puzzle game on your phone when an unknown number shows up on your screen. You answer, the man on the other end asks if it was you, you say it was, and you’re not sure if you should hang up, or keep listening.

“My name is Ted Callahan, I’m a longtime friend of the band Corroded Coffin, and their manager.”

Your breath hitches for a moment, you scratch your head, confused on what was happening. “Uh…I don’t—”

Corroded Coffin. You have known that name longer than the world has, more than half your life.

“Listen, I know this is out of the blue, but I’m kind of at a loss right now. I’m calling because, Eddie is…he’s going through some stuff right now. He’s been mentioning you a lot lately, and I never even knew you existed until a few weeks ago, but…just hearing him talk about you, and your history, even though I don’t know much. I was wondering if you could help.” He sounds kind, you say to yourself, also exhausted. You never thought you would hear his name again, or even think he'd ever want to associate himself with you again.

“Me?” You say, almost laughing. “I don’t…I haven’t spoken to Eddie in…God, going on fifteen years now. We didn’t…we didn’t end on good terms, I’m surprised he even remembers me, I…” I think about him every day still.

“He said you were his first and only love…listen, honey. I’m gonna give it to you straight here. He almost died a few weeks ago, well, not almost, he did...for probably about five minutes. He overdosed on heroin and now he is in rehab after a legal issue in New York City with a few officers and the paramedics that revived him. I know it’s not your responsibility to save him, but I thought maybe you could reach out to him somehow…a phone call, letter. I don’t know what you kids do these days.”

“He almost died?” You almost whisper it; your breath is caught in your throat and your stomach turns sour.

“I’m not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do, honey. I don’t know exactly what happened with you two, but…there’s a spark that lights up in his eyes when he talks about you that I haven’t seen in a long time. You must have been really special to him.” He tells you softly.

“I don’t know about that.” You whisper. If I was so special, why did he leave?

“Will you at least save my number? Just let me know what you decide. Again, I’m sorry to dump this all on you. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think it was gonna make an impact on him…because I think if this rehab and sobriety thing doesn’t work, I’m afraid he’ll be dead in a year.”

You rub your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’ll…I’ll think about it. I’ll save your number.”

“Thank you…you have a very kind voice.” He says and you mutter a thanks, you too, and awkwardly hang up the phone. You’re not entirely sure what to think, you just knew you had to get back to work and you would deal with this later.

You tried not to think about him on the drive home; it was hard not to. Most days you went without thinking about him even though he was so very present on your heart. You’ve dated other people off and on for years, but nothing ever stuck. They were good men, but they were lacking something you quite couldn’t put your finger on. They weren’t him. You rolls your eyes at yourself, you hated how pathetic you felt when you thought about him. He was this famous rockstar, making millions, selling out stadiums and releasing records and most likely fucking every single woman that met him, but you still loved him. You still loved him after everything he put you through, you still loved him even though it had been fifteen years. It broke your heart hearing that he was using heroin, that it had gotten so bad he is now in a rehab. You weren’t sure how helpful you would be to reach out to him, or if he would even respond. You were still shocked when Ted told you he kept talking about you. It took everything in your power not to call him back and tell him to never contact you again because that part of your life was over.

Or was it?

You thought it was over. Fifteen years ago, it was. When he had ripped out your heart and stomped on it. When he had left you standing in the middle of the street, on a cold night in Hawkins, as you silently cried, repeating the words he said: “I can’t do this anymore.” He never gave you a reason why, even as he sobbed while he was telling you those words. The next day he was actually gone; Gareth, him and Jeff loaded up his van, and had left before the sun had risen that morning. You had grieved him and were on the way to finish grad school for nursing when you saw their faces on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. After that, their songs were on the radio, they were on everyone’s social media. He was everywhere, and you couldn’t get rid of him. You hated how good their music was, and you couldn’t believe the first song on their first album was the one the two of you wrote together. You remember that day like the back of your hand; it was summertime, senior year of high school was around the corner. You were two nerds in love, and no matter where you went, he was always by your side. You had always loved writing poetry, and that was what started the idea of you writing a few verses for him.

The wind whips your hair as you attempt to turn the page in your book with one hand, trying to shift the weight of the warm body near you as your lean against the trunk of a tree. Eddie was laying in your lap, writing in his composition notebook. Your other hand was gently curling through his hair, massaging his scalp. He sets his notebook down on his stomach and gazes up at you. You look at him and smile, your eyes going back to your book. His hand reaches up to play with your hair, and he grins. “What are you reading?”

“The collected poems of Sylvia Plath.” You tell him, not meeting his eyes.

He moans softly. “’I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. I think I made you up inside my head.’”

“Didn’t know you could read.” You say with a smirk and he laughs.

“She’s the only woman that has allowed me inside her head, unlike someone I know.” He sits up, seating himself between your legs as you feel his eyes burn into the side of your face. You look at him, placing the bookmark to save your place. He’s smirking that smirk, and you lean back against the tree.

“You’ve known me your whole life, you still haven’t figured me out?” He smiles and shakes his head. You reach your hand out to grip his chin. “Am I really that hard to read?”

“Yes.” He says with a laugh. “You’re a mystery to me. I want to know what goes on inside that pretty little noggin of yours.” He leans forward, kissing your lips softly. You smile against his lips.

“Give me your notebook. I’ll give you a little taste.”

“Ooooh.” He says, groaning softly, brushing his lips against yours. “Don’t tempt me to taste other things.”

A shudder goes through you, and you try to hide your blush. He giggles, rubbing your cheek softly, pushing his notebook into your chest. “Write me a song.”

“I’m not sure if my thoughts are heavy metal material.” You tell him, turning to a blank page and uncapping the pen. He kisses your neck gently; his fingers lightly graze against the soft skin on your arm. Your eyes flutter close at his touch and you press the tip of the pen on the paper. He still gently caresses your skin, his soft lips leaving kissing trails along your neck and jaw. He was lucky you were in a public park, because you were about to say fuck the writing and lift up your dress just to feel him inside you. Well, that has never stopped you two before.

He rests his head against your shoulder, letting out a peaceful sigh as you write. You’re not sure where it had come from, it felt dark as you stare at the words. You feel Eddie’s palm gently rub over the fabric where your stomach was, gently kneading. Your stomach twitches as he tickles you and he laughs quietly. “Is that a new spot?” He bites his lip, kissing your neck again.

“Shhh, I’m almost done.” You tell him with a grin. His hand travels below your belly, gently cupping your mound and a small gasp escapes your lips. “Eddie…hands.”

“Sorry.” He mutters and kisses your cheek. He watches you as you write more on the page. You hand him back the pen and the notebook. “Read it to me.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “No, I’m embarrassed.”

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” He tells you with a sweet smile.

You sigh. “Fine. But don’t laugh at me.” He rests his head against your shoulder as you begin. “They say these ‘violent delights, have violent ends’ but is it so violent, that when the world ends in fire and ice, I’d rather freeze my soul, to be reborn, in a world not so cruel. Soulless eyes stare back into me, terrified of what they’ve seen. A little girl lost, but you found her in the pits of despair and agony. Kissed her tears, tasted her until she felt you in her very core and called you hers. A daughter of the night, the sun burns too bright, the sun burns too bright.”

Eddie lifts his head from your shoulder and stares at you in awe. “Wow…that was…”

“Horrible.”

“No! No, sweetheart.” He cups your face. “I didn’t know you could write like that. Why have you been holding out on me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I didn’t think I was that great.”

“This definitely heavy metal song material.” He takes the notebook from your hands, pressing his lips deeply against yours, holding the side of your face, his tongue licking your lips begging for entrance. You curl your fingers through his hair, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around as he kisses you. He pulls away, leaving small pecks on your lips. You were breathless, being kissed by him was always so breathtaking to you but he caught you off guard with this one.

“What was that?” You giggle, staring into his big brown eyes.

“I just…love you.” He rubs your cheek. “I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

He didn’t. And he didn’t love you, he was just lying about it, because why would it be that simple with him? That’s why this decision would make it hard for you. What would you gain from it? A mended friendship? That’s better than nothing, you thought. You didn’t want him to die; your stomach turns at the thought. What an idiot. You shake your head, what the hell was he thinking using heroin? What brought him to that point in his life to make that choice? You sigh, feeling defeated. What would you even say to him in the letter? Would you tell him that you’ve been thinking about him this whole time? No, that sounds pathetic.

You groan. You pick up the pen, and you just write.

Present Day - Eddie

I don’t think I’ve left my bedroom at all today. Maybe once to get something to eat. I was in my cabin in New York, Gareth has been staying with me. I know most of it is to keep an eye on me, but I know he doesn’t want to be alone either. It had snowed last night, there was over a foot on my property; Gareth had offered to take my truck to plow, I didn’t say no, I would’ve done it, but it probably would’ve stayed like that until Ted’s services. He wanted a combined wake and funeral; he was going to be buried where his parents were. We had to be in Vermont the day after tomorrow. I was laying on my side, staring at the wall, and I hear my bedroom door open. I feel the bed shift as Gareth lays next to me. It wasn’t unusual, us to be laying in the same bed. For months we only had my van to drive and sleep in to play music gigs across different states, and the three of us would have to get comfortable being close. “You need to get up, man.” He tells me softly.

“I will.” I mutter.

“When?” I can feel his eyes digging into the back of my skull, I squeeze my eyes shut and then snap them open. Everytime I close my eyes I see Ted’s lifeless face, I hear my cries, feel the unbearable weight of the grief.

“When I go to the bathroom again.” I feel myself smirking and I hear him chuckle a little.

“You’re scaring me.” He says after a moment of silence.

“I shouldn’t be.” I say quietly. “I don’t have a needle in my arm.”

“Not yet.”

“I love your words of support; it’s always so appreciated.” I say with an eye roll and turn on my back to face him. “I’m not gonna use again.”

He looks at me, and I see the shy, awkward little kid that I met all those years ago, the kid I took punches for, who I would still take punches for. “How do you know that?” He does look scared, exhausted, sad…really fucking sad.

I feel my throat close up as tears spring to my eyes. “Because if I do…all the work that I did…all the love and support he gave me even when I was at my worst…that all dies with him. And I can’t do that to him. Not again.”

His eyes are watery, and he looks away from me, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t lose you too, Eddie. I really, really don’t think I’d make it.”

I grab his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not going anywhere, man.”

“What are we gonna do?” He whispers, and I see a tear fall down his cheek and onto my pillow. “He was the heart of our band…what are we supposed to do? Get a new manager?”

“No.” I say, surprised at how stern I sound. “We don’t need a manager. He taught us everything we needed to know.”

“It’s not gonna be easy.” He says with a soft laugh.

“Did he ever have it easy with us?”

“With us, yes. With you?” He meets my eyes and smiles.

I laugh. “He did his best, that’s all we wanted.”

“And he was good at it.”

“That’s why we can’t get a new manager. It won’t be worth it.” I let out a loud sigh, your face flashes through my mind for a moment and I shudder, trying to not think of you. Gareth can sense my internal demise.

“You should call her.”

“No.” I say immediately.

He sits up to lean against the headboard, looking down at me. “I don’t know why you’re so upset with her. She loves you.”

“She only contacted me because Ted asked her to. That’s not love, that’s pity.” I scoff, running my hands through my hair. I smell ripe, I definitely need to shower.

“I mean…you walked out on her, Eddie. The fact that she was even willing to give you a chance again after all these years, it shows that she’s loved you this entire time. She started doing chest compressions on Ted the second I said to call 911, she didn’t even hesitate. She just did it. She is the same kind, caring, stupidly beautiful girl that she’s always been. She may have gotten older, but it didn’t hurt her insides. And she loves you, dude. I see her look at you the same way she did fifteen years ago, she’d still go to bat for you. Why does that scare you so much? To let love in like that?”

“Because why would she love me? All I’ve done is cause her pain.” My voice sounds far away; I hate feeling vulnerable.

“And have been causing yourself pain in the process. Eddie, you’ve been in love with her forever. Like since before you even started dating. You’ve been through everything together. There’s a reason why Ted reached out to her; there’s a reason why after all these years you get that chance to be with her again. Don’t let this be the thing that takes her away forever.”

I glance up at him, scowling. “I hate that you have a way with words. I just wanted to kiss you just now.”

He laughs, patting my head. “Don’t let her go. You’d be stupid to do that again.” He hops off the bed and turns to look at me from the doorway. “You fucking stink, go take a shower.”

I put up my middle finger and we both laugh; I watch as he walks away and closes my door. I sigh, groaning at the stupid regret I feel in the pits of my stomach. He was right, I’ve been in love with you for so long sometimes it was hard to breathe. I force myself out of bed; it’s like thinking of you was the push I needed. I remember the day I told you I loved you for the first time, I was having the worst anxiety; I remember Uncle Wayne telling me that the worst thing that could happen is that you wouldn’t feel the same way, and that just made me feel worse. It was just a normal night for us, we were smoking pot in the back of my van. It was cold this night, you had a fleece blanket wrapped around your knees, you were singing bohemian rhapsody in all the voices, and I couldn’t handle how funny you were being, I was almost going into a straight panic attack.

“Please, stop. I can’t…I can’t breathe!” I laugh loudly.

“For meeeeee, for meeeeeeeee!” You start head banging and ended up whacking your head off of Gareth’s high hat, which causes me to laugh even harder. “Ow! Fuck.” You laugh holding your head and I gently lift your hair to check to make sure there wasn’t a severe injury.

“That’s what you get.” I laugh, gently smoothing out your hair. You giggle, moving Gareth’s high hat out of the way to make more room. You were wearing a black zip up hoodie, and only a bra underneath. I only knew that because when you leaned over I could only see the hills of your breasts. And I know that’s why you were so cold. Oh, how I wanted to unzip that hoodie even lower, just to see you, see all of you. I hated my hormonal thoughts, it always gave me an erection whenever I thought of you that way. And I have always thought of you as something more, not just my best friend, but someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. I felt stupid thinking like that, we were only seventeen, we were babies.

“What?” You snap me out of my thought.

“Huh?” I say.

You laugh. “You’re just staring at me, are you having a moment? Are you too high?”

“Let’s not talk about whether I’m too high or not because you know it will send me into a spiral thinking my eyeballs aren’t closing.” I laugh nervously.

“They’re not closing.” You smirk at me.

I growl at you. “Don’t be an asshole.”

You laugh loudly, nudging me with your shoulder, moving yourself onto my lap. I could feel how cold you were, so I wrap my arms around the top of you, gently rubbing your shoulders. It wasn’t unusual for you to do this, we have always been each other's human security blankets, but I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I needed to tell you, just to get it out. Just to let you know that I’ve loved you since I understood what that word meant. That if you didn’t feel the same way, at least you’d know. I’m playing with your hair; my fingers gently go behind your neck and massage the skin. You softly moan a little, and I swallow hard.

“I have to tell you something.” I whisper to you. You turn your head in my lap to look at me, you have a small smile on your face. My hand gently goes to your chin, and I let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” You sit up to look at me.

“I…I um…” I laugh nervously, running my hands through my hair. I stare at your face, your lips. “I’m in love with you.” I give you a little shrug and a small smile.

You stare at me for a moment, and I can see the gears in your brain turning. “I know this is out of nowhere and I’m sorry…even if you don’t feel the same I just wanted you to-“

Your lips are on mine suddenly, your hands cup my face. My hands nervously go to your waist as the kiss deepens, I feel your tongue graze mine gently, and I shudder. You pull away, staring into my eyes, my lips. You hold my face and I stare at you in awe. “I love you too.” You whisper and I can feel my grin getting wider.

“Really?” I ask you and you nod.

“Since forever.” You say, leaning forward to kiss me again, I hold your face when we pull away. “You’re my person.”

I smile again, pressing my lips to yours. You push your body onto mine, straddling my waist with your legs. I wrap both my arms around your waist, moving slightly to lay you on your back. The rug to my van was an old shag carpet, but it was comfortable. You didn’t feel cold anymore. Your hands move under my shirt, I shudder at your touch, your soft hands. I move my lips to your neck, pulling the zipper down, kissing both hills of your breasts. You let out a soft sigh, your fingers curling through my hair as I cup one of your breasts, kissing in between them. I grip your jean clad thigh, hooking it tighter around my waist and grind against you. The friction plus the pressure causes a throaty moan to escape me and you sit up. You stare at me, your lips swollen from our kiss, and you unzip the hoodie, sliding it off of you and I watch as your hands to behind your back, unhooking your bra. The straps fall slightly down your shoulders and I watch as you shyly let the bra slip away from you. I lean back on my heels, my palms on your knee as my eyes scan your body. I’ve always imagined this; but this was better than what I had imagined. I lean forward between your legs, kissing you deeply. My lips go down to your neck, and I glance up at you, making sure everything was still okay before I did what I did. You lean back to get more comfortable, and I pull your nipple into my mouth. You let out a moan, which caused me to almost explode in my own jeans. The closest I’ve ever gone with a girl was feeling her up, this was brand new to me, and I could tell it was for you too. I wanted to taste all of you, I wanted to know what your sex tasted like, I wanted to know what would make you scream. I move my lips down to kiss your ribs, your naval and I snap the button of your jeans. You arch your hips, helping me pull them down and this is the first time I’m seeing you in your underwear. My fingers knead your thighs and I look into your eyes.

“Can I taste you?”

Your face turns crimson, it made you look so much more beautiful, and you nod, biting your lip. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You know I haven’t.” I laugh, and I stare at you as I move my palm to the top of your underwear. The fabric was damp, and I feel a smile toy at my lips, gently moving your underwear to the side. My hands shake a little as the tips of my fingers graze your clit, I watch as your head falls back, and a soft moan escapes you. I rub you gently, feeling your opening. I gently slide a finger into you and your back arches, I couldn’t believe how tight you felt. I scoot back to my stomach, wrapping my arms around your thighs, staring at your beautiful, beautiful pussy. You lean up on your elbows to look at me; and I flick my tongue out, gently kissing your clit. You gasp and something awakens inside me. You taste so good, so sweet, and I bury my face into your folds, devouring you. I didn’t even know if I was doing it right, but from the sounds you were making; I think I was doing okay. Your fingers pull my hair and I feel my dick twitch as you moan loudly. “Right there, baby.” You moan out, and I moan in response; you sounded so sexy, so breathless.

I pull away to look up at you. “Like this?” I lick a long wet stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking gently. You tremble beneath me, your chest heaving with gasps and moans.

“Oh…my…Eddie.” You moan. I groan in response, tasting all of you, sucking you until your moans get louder and I’m pretty positive you’re about to come. Your head falls back in pleasure, and a loud, hot, moan escapes your lungs and you’re coming in my mouth. I stick my tongue around your hole, feeling you clench, tasting your juices and gripping your thighs until you can’t take it anymore. It’s so intoxicating I don’t want to stop. Your eyes are closed as you settle your breathing, I sit back on my heels, wiping my face and smile at you. You sit up, grabbing the back of my head and kiss me. You moan against my mouth, and a groan escapes me when I feel your hand cup my erection over my jeans. You pull away from me, quickly undoing the button on my jeans and pulling them down past my legs. I see your eyes widen when I spring to life, and you smile.

You look up at me, your hands gently rub my thighs, my ass and I shudder under your touch. I move to my back, highly aware of how exposed I felt with your eyes scanning my body. I immediately feel shy, and I honestly couldn’t tell you why. You sense how nervous I am, and you crawl up my body. Your hand tickles my chest and you kiss me gently. I hold your waist, gripping your skin and you pull back to look at me. I swallow hard as you lean down to kiss my neck, making soft pecks along my chest, moving down to my abdomen. A moan escapes me when I feel your hands gently grab my cock, rubbing your soft hands over the velvety ness of it. I gasp when I feel your lips kiss the tip; I could tell you were nervous too, but I swear as soon as you took my whole length into your mouth, you knew exactly what to do. A broken moan escapes me, and you quickly pull your head back.

“I’m sorry…did I…”

“No, no.” I say breathlessly, grabbing your wrist. “That was really good, keep going.”

Your mouth is on me again, and I groan, feeling your tongue swirl around my shaft, move down towards my balls. I moan loudly, my head falls back against the bottom of the high hat, which causes a humorous sound and I end up laughing while moaning. You throat me deeper and I hold your hair. I want to know what you feel like inside, I want to feel that beautiful pussy clench around my cock. I pull your head up to look at you.

“I wanna feel you.” I whisper.

You sit back, smiling that beautiful smile. You nod, biting your lower lip. I scoot up, taking your face in my hands and kiss you deeply. I turn you around so you’re on your back, gently grazing my fingertips over your skin. I bite my bottom lip, staring at your naked body. You were so beautiful. I feel a blush rise to my cheeks as I stare at you, and you smile sweetly.

“You nervous?” You ask me and I nod.

“A little.”

“Me too.” You say, reaching up to cup my face as I hover above you. I smile into your palm and a thought crosses my mind.

“Oh.” I lean back, go into my wallet, pulling out a condom. I tear it open with my teeth, staring at the rubber like it was a bomb.

“I think it goes…” you sit up a little, taking the condom and sliding it down my shaft. I shudder but I’m equally embarrassed.

“Pretty pathetic that I don’t know how to put a condom on.” I laugh awkwardly, leaning down to hover over you again.

“You’re not pathetic. If you’re pathetic; I’m pathetic. I’ve never had an orgasm until you.”

My eyes widen at your confession. “No way. Even when you play with yourself?”

You shake your head. “I guess I didn’t do it right.” You laugh and smile at me. “Looks like we have to teach each other things.”

I smirk, gently leaning down to kiss your lips. I rub your cheek, caresses your hair. “If it hurts, you tell me, okay? And I’ll stop.”

You nod, I could feel you shaking. I was shaking too, but I wasn’t sure if it was nerves, excitement or both. You open your legs a little wider for me, and I kiss you gently, my hand palming your entrance and I pull my hand away to line myself up with you. I slowly push myself in, and a grunt escapes me, you let out a soft gasp and I feel you clench.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask, panic in my voice as I stop pushing in.

“No, it just stings a little. Keep going.” You whisper, gripping my forearms. I push myself in further and I hear you coo; I look at your face and you’re biting your lip. You were so fucking tight, so tight that it was starting to hurt me, and I didn’t know what to do next. I feel you roll your hips into mine and I gently pull myself out a little and move back in. You moan, and a throaty growl escapes me as I quicken the movements in my hips. You felt so good, and I wanted to go faster but I didn’t want to hurt you.

“Faster, baby.” You moan, like you read my mind. I stare into your eyes, and you kiss me deeply, letting me know that it was okay. I move my hips faster, the sensation of the friction, plus the sounds that were coming from you were turning me into a wild fucking animal. “Ohhh…”

I could feel my orgasm building in my belly, and once I feel your hands grab my ass to push me deeper into you, it was all over. We were both moaning so loud, and I honestly didn’t remember which way up. You gasp loudly, and I feel you clench around me. “Oh baby…I think I’m gonna come again…”

“Fuck…I’m close…” my head falls back in pleasure, and I slow my rhythm down, my hips bucking as I come into the condom, and you’re fucking screaming my name, clenching all around me. Your nails claw at my back and I’m groaning into your neck as I ride out the rest of my orgasm, and you gasp out beautiful, beautiful sounds that was music to my ears.

I swallow back the lump in my throat as I lay my head in the crook of your neck. Your hands are in my hair, holding me to you. I look at you and you smile at me, kissing me so softly, sweetly. And at that moment, all was right in the world.

Gareth had driven my car to Vermont, I couldn’t stomach the drive. I think I puked three times before getting in the car because I’m still having a hard time processing what we were doing and why we were going to Vermont. I think I chain smoked a whole pack of cigarettes the way there. I was texting with my sponsor the whole way there too, he was a good guy, making me feel better about myself on how it was normal to be feeling the way I did. I didn’t want to use, but I didn’t want to feel anything. He also suggested I reach out to you after the services, and I shut that down. I didn’t want to think about you, I just wanted to focus on the fucked-up fact I was about to bury the one man I considered a father. We pull up to the funeral home, it looked like a beautiful cottage. A large window overlooked a frozen lake. I get out of the car on shaky legs; I could feel Gareth’s eyes on me.

I turn to look at him. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t look it.” He mumbles.

“Neither do you.” I slam the car door and we both walk up the stone steps into the funeral home. We enter the place, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the aroma of floral arrangements I want to gag. We sign the guest book, and I have to pause in the double doorway when I see the shiney black opened casket. I don’t even see the people in the seats, or the people who have been in the music industry longer than I have. I just zero in on the box and Julie standing right next to it. She meets my eyes, and she’s already pushing her way through people to get to me. I’m falling into her, my forehead is resting against her small shoulder, I’m breathing in the smell of her shampoo and her Chanel perfume. She’s hugging me close, and I begin to weep.

“Oh, my sweet boy…” She says gently in my ear.

“It doesn’t seem real, it’s not right…” I pull away to look at her, to glance at the casket. “It’s not okay.” The tears are hot on my cheeks, and I feel Gareth stiffen next to me as he tries to control his own tears. She kisses my cheek, taking my hand, leading me up to the casket. I stop when I see Nellie, she meets my eyes, and she’s immediately sobbing. I hug her to me, cupping the back of her head as she buries her face into my chest. She was a few years younger than me, and she always felt like a sister, and I immediately feel riddled with guilt that I spent so many years chasing a high when she would send me birthday cards from her kids, or birthday party invitations. Even when I wasn’t on tour, I would make up some excuse. I couldn’t do that anymore. No more excuses.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper to her, and there’s so many reasons behind that. Her fingers grip into my back and she nods against my chest.

“Don’t disappear on me again, okay?” She pulls away to look at me. “The kids need their Uncle Eddie.”

I swallow a sob, and nod, gently kissing the top of her head. I look over at the casket, and I slowly make my way over. He was dressed in his best blazer that he had custom made, a vintage Van Halen t shirt covers his chest underneath. His shaggy dirty blonde hair was styled neatly. I couldn’t look at his face. I just stared at his chest; my vision was blurring. I felt the similar ache in my belly when I thought of you, except you were still alive. Ted was dead. I finally look at his face, and a sound escapes my lungs. I sound like a whimpering dog; I couldn’t control it, I just started to weep. I rest my head against the kneeling bench, feeling Julie’s arms wrap around me. I felt pathetic, crying like this, in front of all these people. Ted was the reason we got to where we were…Ted was also the reason that got me back to you.

And I didn’t know how to keep going without him.

I disassociated during the burial, I don’t remember who I spoke to, who I hugged. All I remember is coming back to my cabin with Gareth, neither one of us saying a word to each other. I had peeled off my suit jacket, kicked off my shoes and plopped on the chair in my kitchen. I lit up a cigarette, letting the smoke billow in my lungs. I stare up at my liquor cabinet, knowing that I had a half empty bottle of bourbon hidden in there. The chair skids against the floor as I get up, go into the cabinet, and pull the bottle down. I pull the cap off the bottle, staring at the brown liquid. My heart was racing, I could feel my ears pulsating as my thoughts were swimming in my brain.

You know where this can lead to. Ted’s voice echoes in my head.

“Fuck off.” I whisper through my teeth.

You’ve come so far.

“FUCK OFF!” I scream, pitching the bottle against the wall next to my refrigerator and it shatters, the liquid spilling to the floor. I yell again, punching the wood of my cabinets until my knuckles bled. I slide to the floor; Gareth comes running in from the back bedroom.

“Jesus, Eddie…” He says quietly, his eyes scanning the broken glass, my bloody hand, and the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Did you know…the last time Ted was here, I was detoxing? Right on that couch.” I let out a chuckle, pointing out into the living room. “Unwillingly of course, or maybe willingly, I don’t fucking know. I was heading into the depths of madness at that point, but he had shown up. I was convinced you had sent these little demon creatures to come kill me or hurt him and somehow, he convinced me to get rid of my dope.” I laugh again, almost manically. “The last time that man was in my house, I was a complete fucking monster. I hated him, I hated him for making me go through the pain. I hated him because he cared about me so fucking much, he’d rather sit there and watch me cry and scream in pain. Why, man?” I look up at Gareth, my lips trembling. “Why did he care about me so much? After everything I had done. After who I became?”

“Eddie…” I could tell he’s lost for words. He slides down to the floor next to me, and I just stare at him. He pulls me by my shirt, pulling me into him. He cradles me like a baby, and I just sob into his chest. “You know why, dude. He loved you.”

I scoff, wiping the snot from my nose. “I was unlovable. And I fucking manipulated him so many times. I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack back then.”

“Eddie.” Gareth says sternly. “If you are blaming yourself for his death, you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought. Things like this just happen sometimes, man. Whether it’s natural, or unnatural. When I was so fucking at you when it got really bad, when I thought I was staring into the eyes of a person who murdered my brother…Ted would always tell me that he knew you were still in there. That you would come out of this, and look…you came out of it.”

“It’s not that simple, man.” I say through my teeth, my throat bobbing as I’m trying to stop from sobbing again. “Everyday I have to fight…I have to hold back the urge to go and use…and now…now I have all this love…all this love that has no place to go…he was a fucking dad to us, Gareth. And now he’s gone…he’s just…gone.”

Gareth doesn’t say anything more, he just holds me tighter as I cry.

Rabbit hole

Where did you go?

Rabbit hole

Where did…

I haven’t showered in three days; Gareth left yesterday.

I pace in my kitchen, already on my fourth cup of coffee, and it’s not even noon.

My phone rings, I send it to voicemail, sending a reassuring text that I’m okay.

I’m really not, but I don’t have a needle in my arm.

So, there’s that.

It’s been a week; I finally showered. I dreamt of you last night.

I grip the pen in my hand, flapping the composition notebook as I continue to pace in the living room.

My therapist is here.

I don’t say much.

She looks afraid for me.

Maybe, she should be.

She suggested anti-depressants.

I said no, I numbed my feelings for too long, I had to pay the price and feel things without the help of a medicine.

Dying seems better than this existence.

Maybe I already died, and I’m just living in this vessel of a body that is rotten.

Fuck, Eddie. That’s dark.

I laugh to myself, continuing to pace. Looks like I don’t need the drugs to be an actual fucking madman.

Mad hatter, too much tea

Mad hatter, look at me, look at me,

I’m a fucking disease.

Every time I close my eyes, I see you. I see your smile, I hear your laugh, I feel your touch.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why am I standing here alone?

I miss you.

I miss him.

No. No. No.

Gareth is right.

I can’t lose you.

Not again.

NOT AGAIN.

I take the keys to my truck, awkwardly pulling my boots on as I stumble out the door.

Looks like I’m going to Maine.

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