#inseparable. venom.

[vulpinesaint]

man. man...........

[age-of-moonknight]

“What If Venom Bonded to Moon Knight?” What If…? Venom (Vol. 1/2024), #5.

Writer: Jeremy Holt; Pencilers and Inkers: Jesús Hervás and Geraldo Borges; Colorist: Ceci de la Cruz; Letterer: Ariana Maher

[pucksandpower]

Royal Pardon

Charles Leclerc x Arthur’s best friend!Reader

Summary: Charles isn’t a violent man at heart, but when he saves you from being harassed while celebrating his Monaco win, he quickly realizes that there’s not a single line he wouldn’t cross if it means keeping you safe

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence, and injury

Note: a break from your regularly scheduled October programming because Charles just won the United States GP and that calls for a celebration

The music pulses through the club, a steady, hypnotic beat that thrums in Charles’ chest. He’s never felt like this — untouchable, invincible — as if tonight could stretch on forever, an endless loop of victory and laughter.

He’s just won Monaco.

Monaco. His Monaco.

The thought alone makes him smile, a small, private thing that he hides behind the rim of his champagne flute.

Around him, the crowd swirls in a blur of lights and shadows, everyone shouting their congratulations over the music, pulling him into hugs and clapping him on the back. Arthur is here somewhere, of course, dragging you along because where else would you be? The two of you are like shadows, inseparable since childhood.

Charles can still see you, just barely, out of the corner of his eye, chatting with a couple of Arthur’s friends near the bar. You’re laughing, a sound that somehow cuts through the noise and settles in the back of his mind. It’s a good sound, one that feels familiar, like home.

“Charles, mate!” A voice shouts, pulling him back. Max is there, leaning in with a grin that’s all teeth, like he’s just as buzzed on adrenaline as Charles is. “I swear, you’re going to be insufferable after this. Monaco, finally!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, though the truth is he probably will be insufferable. But can anyone blame him? He’s worked so damn hard for this, pushing through every setback, every disappointment. And now, here he is, celebrating the win of his career in the only place that really matters.

He’s about to respond when someone else pulls him into a hug, a flurry of excitement and congratulations that Charles barely processes. He doesn’t mind, though. Tonight, it feels like nothing can touch him, like nothing could ever bring him down from this high.

But then, something shifts. It’s subtle at first, just an itch at the back of his mind, a sense that something isn’t right. He glances over to where you and Arthur were standing, but Arthur is gone, nowhere to be seen. And you … you’re not laughing anymore.

Charles’ stomach twists. You’re cornered against the bar now, a man leaning in too close, too aggressive. Charles can’t see your face clearly through the throng of people, but the way you’re holding yourself, tense and small, tells him everything he needs to know.

His blood turns to ice, freezing the euphoria in his veins. He can’t hear what the man is saying, but it doesn’t matter. The way the man’s hand snakes around your waist, the way you try to push him off with trembling hands — Charles’ vision goes red.

He’s moving before he can think, pushing through the crowd with a single-minded focus. The people congratulating him moments ago scatter as he brushes past them, their laughter and cheers fading into the background noise.

“Hey!” Charles’ voice cuts through the music, sharp and commanding. The man doesn’t even turn at first, but you do, your eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Charles feels something break inside him at the sight, but he channels it into a fury that propels him forward.

When the man finally notices Charles, it’s too late. Charles is on him, grabbing the man’s shoulder and yanking him away from you with a force that sends the man stumbling backward. “Get the fuck away from her,” Charles snarls, every syllable dripping with venom.

The man barely has time to react before Charles slams him against the wall, the impact rattling the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. Charles’ forearm presses against the man’s throat, cutting off whatever protest he might have had.

“Charles, stop!” You gasp, your voice choked with a mix of fear and something else, something that twists the knife already lodged in Charles’ chest. He doesn’t stop, though. Can’t stop. The image of the man’s hands on you is burned into his mind, and all he can think about is making him pay, making him hurt.

The man struggles, clawing at Charles’ arm, but it’s useless. Charles is stronger, fueled by a rage that’s been simmering just beneath the surface for too long. The man’s face turns red, then purple, and still, Charles doesn’t let up. His grip tightens, and he leans in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“If you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and deadly serious. The man’s eyes widen, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face, but Charles doesn’t care. He wants him to be scared. Wants him to know that there’s no escaping this, no escaping the consequences of what he’s done.

“Charles, please!” Your voice breaks through the haze of anger, and it’s only then that Charles realizes how close you’ve gotten. You’re right there, your hand on his arm, tugging gently, desperately trying to pull him away.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and sees the tears streaming down your face, the fear etched into your features. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, shocking him back to reality. The club, the music, the people — all of it comes rushing back in a disorienting wave.

Charles blinks, his grip on the man loosening just enough for the man to gasp for air. He’s still furious, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but he’s no longer blind with it. He takes a breath, then another, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“You’re lucky she’s here,” Charles says quietly, his voice barely more than a growl. He shoves the man away from him, watching with cold satisfaction as he stumbles and nearly falls to the floor.

The man doesn’t stick around. He scrambles to his feet and disappears into the crowd, no doubt eager to get as far away from Charles as possible. Good. Charles hopes he never sees the man again, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself if he does.

For a moment, Charles just stands there, his chest heaving with the effort of reining in his emotions. The crowd has started to notice the commotion, a few curious onlookers craning their necks to see what’s going on. But none of that matters. None of them matter.

All that matters is you.

Charles turns to you, his expression softening as he takes in your tear-streaked face. “Are you okay?” His voice is gentler now, full of concern that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You nod, but it’s a shaky, uncertain thing. “I-I’m fine,” you manage, though it’s clear you’re anything but. You look like you’re about to collapse, your legs barely holding you up.

Without thinking, Charles steps closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You don’t resist, you just sink into him, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is.

“It’s okay,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now. I’m here.” He holds you tighter, as if he can shield you from the world, from everything that just happened. And for a moment, it feels like he can. Like nothing bad can touch you as long as you’re in his arms.

You don’t say anything, just press your face into his chest, your breath hitching with the remnants of your tears. Charles presses his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that feels both instinctive and impossibly intimate. He’s never held you like this before, never been this close, but it feels right.

The music still pounds in the background, the lights still flash in a dizzying array of colors, but it’s all distant now, muted. The only thing that matters is you, and making sure you’re okay.

Charles pulls back just enough to look down at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Where’s Arthur?” He asks, his voice still soft but edged with a protective concern.

“I-I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “He was here a minute ago, and then …” Your words trail off, and Charles doesn’t need you to finish the sentence to know what happened next.

He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his anger in check. Arthur should have been here, should have been looking out for you, but he isn’t. Charles isn’t sure where his brother is right now, but he’ll deal with that later. For now, he needs to focus on you.

“It’s okay,” he says again, though the words feel inadequate. “You’re with me now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

You nod again, but this time it’s a little steadier, a little more certain. “Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the music.

Charles shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice rougher than he intends. “I’ll always protect you. Always.”

The weight of those words hangs between you, a promise that feels more real than anything else in this moment. Charles knows, without a doubt, that he means it. He’ll protect you, no matter what. Even if it means facing down every threat, every danger, with the same ferocity he showed tonight.

He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the lingering anger. The night isn’t over yet, but he’s not sure how much longer he can stand to be here, in this place that suddenly feels too crowded, too loud, too full of people who didn’t notice, didn’t care. Charles’ grip tightens on your shoulders as he scans the room, trying to spot Arthur in the sea of faces. But it’s a lost cause — the club is packed, and he knows Arthur could be anywhere.

“Come on,” Charles says, his voice a bit steadier now. “Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t argue, just nod and let him guide you through the crowd. The bodies pressing in around you both feel suffocating, the music that once electrified the night now grating on Charles’ nerves. He keeps a firm hold on your hand, as if letting go might mean losing you to the chaos.

As you near the exit, the cool night air becomes a welcome relief, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat inside. The streets of Monaco are quieter now, the party shifting indoors as the night grows late. Charles doesn’t stop moving until you’re both far enough from the club that the noise fades into a dull hum, barely audible over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

He finally releases your hand, only to immediately wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You’re shivering, whether from the cold or the shock, Charles isn’t sure. Either way, he holds you tighter, wishing he could do more, say more.

But the words don’t come easily. They never have. So instead, he just walks with you, slowly, allowing the night air to calm the both of you. You lean into him, and he can feel the tension gradually leaving your body, though you still seem a little too fragile, too breakable.

Charles isn’t sure how long you walk like that, side by side in the near silence, before you finally speak.

“Charles, I …” Your voice is hesitant, unsure. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”

He stops walking, turning to face you, his expression serious. “You don’t have to think about that,” he says, his voice firm. “I was there. And I always will be.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for something — reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just understanding. “But what if next time-”

“There won’t be a next time.” Charles cuts you off, his voice harder than he intends. He takes a breath, softening his tone. “I won’t let there be a next time.”

He can see the worry still etched on your face, the remnants of fear that haven’t quite faded. He wishes he could take it all away, erase the memory of that man and the way he made you feel. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there, to protect you, to make sure you know that you’re not alone.

“You’re safe,” he repeats, quieter now, but with no less conviction. “As long as I’m here, you’re safe.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, and he wonders what you’re thinking, what’s going on behind those eyes that have always been so easy for him to read. Eventually, you nod, and some of the tension in your posture seems to melt away.

“Okay,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Charles nods too, though a part of him still feels on edge, like the danger hasn’t completely passed. But he pushes that feeling down, focusing instead on you, on the fact that you’re here with him, and that’s all that matters right now.

“Let’s go,” he says again, but this time, his voice is softer, more gentle. He takes your hand again, lacing his fingers with yours, and starts walking, leading you away from the club, from the noise and the memories that he hopes you’ll never have to revisit.

As you walk, the tension between you both begins to ease. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of the sea, and for the first time in what feels like hours, Charles allows himself to breathe.

He glances over at you, your profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. You look calmer now, more like yourself, though there’s still a shadow of what happened lingering in your eyes. Charles’ heart aches at the sight, at the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from that, even if he was there to stop it from getting worse.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he just keeps walking, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

Eventually, you reach the familiar streets that lead back to your apartment. The night is quiet now, the revelry of earlier giving way to the peaceful stillness of a city that’s finally starting to sleep.

When you reach your building, you both stop, lingering on the sidewalk as if neither of you wants the night to end just yet. Charles knows he should say something, anything, but the words are stuck in his throat, too heavy and too complicated to untangle.

You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice soft but clear. “Thank you. For everything.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says, echoing his earlier words. “I meant what I said — I’ll always protect you.”

There’s a pause, a beat of silence that stretches on just long enough to make Charles wonder if you’re going to say something more. But you don’t. Instead, you step closer and, without warning, wrap your arms around him in a tight hug.

Charles is momentarily stunned, his breath catching in his throat as he processes the warmth of your embrace, the way you cling to him like he’s your anchor in a storm. He hesitates for only a second before his arms come up around you, holding you just as tightly, if not more.

The hug lasts longer than it probably should, but neither of you seems to want to let go. When you finally do, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his with a softness that makes his chest tighten.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice equally soft, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile moment between you.

You give him one last, lingering look before turning and heading into your building, the door closing softly behind you. Charles stands there for a moment, staring at the door, as if willing it to open again, as if hoping you might come back out and say something more.

But you don’t, and eventually, Charles turns and starts walking back the way you came, his thoughts a tangled mess of emotions he’s not sure how to deal with.

The night is still, the only sound the distant crash of the waves against the rocks. Charles lets the quiet seep into him, trying to find some semblance of calm, but it’s difficult. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, keeps flashing through his mind, a constant reminder of how close you came to being hurt.

He knows he should feel relief — that you’re safe, that the night ended without further incident. But instead, all he feels is a gnawing sense of guilt, of not having been there sooner, of not being able to protect you from everything.

Charles clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he walks. He doesn’t want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there, doesn’t want to imagine the fear and pain you might have endured.

But he can’t stop the thoughts from coming, can’t shake the anger that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

As he rounds the corner to his own street, Charles makes a silent vow to himself. He’ll be more vigilant, more careful. He won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. He’ll be there, always, to protect you, no matter what.

And if anyone tries to come between you and your safety again, well … Charles isn’t sure he’ll be able to hold back next time.

He reaches his apartment, but he doesn’t go inside right away. Instead, he stands outside, staring up at the stars barely visible above the city lights, his mind still racing with thoughts of you.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns to unlock his door, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. The apartment is dark and silent, but it doesn’t feel like home tonight. It feels empty, hollow, as if something is missing.

And Charles knows exactly what that something is.

As he heads to bed, his thoughts are still on you — on the way you looked at him tonight, on the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And somewhere, deep down, Charles knows that you’re more than just Arthur’s best friend to him.

But he’s not ready to confront that just yet. Not tonight.

So he pushes the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the promise he made to himself: to always be there for you, to protect you, no matter what.

It’s a promise he intends to keep.

***

The morning sun stretches over Monaco, its golden rays catching on the waves that lap against the harbor. The city is just beginning to stir, and for a moment, everything feels like it should: calm, peaceful, normal. But as Charles hits his stride on his morning run, his mind is anything but calm.

The events of last night replay in his head on a loop, the image of you — shaken, scared, fighting back tears — burned into his memory. Every step he takes feels heavier, weighted down by the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s tried to push it down, to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement, but it’s no use. The rage is still there, as fresh and raw as it was the moment he saw you in that club.

Charles turns a corner, heading down toward the harbor where the yachts bob gently in the water. The morning air is crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in his chest. He needs to clear his head, to shake off the lingering sense of helplessness that clings to him like a shadow.

But then he sees him.

The man is walking casually along the harbor, hands in his pockets, his face a picture of smug indifference. He looks like any other tourist enjoying a morning stroll, not like someone who was grabbing you, hurting you, just hours ago.

Charles stops dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, he thinks he’s imagining it, that his mind is playing tricks on him. But no, it’s him. The same face, the same sneer that Charles wanted to wipe off with his fist last night.

Something snaps inside Charles. The anger he’s been trying to control, trying to bury, erupts like a dam breaking, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His vision narrows, locking onto the man who dared to touch you, who thought he could get away with it.

Without thinking, Charles changes direction, his strides long and purposeful as he closes the distance between them. The man doesn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts a man like him could have. But then, as Charles gets closer, something makes the man glance over his shoulder.

His reaction is immediate. The smug look falters, replaced by a flicker of recognition, then quickly by a lazy grin that only fuels Charles’ rage.

“Well, well,” the man drawls, stopping to face Charles, clearly not sensing the danger. “If it isn’t the big hero himself. What’s the matter, Leclerc? Didn’t get enough attention last night?”

Charles doesn’t answer, his jaw clenched so tightly he can feel his teeth grind together. He’s close enough now to smell the lingering stench of alcohol on the man’s breath, the same breath that spewed vile words at you.

The man chuckles, a sound that grates on Charles’ nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “You know, she had it coming,” he says, his tone almost conversational. “The way she was dressed, the way she looked at me — what did she expect?”

That’s all it takes. The words cut through Charles like a knife, sharp and searing, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, shoving him back against the railing of the harbor.

“What did you say?” Charles’ voice is low, dangerous, barely more than a growl. His knuckles are white where they grip the man’s shirt, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

The man’s grin only widens, unfazed by the fury in Charles’ eyes. “You heard me,” he sneers. “And you know what? There’s nothing you can do about it. We’re in public, Leclerc. You’re a famous guy — can’t have your precious image tarnished, can you?”

Charles’ lips curl into a smile, but it’s not the kind that reaches his eyes. It’s cold, calculated, the kind of smile that sends a chill down the spine. “You think I care about that?” He asks, his voice dangerously calm.

The man’s bravado falters just a bit, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah, I do. You’re not gonna do anything. Not here, not in front of all these people.”

Charles laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just a bitter edge that makes the man shift uncomfortably. “You really don’t get it, do you?” Charles says, his voice softening into something almost pitying. “This is Monaco. And I’m Charles Leclerc.”

The man’s face pales slightly, but he still tries to hold his ground. “So what? You think being a driver gives you a free pass to do whatever you want?”

Charles’ smile widens, though there’s nothing friendly about it. “Exactly.”

Before the man can react, Charles yanks him away from the railing, dragging him along the harbor. The man stumbles, trying to pull away, but Charles’ grip is ironclad, unyielding. The few people who are out this early watch with interest, some even clapping or calling out congratulations as they recognize Charles.

“Hey, what the hell?” The man protests, his voice rising in panic as he struggles against Charles’ hold. “Let go of me!”

Charles doesn’t respond, his eyes focused straight ahead as he forces the man to walk, his grip tightening whenever he feels him start to resist. The man’s attempts to free himself are pathetic, laughable even, compared to the strength Charles has built up over years of training, of pushing his body to the limits.

As they pass by a group of people, one of them cheers, “That’s the way, Charles! Show him who’s boss!”

The man tries to appeal to the onlookers, his voice frantic. “Someone stop him! He’s crazy!”

But no one moves to help. They just watch, some amused, others indifferent, as Charles continues to drag the man through the streets of Monaco like he’s nothing more than a piece of trash that needs to be disposed of.

“Where are you taking me?” The man demands, his voice trembling now as fear starts to seep in. “You can’t do this! I’ll-I’ll call the police!”

Charles’ laugh is cold and devoid of any warmth. “Go ahead,” he says, not slowing down for a second. “Tell them Charles Leclerc is dealing with a problem. See how far that gets you.”

The man’s protests grow weaker, his struggles more desperate, but it’s clear he knows there’s no escaping this. Charles is too strong, too determined, and the reality of his situation is starting to sink in.

The two of them reach a more secluded part of the harbor, where the buildings are fewer and the noise of the city fades into the background. There’s no one around to witness what’s about to happen, no one to hear the man’s cries for help.

Charles comes to a stop in a narrow alleyway, shoving the man against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of him. He leans in close, his face inches from the man’s, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“You made a mistake last night,” Charles says, his tone icy. “You thought you could get away with it because you were in a crowded club, because she was alone. You thought no one would stop you.”

The man’s eyes are wide with fear now, all traces of his earlier arrogance gone. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“But you did,” Charles cuts him off, his voice like steel. “You meant every word, every touch, every threat. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

The man tries to push Charles away, his movements frantic, but Charles is relentless. He grabs the man by the throat, pinning him against the wall, his grip just tight enough to make him understand how serious this is.

“You think I can’t do anything to you because we’re in public?” Charles hisses, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “You’re wrong. In Monaco, I can do whatever I want. And no one will stop me.”

The man’s hands claw at Charles’ arm, trying to pry his fingers away from his throat, but it’s useless. Charles is too strong, too focused, his anger giving him a surge of power that the man can’t hope to match.

Charles leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You hurt someone I care about. Someone I’ve known my whole life. And for that, I’m going to make sure you never forget what happens when you cross me.”

The man’s breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he realizes the gravity of his situation. He tries to speak, to beg for mercy, but Charles isn’t interested in hearing his excuses.

“Please …” the man finally manages to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry …”

Charles’ eyes narrow, his grip tightening for a moment before he abruptly lets go, letting the man collapse to the ground in a heap. The man gasps for air, his hands trembling as he scrambles to his feet, his eyes wide with fear.

But Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the collar, dragging him deeper into the alley, where the shadows swallow them both. The man’s struggles are weak now, more out of instinct than any real hope of escape.

“People like you,” Charles says, his voice low and menacing, “think you can do whatever you want. But here’s the truth: you’re nothing. Just another coward who preys on the vulnerable. And cowards like you don’t get to walk away.”

The alley is cold and dark, the early morning light barely reaching the grimy corners where Charles drags the man like a lifeless doll. The sounds of Monaco are distant now, just a low hum that fades into the background. The only noise that matters is the ragged breathing of the man at Charles’ mercy, and the echo of their footsteps on the uneven pavement.

Charles stops abruptly, his grip still tight on the man’s collar. He looks around, taking in the silence, the isolation. This place, this forgotten corner of the city, is perfect. No one will find them here. No one will hear what happens next.

He shoves the man against the wall again, harder this time, the force of it knocking the breath out of him. The man lets out a choked gasp, his eyes wide with fear, the bravado from earlier completely gone.

“Please,” he stammers, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean-”

Charles cuts him off with a sharp punch to the gut, and the man doubles over, wheezing. “Don’t bother,” Charles says coldly. “You’re not sorry. You’re just scared. There’s a difference.”

The man tries to straighten up, but Charles doesn’t give him the chance. He lands another punch, this time to the man’s jaw, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man’s head snaps to the side, blood already beginning to trickle from his split lip.

“You like hurting people, don’t you?” Charles asks, his voice calm, almost conversational as he paces in front of the man. “That’s what you were doing last night, right? You saw her and you thought you could do whatever you wanted.”

The man groans, trying to push himself up from the ground where he’s fallen, but Charles is on him in an instant, his knee pressing into the man’s chest, pinning him down.

“You thought she was alone,” Charles continues, his voice still eerily calm as he looks down at the man struggling beneath him. “You thought no one would stop you.”

He leans in closer, his knee digging into the man’s ribs, making it harder for him to breathe. “But she wasn’t alone. And now, you’re going to pay for what you did.”

The man tries to shake his head, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I’m sorry,” he gasps out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know-”

Another punch, this one to the side of the man’s face, silences him. Charles doesn’t care about his excuses, his lies. All he cares about is making sure this man understands the pain, the fear that you felt last night.

He grabs the man by the hair, forcing his head up so their eyes meet. The man’s face is already swelling, bruises blossoming under his skin like dark flowers. “You think this is bad?” Charles asks, his voice low, dangerous. “This is nothing compared to what you deserve.”

The man whimpers, his hands weakly trying to push Charles away, but it’s no use. Charles is relentless, his grip like iron as he drags the man up and slams him back against the wall.

“You like to take what you want, don’t you?” Charles says, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “Well, let’s see how you like it when someone takes something from you.”

Without waiting for a response, Charles delivers a brutal kick to the man’s knee, and the sickening sound of bone cracking echoes in the alley. The man screams, a high, desperate sound that only fuels Charles’ anger.

He watches dispassionately as the man crumples to the ground, clutching his leg, his face contorted in agony. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Charles asks, his voice devoid of any sympathy. “Now imagine how she felt. Imagine how scared she was, how helpless.”

The man tries to crawl away, his movements sluggish, hindered by the pain, but Charles isn’t done. He grabs the man by the ankle, dragging him back, his face set in grim determination.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Charles says, his voice flat, emotionless. “Not until I’m finished.”

He pulls the man up, slamming him into the wall again, his grip never loosening. The man’s head lolls to the side, blood dripping from his nose, his mouth, but Charles doesn’t care. He won’t stop until the man feels every bit of the fear and pain he inflicted on you.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes the man’s eyes widen in fear. “You think you can just go back to your life, like nothing happened?”

The man shakes his head weakly, but Charles doesn’t believe him. He knows men like this, cowards who prey on the vulnerable, who think they’re invincible because they’ve never had to face the consequences of their actions.

“Wrong,” Charles says, his voice hard, unyielding. “You’re not walking away from this. Not ever.”

He lands another punch, this one to the man’s ribs, and the man gasps, the air knocked out of him. Charles steps back for a moment, watching as the man collapses to the ground, coughing, wheezing, barely conscious.

“Look at you,” Charles says, his voice filled with contempt as he circles the man like a predator. “Pathetic. All that confidence, all that arrogance — gone. Now you’re just a scared little boy, begging for mercy.”

The man’s eyes flutter open, bloodshot and filled with pain. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a low, pitiful moan. Charles crouches down beside him, his eyes cold, calculating.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Charles asks, his voice soft, almost gentle, but there’s a cruel undertone that makes the man flinch. “Did you think no one would care? That no one would come for you?”

The man doesn’t answer, his body trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Charles watches him for a moment, his anger still simmering, but there’s a part of him — a small part — that feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. This man, this coward, is finally paying for what he did.

But it’s not enough. Not yet.

Charles reaches down, grabbing the man by the throat, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh. The man’s eyes go wide, panic setting in as he struggles to breathe, his hands weakly clawing at Charles’ arm.

“You’re not going to forget this,” Charles says, his voice low, dangerous. “Every time you look in the mirror, every time you see those scars, you’re going to remember what happens when you cross me. When you hurt someone I care about.”

The man gurgles, his eyes rolling back in his head, his body going limp in Charles’ grasp. For a moment, Charles considers finishing it, squeezing the life out of the man until there’s nothing left. But then he releases his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground, gasping for air.

The man barely has the strength to lift his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “You … you can’t … do this,” he wheezes, his voice weak, barely audible. “I’ll … have you arrested … for attempted murder …”

Charles stares down at him, a cold, humorless smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down the man’s spine. “Go ahead,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “Try it. See how far you get.”

The man’s eyes flutter closed, his body trembling uncontrollably as the reality of his situation sets in. He’s helpless, broken, barely clinging to consciousness. And Charles knows that the man’s threats are empty, born out of desperation, a final attempt to grasp at some semblance of control.

“You’re nothing,” Charles says, his voice cold, final. “No one is going to believe you. Not after what you did. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

The man’s breath comes in short, shallow gasps, his body shuddering with pain and exhaustion. Charles watches him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he finally stands up, looking down at the broken, bloodied man at his feet.

“Consider this a warning,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “Stay away from her. Stay away from Monaco. If I ever see you again, I won’t stop next time. I won’t show mercy.”

The man doesn’t respond, barely clinging to consciousness, his body slumped against the wall like a discarded puppet. Charles takes one last look at him, his eyes cold, before he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the silent alley.

As he steps out into the morning light, the anger that had consumed him begins to fade, replaced by a cold, detached calm. He knows what he’s done, knows that he’s crossed a line that most people wouldn’t dare to. But he doesn’t care. He did what he had to do, what you needed him to do.

And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

***

The atmosphere in the police station is tense, a quiet hum of activity threading through the open space. Officers move about, their conversations muted, eyes occasionally flicking toward the door where Charles Leclerc is expected to enter any moment. There’s a palpable discomfort in the air, a mix of respect and unease. No one wants to be the one to arrest Charles Leclerc. And yet, protocol demands his presence.

When Charles finally walks in, the room seems to still. Heads turn, eyes widen slightly. He’s dressed casually — sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Despite the nonchalance of his appearance, there’s an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

The desk sergeant, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a lined face, stands up hastily. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins, his tone overly formal, almost reverent. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We’re, uh … we’re very sorry about this.”

Charles offers a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “What’s this about?” He asks, even though he already knows.

The sergeant hesitates, glancing around nervously. “We, uh, received a complaint this morning,�� he explains, his voice wavering slightly. “From a … an individual who claims that you assaulted him.”

Charles’ lips twitch into something resembling a smile, though there’s no warmth in it. “He’s not wrong,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “I did.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen slightly, and there’s a nervous shifting among the other officers in the room. This isn’t how these things usually go. “Monsieur Leclerc,” the sergeant begins again, more carefully this time, “we understand that this man may have … done something to provoke you. But we have to follow protocol. We need to ask you some questions.”

Charles crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as he regards the sergeant with a cold, detached stare. “Protocol,” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

The sergeant shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Did you, uh, did you physically assault the complainant?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

There’s a collective intake of breath from the officers around them, as if they can’t quite believe what they’re hearing. The sergeant blinks, clearly taken aback by Charles’ bluntness. “And … do you regret it?”

Charles laughs then, a dark, humorless sound that sends a shiver down the spines of everyone in the room. “Regret?” He echoes, shaking his head. “No, I don’t regret it. In fact, I’d do it again.”

The sergeant’s face pales, and he looks around as if searching for some way out of this conversation. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he begins again, his voice trembling slightly, “I don’t think you understand the situation. You’ve just admitted to a serious crime. We … we can’t just let you go.”

Charles’ expression hardens, his jaw clenching. “Yes, you can,” he says, his voice cold, unyielding. “And you will.”

The sergeant opens his mouth to protest, but before he can get a word out, the door to the station bursts open, and the man from the alley stumbles in. His face is still bruised, his movements stiff and pained. But there’s a look of triumph in his eyes as he spots Charles standing there.

“There he is!” The man shouts, pointing a shaky finger at Charles. “That’s him! That’s the bastard who tried to kill me!”

Charles turns slowly to face the man, his expression unreadable. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. The man, emboldened by the presence of the police, takes a step closer, his voice rising with every word. “You think you can just walk away from this, Leclerc? You think you’re untouchable? I’m going to see you rot in prison for what you did!”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The man falters slightly, confused by the lack of reaction. Charles taps the screen a few times, then puts it on speaker.

“What are you doing?” The man sneers, though there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “Calling your lawyer? That’s not going to save you.”

Charles doesn’t bother to reply. The phone rings once, twice, before a familiar voice answers on the other end.

“Charles,” comes the smooth, authoritative voice of Prince Albert of Monaco. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off the man as he responds. “Your Highness, I’m at the police station. There’s a man here trying to press charges against me for something I did last night.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Prince Albert’s voice, calm and steady, fills the room through the speakerphone. “I see. And what exactly did you do, Charles?”

Charles’ eyes narrow as he stares down the man, who is now looking increasingly nervous. “I made sure he understands that there are consequences for hurting people I care about,” Charles says, his voice low, menacing. “I made sure he knows that no one lays a hand on her without answering to me.”

The silence in the station is deafening. Every officer in the room is holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next. The man’s face drains of color as he realizes what’s happening, who Charles is talking to.

Prince Albert’s voice is measured, careful. “And you believe this was necessary?”

“Yes,” Charles replies without hesitation. “It was necessary.”

There’s another pause, and then Prince Albert speaks again, his tone decisive. “Then I trust your judgment. You did what you had to do. Consider this a royal pardon. I’ll have an official document delivered to the station within the hour.”

The man’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You … you can’t do this!” He sputters, his voice rising in desperation. “He assaulted me! He nearly killed me!”

Charles finally lowers the phone, ending the call. He slips it back into his pocket, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. “You heard him,” Charles says quietly, his eyes locked on the man’s. “You’re done here.”

The man looks around wildly, as if searching for someone to back him up, but all he finds are the wary, sympathetic gazes of the officers. No one is going to help him. No one is going to defy Prince Albert.

The desk sergeant clears his throat, stepping forward. “Monsieur Leclerc,” he says, his voice carefully controlled, “it appears that you’re free to go.”

Charles doesn’t smile. He simply nods, his gaze never leaving the man who stands trembling before him. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I have more important things to do than waste my time here.”

The man opens his mouth to protest again, but the words die on his lips as Charles steps forward, his presence overwhelming, almost suffocating. “You should leave Monaco,” Charles says, his voice low and dangerous. “Before I change my mind about letting you live.”

The man stumbles back, his bravado crumbling as fear takes hold. He casts one last desperate glance at the officers, but they all turn away, unwilling to meet his eyes. He’s alone in this, and he knows it.

With a final, defeated whimper, the man turns and flees from the station, his steps hurried, unsteady. Charles watches him go, his expression unreadable, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction.

The desk sergeant shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “Uh, I … we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” he stammers. “It’s just … we had to follow procedure …”

Charles waves a hand dismissively, already heading for the door. “It’s fine,” he says, though there’s a hardness in his voice that suggests otherwise. “Just make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The sergeant nods quickly, grateful for the reprieve. “Of course, Monsieur Leclerc. It won’t happen again.”

Charles doesn’t respond. He steps out into the sunlight, the tension slowly draining from his body as the warmth of the day washes over him. The streets of Monaco are as busy as ever, people going about their lives, oblivious to what just transpired inside the police station.

He takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, grounding himself. The day is far from over, and there are still things he needs to do, but for now, the threat has been neutralized. The man who hurt you is gone, and Charles made sure he’ll never come back.

As he walks away from the station, Charles can’t help but think of you, your face, your voice, the way you smiled at him when you were just a little girl. He knows he’s crossed a line today, done things that most people wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t condone. But he doesn’t care. He did it for you.

And he’d do it all over again if he had to.

***

Charles stands outside your apartment, a paper bag of takeout in one hand, his other raised to knock on the door. He hesitates for a moment, nerves he didn’t expect twisting in his stomach. It’s strange, feeling nervous about seeing you. He’s known you for years — watched you grow up, shared countless family dinners with you, laughed at your jokes, teased you about your school crushes.

But this … this feels different. Everything feels different now.

He finally knocks, a light tap that he knows you’ll hear. A few seconds pass, and then the door swings open, revealing you standing there in a casual outfit, your hair pulled back, a soft smile on your face.

“Charles,” you greet him, your voice warm, familiar. “Come in.”

He steps inside, glancing around the cozy space. It’s a small apartment, but it’s yours, filled with little touches that scream your personality — bookshelves overflowing with novels, a blanket draped over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table. It’s homey, comfortable, and it smells like the vanilla candle you always seem to have burning.

“I brought lunch,” Charles says, holding up the bag. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You smile, your eyes brightening at the sight of the food. “You know me too well. What did you get?”

“Your favorite,” he replies, setting the bag down on the table and beginning to unpack it. “Pasta from that little place near the harbor.”

“Perfect,” you say, moving to grab plates from the cupboard. “You always know how to spoil me.”

Charles chuckles, though his mind is far from the light-hearted conversation. There’s something heavy sitting on his chest, something he knows he needs to tell you, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he focuses on the food, dishing out generous portions onto each plate.

You both sit down at the small dining table, and for a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of forks scraping against plates and the occasional hum of satisfaction as you enjoy the meal. It’s comfortable, easy — just like it’s always been between you.

But then, as if sensing his unease, you break the silence. “So, I heard the craziest thing this morning,” you say, your tone light, almost teasing. “One of my friends told me that you were almost arrested yesterday. Can you believe that?”

Charles’ fork pauses midway to his mouth, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected you to bring it up so casually, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. He forces a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh? What did she say?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She said she heard you were involved in some kind of fight and that the police were called. I told her she was crazy. I mean, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?”

There’s a playful glint in your eyes, but Charles can’t bring himself to join in. Instead, he sets his fork down, the sound of metal against porcelain unnaturally loud in the quiet room. He looks at you, his expression serious, all traces of his earlier smile gone.

“Actually,” he begins, his voice low, steady, “it’s true.”

Your smile falters, confusion flickering across your face. “What do you mean?”

Charles leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he meets your gaze head-on. “I was at the police station yesterday,” he says, the words heavy, deliberate. “They called me in because that guy — the one who … hurt you — he tried to press charges against me.”

You stare at him, the shock evident in your wide eyes. “Wait, you’re serious? This isn’t some joke?”

“I’m serious,” Charles replies, his voice calm, almost too calm. “I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not ashamed of it either. He deserved what he got.”

For a moment, you just sit there, trying to process what he’s telling you. You set your fork down, your appetite suddenly gone. “But … Charles, what did you do?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I made sure he understood that there are consequences for his actions. That he can’t just walk away after what he did to you.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your glass of water, taking a sip to steady yourself. “You … you didn’t …”

“I didn’t kill him,” Charles says quickly, sensing your fear. “But I hurt him. Badly. And I don’t regret it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your mind racing. The Charles you know — the Charles you grew up with, the one who used to give you piggyback rides when you were too tired to walk — wouldn’t do something like this. But then again, this isn’t just anyone we’re talking about. This is you. And for Charles, you’re different. You’ve always been different.

“I did it to protect you,” Charles continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I couldn’t just stand by and let him get away with what he did. I couldn’t …”

He trails off, his gaze dropping to the table, his shoulders slumping slightly. It’s as if all the fight has drained out of him, leaving behind only the raw, honest truth of his actions.

You swallow hard, trying to make sense of everything. “But … you could have been arrested. You could have gone to jail.”

Charles laughs, a bitter sound that holds no real amusement. “Not in Monaco,” he says, shaking his head. “Not for this.”

You furrow your brow, confusion evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I talked to Prince Albert. He gave me a royal pardon. The guy had no chance.”

You blink, stunned by the casual way he says it, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “A royal pardon? Charles, that’s … that’s not normal.”

“No, it’s not,” Charles agrees, his tone somber. “But I don’t care. I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe.”

The weight of his words hangs between you, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. You’ve always known Charles was protective of you, but this … this is something else entirely. He’s crossed a line, and there’s no going back.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the tension in the room thick, suffocating. Charles watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for you to say something, anything. He’s prepared for you to be angry, to be horrified by what he’s done. But he wasn’t prepared for the look of sadness that crosses your face, the way your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen on you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky. “I never wanted you to do something like this for me.”

Charles leans forward, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch is warm, steady, and for a moment, it grounds you, pulls you back from the edge of the panic that’s been rising in your chest.

“I know,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. But it’s what I needed to do. I couldn’t just stand by and let him hurt you.”

You squeeze his hand, your grip tightening as if you’re afraid to let go. “But what if you had been arrested? What if you couldn’t get out of it? I couldn’t bear the thought of you being locked up because of me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Charles replies, his voice firm, resolute. “I told you, I’d do anything to protect you. And I mean it.”

You look up at him then, your eyes searching his, trying to find some sign that this is all just a bad dream, that you’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. But all you see is the truth — the raw, unfiltered truth of what Charles has done, and why he did it.

“I don’t know if I should be angry or grateful,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve always been there for me. But this … this is something else.”

Charles smiles then, a small, sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to be anything,” he says softly. “Just know that I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

For a moment, you just sit there, holding his hand, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to ask, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Instead, you focus on the warmth of his hand in yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his eyes never leave yours.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you lean across the table and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepens, the tension that’s been building between you finally finding release.

Charles’ hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. The kiss is everything you didn’t know you needed — desperate, passionate, full of all the emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. Charles’ eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and there’s a look in them that you’ve never seen before — something raw and vulnerable, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence heavy with the weight of what just happened. Charles’ hand is still in your hair, his thumb gently stroking the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, as if he’s trying to anchor himself in this moment, to hold onto it for as long as he can.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your own heart pounding so loudly in your ears that you’re sure he can hear it too. “Charles …” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not sure what you want to say, what you’re supposed to say. Everything feels too big, too overwhelming.

Charles doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that same intense gaze, his eyes searching yours for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your hair, his fingers trailing down the side of your face before he lets it fall to his lap. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling cold, and you almost want to reach out and pull him back to you, to kiss him again and forget everything else. But you don’t.

Instead, you take a shaky breath and try to gather your thoughts, your mind racing. “What … what does this mean?” You finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He looks down at his hands, his brows furrowing in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “All I know is that I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve known you my whole life, but … this is different.”

You bite your lip, trying to make sense of it all. “I’ve always cared about you. You know that. But I never thought …” You trail off, unable to finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air between you.

Charles finally looks up at you again, his expression softening. “Neither did I,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But now that it’s happened … I don’t think I can go back. I don’t want to.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. There’s a part of you that wants to be cautious, to protect yourself from whatever this is, but there’s another part — one that’s stronger — that wants to take the leap, to see where this could go.

“I don’t want to either,” you whisper, the admission almost too much to say out loud. But it’s the truth, and once it’s out there, you feel a sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Charles’ eyes soften even more, his smile widening slightly. He reaches out, taking your hand in his once more, his grip warm and steady. “Then let’s see where this goes,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Okay.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, hands intertwined, the food on the table long forgotten as the reality of what just happened begins to sink in. There’s still so much you need to talk about, so many questions that need answers, but for now, this is enough. The kiss, the confession, the promise of something more — it’s all more than you ever expected.

Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes never leaving yours. “Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you say softly. “And I’m here for you too.”

He nods, his expression earnest. “Good.”

The silence between you is comfortable now, the tension from earlier finally dissipating. You feel a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling that everything will be okay, no matter what comes next.

Finally, Charles glances at the table, his smile turning sheepish. “We should probably finish our lunch,” he says, his tone light.

You laugh, the sound easing the last of your lingering nerves. “Yeah, we probably should.”

You both pick up your forks, and the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the ease between you returning as if nothing has changed. But you both know that something has. There’s a new understanding between you, a new connection that wasn’t there before. And as you finish your meal, stealing glances at each other across the table, you can’t help but feel excited about what the future might hold.

***

Monaco at night is a different kind of magic. The streets are quieter, the buzz of the day replaced by the hum of luxury cars and the distant sound of waves crashing against the harbor. The city glows with a soft, golden light, the kind that makes everything look a little more romantic, a little more surreal. And tonight, with you tucked into Charles’ side as you walk home from dinner, it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you.

You’ve been together for a few years now, and yet there’s still a thrill in the way he holds you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as if he’s claiming you all over again. There’s something comforting in the familiarity of it, the way your bodies just fit together, like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to be.

The conversation between you is light, filled with teasing banter about the dessert you shared at the restaurant — how he insists you ate most of it, and you argue that he’s the one with the sweet tooth. It’s the kind of easy back-and-forth that comes with knowing someone inside out, with having weathered storms together and come out stronger on the other side.

But as you turn down a quieter street, the atmosphere shifts. It’s subtle at first — a flicker of movement in the corner of Charles’ eye, the sense that you’re being watched. And then, out of nowhere, a voice cuts through the night, crude and jarring in its tone.

“Hey, baby, how about a smile?”

You freeze, your muscles tensing instinctively. The voice belongs to a man leaning against a lamppost, his eyes raking over you with a leer that makes your skin crawl. You feel Charles stiffen beside you, his arm tightening around your shoulders protectively. But before you can react, the man pushes off from the lamppost and approaches, his hand reaching out to touch you.

It all happens in a blur. The man’s fingers graze your arm, and you flinch back, your heart racing. But before you can fully process the disgust that courses through you, Charles is already moving.

The look in his eyes is one you recognize — a dark, dangerous glint that you’ve only seen a handful of times, but each one burned into your memory. It’s the same look he had that night at the club, the night he became more than just your protector, the night everything between you changed.

He’s about to lunge, his body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash all the anger simmering beneath the surface. But you place a hand on his chest, stopping him just in time.

“Charles,” you say softly, but there’s a knowing edge to your voice, a familiarity with the situation. “Should I call Prince Albert? Let him know you might need another pardon?”

Charles pauses, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the tension eases. The corners of his mouth twitch upward, a dark, almost feral smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice low and laced with a dangerous amusement. “This must be the fourth one this year.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood, if only for a second. “Actually,” you correct him, your eyes sparkling with mischief, “it’s the fifth.”

His smile widens at that, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. But the humor doesn’t last long. The reality of the situation pulls him back, and his expression hardens once more as he turns his attention to the man who dared to touch you.

“Stay here,” Charles says, his tone leaving no room for argument. It’s the voice of a man who’s about to do something he won’t regret — something he’s done before.

You nod, trusting him, knowing that whatever happens next, it’s out of your hands. And as Charles steps away from you, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction, a sense of justice in knowing that this man is about to face the consequences of his actions.

The man, oblivious to the danger he’s in, sneers at Charles, clearly unbothered by the presence of another man. “What are you gonna do, pretty boy?” He taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You think you can scare me?”

Charles doesn’t respond immediately. He takes his time, closing the distance between them with a measured, almost predatory grace. And when he finally speaks, his voice is as cold as ice.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Charles says quietly, the words laced with a threat that hangs heavy in the air.

The man laughs, the sound grating and unpleasant. “Oh, I know exactly who you are,” he sneers. “You’re that driver, right? Leclerc? Big deal. Doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

Charles tilts his head slightly, as if considering the man’s words, and then, to your surprise, he laughs — a dark, cruel sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think being in public will protect you?” Charles asks, his voice dripping with mockery. “You think because there are people around, I won’t make you regret ever laying a hand on her?”

The man falters, some of his bravado slipping as he realizes that Charles isn’t backing down. He glances around, perhaps expecting someone to come to his aid, but the street is empty, save for a few onlookers who are too far away to hear the exchange.

Charles doesn’t give him time to think. With a speed that takes the man by surprise, he grabs him by the collar, yanking him forward with a strength that belies his lean frame. The man stumbles, his cocky demeanor evaporating as he realizes he’s in over his head.

“You should have walked away,” Charles murmurs, his voice dangerously calm. “But now … now you’re going to pay.”

The man struggles, trying to push Charles away, but it’s futile. Charles is a professional athlete, his body honed for strength and endurance, and the man is no match for him. Within seconds, Charles has him pinned against the wall of a nearby building, his forearm pressed against the man’s throat.

“Get off me, you psycho!” The man chokes out, his voice panicked as he claws at Charles’ arm.

But Charles doesn’t budge. He leans in closer, his face inches from the man’s, his eyes filled with a cold, calculated fury. “You’re going to regret ever touching her,” he says quietly, his words laced with venom.

And then, without warning, he drags the man away from the wall, pulling him down the street with a force that makes it clear this isn’t just a warning — it’s a promise. The man tries to resist, tries to fight back, but it’s no use. Charles is stronger, faster, and more determined, his grip unyielding as he hauls the man toward a darker, more secluded part of the street.

You watch from a distance, your heart pounding in your chest. Part of you wants to stop him, to tell him it’s not worth it, but another part of you— the part that remembers the fear and helplessness you felt when that man touched you — wants Charles to follow through, to make sure this man never does this to anyone else again.

As they disappear around a corner, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You trust Charles, you know he’ll be careful, but you can’t help the worry that creeps in, the fear of what might happen next.

Minutes pass, each one feeling like an eternity, and then finally, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, your breath catching in your throat as you see Charles emerging from the shadows, alone.

His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy as he walks back to you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Then, without a word, Charles pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You don’t have to apologize,” you say softly, your hand cupping his cheek. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He smiles then, a small, tired smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m okay,” he says, though you can hear the weariness in his voice. “But he won’t be bothering you — or anyone else — again.”

You nod, knowing there’s more to the story than he’s telling you, but you don’t press him. Not now, not when he’s holding you so tightly, as if he’s afraid to let you go.

“Let’s go home,” you say gently, taking his hand in yours.

Charles nods, his grip on your hand firm as he leads you back down the street, away from the darkness and into the light. And as you walk together, side by side, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief, a sense of safety in knowing that no matter what happens, Charles will always be there to protect you.

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[pin-k-ink]

NO STRINGS ATTACHED…UNTIL NOW ★ NARUMI GEN

DAY TWO ➵ rivals in the field, lovers in the sheets—your arrangement with narumi was perfect until he accidentally admits that he’s in love with you. now you’re left questioning if you can go back to being just enemies.

cw ➵ enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, rough séx, unprotécted séx, dírty talking, a bit of a darker look into hoshina and narumi’s rivalry, angst, suicídal thoughts (implied), gróping, grínding, pda, thigh fuckíng, morning séx, lazy séx, nípple play, creámpie, multiple rounds

wc ➵ 16.4k

kinktober masterlist

"Get those filthy hands off me, Gen." The snarl ripped from your throat like shrapnel as you seized a fistful of hair to yank his head back with punishing force.

Narumi's eyes blazed like twin garnets in the dimness, lips peeling back in a feral rictus as he shamelessly ground the insistent brand of his cock against your jerking hips. "Or what?" He rasped out in blatant challenge. "You'll sick that joke of a brother on me again?"

A choked sound of outrage fought its way free as you tightened your grip and used the leverage to flip Narumi with bruising force. His spine impacted the battered mattress springs with enough power to rattle the entire rickety bedframe - but the low growl spilling from his parted lips spoke only of dark relish rather than pain or capitulation.

"Say his name again while you're inside me," you spat in a venomous purr, "and I'll rip your worthless cock right off, pretty boy."

With those scathing words still hanging like a viscous miasma, you sheathed yourself atop Narumi's punishing length in one slick, merciless glide. The answering grunts of vicious satisfaction mingling between you only stoked the raging bonfire of ire and mindless lust tangling itself into an inseparable conflagration.

Narumi's palms seared burning trails down the flexing slopes of your back, nails scoring lurid crimson crescents as he wrenched you forward to crash your mouths together in a searing, punishing clash of teeth and molten quests. You gasped against the savagery of his assault as he rolled you both over in a blur of tangled limbs and straining sinew, hips already pistoning with uncompromising savagery.

"Your brother," he growled out in that decadent, syrupy rasp that sparked shivering electricity along your oversensitized nerves. "He doesn't have a fucking clue about your real nature, does he?"

Another brutal grind punctuated the raw sentiment bleeding from between his panting lips, sheering heat and burgeoning rapture in its wake. You threw your head back with a garbled curse as Narumi's powerful thrusts bottomed out, ruthlessly dominating your body like a metronome's punishing cadence.

"He sees his sweet, innocent baby sister," Narumi continued in a guttural purr edged with satisfied menace. "Not the shameless slut who sneaks into seedy rooms like this one every chance she gets to get her greedy little cunt stuffed by the first cock willing to put her in her place.

This time, it was your hands that lashed out in searing reprisal, nails raking vicious crimson trails down the taut vee of Narumi's straining abdomen. He grunted raggedly, pale skin flushing with the first ruddy blooms of ecstasy and pain. But his inexorable pistoning rhythm never once faltered, rapidly bringing you both to that razored precipice.

"Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, pretty boy," you rasped out between ragged gasps and helplessly obscene mewls. "Easier than admitting you fell for the act harder than anyone, isn't it?"

For one suspended heartbeat, Narumi's smoldering glare bored into your own in naked challenge and visceral acknowledgment of the bitter truth laced through your scathing retort. Then his searing mouth descended once more in a needful, branding crush that seemed to plunder the very air from your lungs through its savage intensity alone.

Reality itself seemed to bleed away in that moment until there was only the relentless heat and friction of your rutting bodies, the tangling thrusts of sinuous muscle and wanton desperation shedding propriety like diseased flesh. Nails scored wickedly, teeth nipped and worried with bruising possession as whatever lines between dominance and submission frayed into irrelevance entirely.

It didn't matter that you were nominally riding the sweat-slicked behemoth of Narumi's punishing body towards that inevitable peak, his biceps flexing obscenely as fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave mottled blooms of ecstasy. You were equals here, burning stars locked in terminal gravitic spiral towards supernova obliteration.

When that blissful, unknitting singularity finally tore through you both on a tidal swell of mutual crescendos, it felt like scorching annihilation. You keened Narumi's name into the stifling darkness as exquisite aftershocks lacerated you to the marrow - dimly aware of his own hoarse vowel rapture answering your silent deific invocations in kind.

All at once, your bodies sagged with the abrupt bonelessness of guttered candles, limbs tangling in the sweaty wreckage of sheets in a gasping, disarrayed sprawl. You felt the thrumming bolts of searing satisfaction lance through each mingling plume of breath as Narumi gathered your debauched form against the bower of his heaving chest.

His lips feathered soft, disarrayed indulgences against your damp hair as you basked in the afterglow's molten splendor. Your eyes drifted closed in a moment of perfect serenity, the roaring fires momentarily banked rather than extinguished entirely.

Then Narumi rumbled out three words in a broken, naked rasp that made the world itself seem to tip wildly off its axis in an instant:

"I love you..."

Those three deceptively simple syllables hung in the air between your tangled, desiccated forms with the smothering weight of a death knell. For several disbelieving heartbeats, you could only lay there frozen in the boneless wreckage of afterglow, certain you'd misheard the hushed confession bleeding from Narumi's lips.

But then his arms instinctively tightened around you in an unspeakably tender embrace at stark odds with the intensity of your earlier joining. The truth of his unbidden vulnerability sank razor-taloned hooks into the vulnerable flesh of your psyche with lacerating inevitability.

You jackknifed upright with a breathless sound of visceral denial, sheets pooling around your midsection as you physically recoiled from the wounded honesty resonating behind Narumi's murmured vow. He gazed up at you with lidded, unflinching intensity, the heat in those ruby depths somehow transmuted to something far more treacherous than merely molten carnality.

"No..." The ragged rasp fell from your own lips like a plea for absolution as you shook your head numbly in futile refutation. "You can't...that wasn't part of our deal, Narumi! How could you—"

Before you could stumble further down that panicked spiral, Narumi surged upright to capture your face between those calloused palms you knew every callous and swordswell by intimate memory. His searing touch raised delicious friction, sending unwanted tremors ricocheting beneath your sensitized nerve-endings despite the encroaching dread rapidly walling off your heart.

"Because it's true!" He bit out in a growl laced with gruff desperation, eyes boring into yours with naked entreaty. "I don't know when exactly this...thing shifted into something more for me." One hand slid down to splay over the frantic thunder of your heartbeat as if in wordless emphasis. "But it did. And I can't just ignore or bury it any longer like we've been doing for years now."

The words lanced straight through your defenses like razored quarrels seeking your most vulnerable places. Your breath hitched as Narumi leaned closer still, foreheads brushing in that brand of casual intimacy that made you want to simultaneously keen and recoil in dismay.

"Think about it..." His warm exhale caressed your tingling cheek as he searched your widened gaze with unbearable intensity. "All this time, all these years of risking everything just to be together like this in the dead of night...it had to mean more than just lust and relieving stress, baby."

You shook your head again but the denial felt pallid and increasingly brittle upon your own tongue. Because truthfully...some deeper, more treacherous part of you knew Narumi's forbidden honesty only resonated so viciously because part of you understood it as immutable truth too.

Narumi pressed his advantage like a blade penetrating your weakening defenses with each gravelled word. "Tell me you haven't felt it too, okay? That undercurrent driving us back into each other's arms again no matter how much we swear it off as sin or too dangerous."

His breath mingled with yours in a tremulous exchange more intimate than any crude joining of flesh could ever be. You held his blistering stare helplessly, caught in the roiling tides of Narumi's naked ardor like a drowning woman too enthralled to accept salvation's easy deliverance.

"Tell me..." His voice dropped to an imploring rasp that liquified your bones despite the desperate stiffness radiating through your frame now. "Tell me you don't feel anything for me after all this time beyond a warm place to have your—"

"Stop!" The ragged bark tore itself free as you seized Narumi by his shoulders to put what little distance you could muster between your perilously attenuated spirits before the temptation to surrender utterly proved too grievously overpowering.

You were panting like you'd just been run through a brutal series of combat forms, chest heaving with exertion and visceral need that simmered through your blood with every stolen glimpse of Narumi's shattered vulnerability writ into the taut lines of his face.

But already the tides of defiance were surging to shore up those crumbling fortifications, years of ingrained self-preservation reflexes catalyzing to shore up these fractured boundaries however possible. Your chest cinched with a dull ache that felt suspiciously adjacent to mourning as you fought to regain control.

"That's enough, Gen," you managed in a hoarse rasp that wavered dangerously despite your best intentions. "You overstepped - badly. And now we're done, for good this time."

Somehow, you found the strength to haul yourself upright and away from the cradle of Narumi's limbs, ignoring the full body shudder that wracked your frame in protest. Already you could feel the treacherous heat of unshed emotion prickling behind your eyelids as it finally settled in that this...this unforgivable thing you'd let blossom between your souls for too long...would finally wither away if you could summon the resolve to sever it now.

Narumi made a noise of wordless anguish that very nearly shattered your determination. His hand shot out to sear a scorching trail of blissed friction along your inner thigh as you turned to gather your clothing in hasty, shamefaced silence.

"Please..." The ragged, wounded keen spilled from between his parted lips to lap at your fracturing composure mercilessly. "Baby, don't do this...don't shut me out and end it like this between us. Not when you have to feel what I do too!"

You paused mid-reach for your haphazardly discarded shirt, entire body quaking beneath the strain of fighting this sudden, savage undertow of vulnerability and latent yearning Narumi's forbidden truth had awoken with ruthless force. When you spoke again, your voice seemed almost unrecognizably thready and small.

"You broke the rules, Narumi," you stated with what felt like the last vestiges of rational detachment pooling about your feet like drained marrow. "And now I have no choice but to do what should have been done from the start - end this before it destroys us both entirely."

Narumi exploded upright with enough force to rattle the decrepit bedframe, tangled sheets clinging to his taut musculature like the last shreds of dignity. "Stop lying to yourself!" he raged with scorching intensity that made you flinch bodily. "I know what I saw in your eyes just now. You do feel it too, don't you? This thing, this hunger that claws beyond base lust or indulgence..."

He closed the distance between you in a series of measured, leonine strides that had your breath locking in your throat with each hypnotic step. You remained frozen as he towered over you in naked glory, the heated menace radiating off his frame in palpable waves despite his bereft state now.

"That's why this terrifies you so much." Narumi's baritone had transmuted to a graveled rasp of bitter epiphany and something darker...something like despair finally breaching his meticulously reinforced walls. "You're just as lost and hopeless to its pull as I am."

Your insides clenched at the naked accusation scorching through his unraveling ardor, sending fissures spiderwebbing through the foundations of your earlier ire. It took gargantuan effort to tear your gaze from his with an audible hiss of indrawn breath.

Already you were turning away from his radiant, crippling presence with the disorienting swiftness of one shaking off a mesmerizing trance too all-consuming to endure for even a single breath longer. The ragged threads of your composure had begun snagging and unraveling beyond all repair.

"This is goodbye, Gen." You bit the words out from between clenched teeth, every slashing syllable carving into your psyche like a ruthless quartering.

Despite the air of finality you struggled to imbue them with, they felt as hollowed and empty as a dying flame's plaintive flickers. You didn't dare look back to gauge Narumi's reaction, couldn't bear to see the recrimination and desolation you instinctively knew awaited you now in his blazing eyes.

So it was to grave, damning silence and the muffled susurrus of your own heartbeat pounding like frantic surrender signals that you gathered the rest of your clothing to your chest and fled. Every step seemed to thrum with the leaden weight of inevitability as you hurtled yourself through the tarnished byways and back out into the harsh, achingly impersonal brutality of the world beyond.

Only with the stark chill of nightfall searing against your sweat-sheened skin could you harbor any illusions of escape from the inferno you'd just ignited behind you - and even then, your control felt more hollow and gossamer with every ragged inhale clawing at your lungs.

Narumi didn't follow or call after you. The finality of your parting words and furious rebuke no doubt rendered any further denial or entreaty moot in his eyes by now. He would simply let you retreat into yourself like always, licking your wounds like a rabid beast torn between preserving its territory or succumbing to the butchery it so richly craved.

What you couldn't know or allow yourself to anticipate in that moment was the cataclysmic shift both your souls now quaked beneath. No matter which course you charted out of desperation and crippled self-preservation, some deeper fracture had split wide between the seams of whatever masquerade you'd both assumed could paper over this spreading bloom of woundedness for perpetuity.

And whether he chose to indulge its savage thorns or hack them out by the root entirely, Narumi would wear the scars of your collective undoing like a badge of honor from this point forward. He would nurse the festering hurt until it transmuted into something far uglier and caustic...or simply let it bleed him dry at last between these cracked foundations you were leaving behind.

Hours later, curled into himself atop the blood-spattered coverlet of your sins, Narumi's thoughts circled that yawning abyss like a moth courting the flame that would raze it to cinders.

He couldn't seem to dredge up appropriate shock or disdain that his feelings for you had blown wide that hairline fracture plaguing your self-imposed barriers for so long. Even as you'd turned your back and fled from his unyielding presence with fire in your heels, some part of him had simply accepted the unraveling as a morbid fait accompli.

No, the real question now...the one that loomed with steadily mounting disquiet in the emptiness of your shared abandonment, was where that left his own soul in the aftermath. What would become of Narumi Gen when even this salve of your shared sins and indulgences abandoned him to fend with truth's bitter aftertaste alone?

Perhaps, he pondered with steadily mounting dread, he was closer to the edge of some irrevocable plunge than even you realized in the wake of your ferocious denials. So close now, the insidious murmurs of that bleakest, lowest point sounded downright...inviting compared to carrying on beneath the weight of this searing hollowness you'd forced upon him.

Narumi's crimson eyes drifted to the sheath of his sidearm, discarded in the frenzy beside yesterday's clothing and innocence. His calloused fingertips traced the sturdy grip with mounting fascination, feeling the sibilant call of oblivion's dark promise whispering ever louder against his stricken conscience now.

Just one slender silver key to unlocking the ultimate salve against this acidic cancer you'd condemned his spirit to endure...a coward's exodus, but nevertheless a permanent exit ramp from the highway screaming straight towards his own spiritual annihilation.

Narumi contemplated that shadowed crossroads for several eternities crammed into the span of a few haggard breaths. His broad chest heaved with the exertion of psychic torment, twin plumes of heat gusting from between painfully parted lips in voiceless meditation.

When at last his fingers curled away from the comforting solidity of cold, uncarved steel, it wasn't in revulsion or self-recrimination for the paths his mind had begun spiraling perilously close towards. Rather, the look that slowly stole over Narumi's brutally handsome features was one of simmering, inwardly directed resolve - something far closer to dangerous epiphany than surrender.

He would bear this defiant hollowness you'd condemned his soul to until its embers kindled into something far more potent and corrosive than any romantic infatuation could have ever achieved. He would cultivate every scintilla of hurt and gaping yearning as raw fuel for the pyre of wrath and bitter loathing you'd so carelessly condemned him to endure now.

And in the end, when the time came to unleash those meticulously curated fires back upon your oblivious world...Narumi vowed he would revel in flaying that blissful naivety from your body and soul with merciless prejudice. That way, you would never hold the luxury of doubting whether this bond between you had run deeper or more profoundly toxic than even you suspected.

Let these wounds fester and scar first, he decided with finality as his jaw clenched painfully tight. He could wait as long as it took for this harrowing crucible to reshape him into something infinitely more dangerous. Then and only then would he make you rue the day you'd fled from his naked ardor in disgust, flinging his shredded soul back into the abyss without a second thought.

The strategy meeting seemed to drone on interminably as Captain Ashiro outlined the parameters for the upcoming reconnaissance mission. You struggled to keep your focus zeroed in on the Captain's briefing materials, acutely aware of Hoshina's weighted study from his position beside the combat projections.

Ever since the...incident with Narumi a few nights ago, your thoughts had been a tangled, unruly mess of bitter recriminations and unresolved anguish. Ignoring the throbbing hollowness steadily festering within your core was quickly becoming an exercise in masochism itself.

You felt Hoshina's piercing lavender stare like a physical brand every time your concentration strayed. Despite your best efforts, your brother's uncanny intuition seemed hyper-tuned to your inner turmoil recently. Which was why his scrutiny only compounded the guilt and emotional vertigo now plaguing your every waking moment.

A slight shift of movement in your peripheral vision made you risk a sidelong glance - only to find Hoshina's implacable stare locked onto your pensive features with undisguised concern writ into each ruggedly hewn line. You swallowed hard against the lump of twin shame and resentment clogging your throat as his vivid eyes narrowed infinitesimally in a silent demand for answers.

You were spared having to dredge up some placating deflection by Mina clearing her throat meaningfully at the podium's fore. All eyes instinctively snapped back towards their illustrious Captain as she clasped her hands in a decisive flourish.

"That covers our operational goals for the next phase," Mina announced in her usual no-nonsense cadence. "I expect each of you to review the specifics with your teams and have rotation assignments submitted by week's end. We'll proceed with all due diligence."

The soft murmurs of assent from your fellow platoon leaders swept over you like white noise, failing to fully register as you remained hunkered in your own private maelstrom. You were only jarred free of the numbness thrumming through your veins by Hoshina shifting position beside you in a silent request to depart.

The others filed out of the briefing room in clumps, heads already bent together in fervent strategy sessions over rotations and deployments. You were in the process of standing and gathering your satchel when Hoshina's rough baritone sliced through the shell of self-imposed isolation like a scalpel.

"Why are you a million miles away today?" It could have been an innocuous question if not for the unmistakable rasp of paternal concern interlaced beneath the offhanded delivery.

You paused mid-reach for your things with your back to Hoshina's looming presence - hoping against futile hope he hadn't caught the nearly imperceptible instinctive flinch wracking your shoulders at his observation.

Clearing your throat gruffly, you straightened and pivoted to face your brother's unwavering scrutiny head-on like the seasoned combat operative you'd been trained to be from birth.

"I'm not," you countered with the first placid lie available on your tongue. "We all have off days where the briefings just seem to drag, that's all..."

For someone who relied on speed and precision with the blade, Hoshina could move with surprising stealth when required. One moment, his imposing silhouette hovered at the periphery of your awareness. The next, you found yourself pinned beneath the lavender depths of his eerie stare, bodies barely a hands-span apart.

Up close, you caught the subtle fragrances of steel polish and clean sweat underlaid by Hoshina's own warm, earthy musk. The combination was startlingly personal and potent - another unwanted blow to your precarious self-composure as memories of your last encounter with Narumi seemed to unfurl before your mind's eye.

"Bullshit," Hoshina growled out, his usually affable features hardening into stern angles and deep creases as he appraised you unflinchingly. "You've been a mess all week, moving through your duties like some kinda wraith. So I'll ask again - what's going on with you, little sister?"

The question wasn't unkind, exactly. But it still struck you like the drawn blade's first kiss against trembling flesh, slicing defensiveness and anger in its wake even as dismay welled up. Your nostrils flared with the struggle of marshaling an adequate deflection against Hoshina's uncanny intuition.

How could you possibly explain the maelstrom consuming you from within when the very thought of confessing its toxic origins filled you with visceral dread and self-loathing? Either Narumi's unbidden vulnerability had irrevocably shattered everything between you...or else it had only catalyzed your own emotional awakening in turn - damning you to the very same treacherous depths and depravity you'd accused him of falling into.

Either realization was more lacerating and shameful than your obstinate pride could currently withstand. So you fell back on the easy defensive shield of deflection and sarcastic rebuke instead.

"Always worrying over me like some mother hen," you muttered with a dismissive shake of your head. "I'd chew you out for prying, but I know how impossible you make it to keep any secrets around here anyway."

Hoshina's brow furrowed thunderously at your veiled jibe, mouth working around a sharp retort before the muscle in his jaw pulsed visibly. He drew himself up to his full, intimidating height with exaggerated leisure - gaze never wavering from your own as if challenging you to sustain his interrogation.

The silence between you stretched out into brittle increments, heartbeats seeming to throb like ringing chimes against your skull as the staring contest persisted. At last, Hoshina expelled a resonant sigh edged with frustrated resignation.

"Fine, be that way if you insist," he grumbled out with clear displeasure coloring his typically easy-going tones. "But don't think this is the end of my prying just yet, little girl. You're wound up over something - that much is painfully clear. And until you finally spit it out, I'll be watching you like a damned hawk as always."

Despite his stern censure and the undercurrent of simmering reproach, you were unable to suppress the tiny swell of fondness burbling up from your core. Leave it to Hoshina to play the role of exasperated guardian when you were the one grappling with entirely self-inflicted spiritual devastation.

"Yeah, yeah," you grunted with only moderate heat behind the growled delivery. "Good old big brother, ever playing the worried patriarch over his helpless baby sister."

You meant it as a gentle rib, but Hoshina seemed to pick up on the subtle deflating of your earlier antagonism. He leveled you with another considering look before nodding towards the exit in silent invitation to walk.

"Oh trust me," he drawled as you felt into companionable step beside one another. "The day I start fretting over you like some damsel will be the day I hang up this blade and join a knitting circle."

His lilting delivery was pure kansai accent, all light rasp and indolent charm. The familiarity of it made your earlier turbulence settle incrementally, replaced by a comforting sense that no matter how deep the chasms in your soul split open...your connection with this stalwart pillar of stability would endure.

"Oh, I'm sure your knitting game is absolutely fierce," you shot right back, appreciating the transient reprieve to simply banter and bicker like always. "Probably just as cutthroat and competitive as everything else you take on, you lunatic."

Hoshina's low, rumbling chuckle seemed to spread warmth through the corridor like a soothing balm against your raw edges. "Speaking of taking things on..."

You felt the atmosphere between you two shift ever so incrementally as your brother seemed to slide into a more affable seriousness, shoulders squaring reflexively with purpose. Against your will, your pulse kicked up a palpable notch in anticipation of where this was heading...

"Were you paying attention to the next long-range recon Ashiro laid out at all?" Hoshina's tone was studiedly casual, but the sudden weight of his stare pinned you like the first shards of something portentous looming. "Or were you too busy spacing out to gather the mission specs this time, princess?"

You determinedly avoided the jibe and widened sweep of Hoshina's regard, keeping your stare fixated firmly ahead on the corridor's stark gray expanse. Your mind whirled belatedly, struggling to dredge up the barest recollection of Mina's earlier outlines...and coming up utterly blank.

"Don't get smart, asshole," was all you could grit out through a clenched jaw, annoyance sparking anew now as your precarious grasp on mastery over the briefing details slipped through your fingers like smoke. "Just...refresh me, already."

Hoshina made a sound of sardonic amusement, clearly picking up on your rapidly fracturing composure despite your best efforts. After a heartbeat or two of torturous silence, he clucked his tongue with paternal indulgence.

"Alright, listen up then, slacker," he chided in that affectionately gruff tone that always felt like balm against your more unruly impulses. "You're one of the liaisons being sent to the city for extended surveillance over the next few weeks."

Your brows instinctively furrowed, but Hoshina pressed on before you could properly voice your confusion.

"Nothing fancy or action-packed," he assured you with the first threads of vague amusement tingeing his voice. "Just a support role for the advance team already on the ground there doing prep work. You and whoever Narumi designates as backup from the First will hole up, provide comms relays, monitor any unusual fluctuations - that kind of boring shit."

Despite his teasing delivery, something in Hoshina's final few syllables seemed to split open like a visceral wound straight through the heart of your recovery. Your vision whited out for one panicked heartbeat, chest constricting around the sudden influx of suffocating dread lancing upwards.

Because of course...of fucking course the specter of Narumi Gen would come roaring back into your atmosphere just when you'd mustered half a chance at regaining your equilibrium once more. The mere idea of being stuck in confined quarters with him again so soon after...everything...

"You're joking," you managed to croak out through suddenly numb vocal cords. "Please tell me you're fucking joking about deploying me anywhere with one of Narumi's mindless drones as a partner."

Something about your reaction must have telegraphed easily through your usual cloaking disciplines and stoic veneers. Because Hoshina visibly stilled beside you, brow creasing into deep groves as a flicker of something dangerously close to suspicion bled into his pensive regard.

"That reaction seems...extreme," he observed in a studied neutral cadence at odds with the mounting intensity seeping into the atmosphere around you now. "Even for your usual prickliness when it comes to that division."

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly bone dry against a fresh swell of nauseous remorse poisoning your resolve. How could you possibly hope to explain the visceral revulsion and soul-deep yearning now entwining around the mere prospect of facing Narumi again so soon without tearing the lid off truths better left unplundered in shadow?

The silence stretched on excruciatingly between your joined frames as Hoshina continued to study you with that disconcerting hawkishness you now recognized signaled his analytical side rapidly spiraling into overdrive. At last, he sliced through the encroaching miasma with a rasp that seemed to split the very air itself.

"Never mind, screw tradition and protocol," he bit out in a graveled murmur that set every hair along your nape prickling. "I'm reassigning you a support partner from the Third. No need to entangle you further with anything in Narumi's shitshow unless you specifically want in on that minefield."

Blinding relief washed over you in a cascading rush, leaving you lightheaded and infinitely grateful for Hoshina's apparently casual dismissal of your vehement reaction. You managed a clipped nod and made to continue on your way - only for your brother's calloused fingers to ensnare your wrist in an uncompromising vise an instant later.

"But don't think this gets you out of the real conversation entirely, little girl," Hoshina rumbled with a sudden return of that paternal, chiding edge that somehow only amplified the threat simmering beneath his words.

"Soon as we're done with this mundane crap, you and I are going to sit down for a long overdue heart-to-heart about what's got you so twisted up lately. And this time..." He squeezed your trapped wrist with emphasis, forcing you to meet his canny lavender stare head-on. "This time, I expect the goddamn truth from you if I have to pry it loose myself. Are we clear?"

Your throat seemed to swell shut against the torrent of roiling, contrasting emotions searing paths beneath your shredded defenses. There was the molten gratitude for Hoshina's steadfast devotion and intuitive care in sparing you this present trauma. But it mingled with the visceral shame of knowing he wouldn't hesitate to rip those other, more grievous truths free from your lips if he ever got so much as an inkling of the sins festering there.

After all, what loyalty or camaraderie could possibly outweigh the sheer burning revulsion Hoshina would experience upon learning his precious baby sister had been reduced to depraved late-night trysts and reckless indulgences with a man he so thoroughly loathed above all others? No...better to take this hard-won reprieve now rather than face a reckoning neither of your souls were truly prepared to weather just yet.

"Crystal," was all you could rasp by way of hoarse promise.

The muscle in Hoshina's jaw ticked almost imperceptibly - the barest harbinger of roiling thoughts and calculations still churning tempestuously behind that implacable facade. Then his hand fell away from its searing brand of possession around your wrist as if rebuked.

"I'm counting on it," he murmured beneath his breath in a tone you couldn't quite decipher through the haze of your inner vertigo. "Now go get prepped and we'll talk assignment details after evening drills, princess."

With that mildly ominous proclamation hanging in his wake, Hoshina turned on his heel and strode away - leaving you swaying silently in the lonely, shadowed corridor with the lingering ghostfire of an impossible choice spreading steadily across the foundations of your fracturing self once more.

The hangar's sterile lighting seemed to bore into you like halogen needles as you paced the reinforced decking with restless strides. Your duffel bag thumped a muffled cadence against your thigh in time with each pivot, containing the bare essentials for this supposedly low-key reconnaissance deployment to the city.

Every nerve ending felt overamped and electrified in the wake of your conversation with Hoshina, anticipating the arrival of whatever fresh nightmare waited to be assigned as your partner for this op. You were grateful beyond words that your brother had intervened so adamantly against saddling you with one of Narumi's subordinates at least.

The mere notion of coming face-to-face with any of the First Division's personnel right now made your insides churn acid in reflexive revulsion. Especially after the sheer devastation you were still grappling with from your last encounter with their captain himself...

A harsh mechanical whine suddenly shattered the hangar's tense stillness like a gunshot. You whirled with heart pounding to find one of the armored transports rumbling through the gaping portal, exhaust fumes swirling in its wake like noxious spirits stirred from slumber.

You watched with mounting disquiet as the vehicle's rear hatch cycled open and a familiar silhouette emerged into the actinic lighting, features indistinct until your eyes focused—

Only for the bottom to drop out of your stomach as the world itself seemed to yaw sickeningly beneath your boots at the unmistakable sight of Narumi's tall, rangy figure strolling out with easy nonchalance. You felt the breath seize in your lungs, robbing you of the primal scream of denial currently scalding your throat.

No...not now. Not after everything that had passed so brutally between you in those shadowed hours of sinful surrender and naked vulnerability. How could fate be so unspeakably cruel as to strand you within Narumi's reach again like this?

You saw the exact instant his roving gaze landed upon you frozen there like a statue in the center of the hangar bay. Those sinfully beautiful features you'd so recently mapped in the throes of passion contorted into a ferocious scowl more befitting your final, searing exchange. The smirk curling his lips now felt like some hellish parody of the velvet hunger you'd once beheld helplessly on the other side of that chiseled facade.

"Well well..." Narumi purred in a roughened baritone that somehow managed to drip with erotic promise and vitriolic disdain all at once as he drew inexorably nearer. "Fancy meeting you here in this unexpected crossroads, princess."

You swallowed hard against the hot bilious surge of panic and incandescent want warring for control in the pit of your abdomen. Despite the barbed animosity that seemed to saturate the air itself between you two now, that traitorous ember of ardor refused to remain fully banked.

Instead, you found your eyelids sinking to sultry half-lids despite your best efforts at forcibly narrowing them into impassive slits. Your gaze drank in the insolent sway of Narumi's hips, the sinuous roll of hewn muscle shifting beneath his fitted uniform as he drew rapidly closer.

Already you found yourself reconstructing the shapes of slick skin and tangled limbs behind your fluttering lashes without permission. Filling in the lurid impressions of your earlier joining with agonizing fidelity to the source - from the grunts of exertion and guttural growls of demand to the obscene squelch of fevered coupling and mutual releases' final shuddering raptures. You felt your cheeks heat despite your best efforts, gooseflesh rising across hypersensitized flesh as—

"Tell me this is just some sick joke," you managed to rasp despite your constricted airway, interrupting your spiraling reveries with brute force. "You can't possibly be who they're assigning as my support for this deployment."

The words seemed to reverberate against the reinforced steel bulkheads with bitter futility. Deep down, you recognized that ominous dread of inevitability taking root like a gnarled tumor amidst your psyche's cracked foundations. Narumi only paused to fix you with a smug, loaded stare — eyes hooded to sinful slits that were simultaneously too intimate and horribly impersonal for the maelstrom currently whiplashing your insides.

"Well now, I'd hate to dash your hopes like that." His rich timbre seemed to make the very air between you two shimmer with residual ardor despite the cruel mockery seeping into each syllable. "But I've got the assignment briefs right here with your name on 'em if you need proof this little reunion is 100 percent official."

Narumi broke the tension then, bridging the final few feet separating you both with that same unhurried stalking gait of a panther circling its prey. You instinctively tried to backpedal only to find your boots pinned to the deckplates as if girded in frozen concrete, breath sawing against your ribcage with mounting hysteria at the proximity.

Up close like this, your senses swam with the visceral impressions of Narumi's scorching presence - the achingly familiar aftershave, the musk of his body heat, the metallic ozone odor of undischarged static crackling between your souls' frayed auras whenever you drew too close to—

"That's quite enough of your bullshit taunts, Captain Narumi."

The low, grinding bark of Hoshina's displeasure rent the eddying clouds of tension abruptly. For the first time since Narumi's unforgivable arrival, you remembered how to properly inhale as your brother's towering presence materialized like reinforced battlements in the breach.

Only when your vision stopped swimming did the complete tableau reassert itself clearly. Hoshina's slab-like forearm locked in place dead center to Narumi's sternum, effectively pinning him back from invading your personal orbit any further. Every muscle in his frame seemed coiled for violence, with only the barest threads of restraint keeping Hoshina from unleashing utter havoc upon the First Division Captain in this very moment.

"Don't let me catch you encroaching on my sister like this again if you know what's good for you, asshole," Hoshina rasped between gritted teeth, eyes blazing with flat refusal to be trifled with. If he harbored even a fraction of the malign history you shared with Narumi, there would be blood on the floor already.

Narumi simply appraised your brother with uncharacteristic mildness, features schooled into that vulpine mask of mockery once more.

"Don't go souring on my account now, bowlcut," he drawled with easy insolence that practically dripped from his aura like poison oil. "I'm only being a cordial host to my newly appointed charge here. Nothing wrong with some friendly greetings between colleagues being assigned together now, is there?"

You flinched at the insinuation like a physical slap, still reeling from Narumi's presence. But some tiny part of you couldn't help wondering if this ordeal was simply the latest volley in whatever sadistic mindfuck he'd apparently chosen to wage against your shredded composure now.

An ember of betrayal kindled anew as the suspicion took root - Narumi orchestrating this entire situation just so he could watch you writhe and suffer beneath his unveiled contempt some more. To torture you with that same excruciating intimacy and indifferent brutality that had made your last encounter feel like the end of all worlds.

The muscles in Hoshina's jaw ticked and flexed as he clearly wrestled with the rising need to simply bury his knuckles in Narumi's sneering facade. When he finally spoke, his voice emerged even more granite-shredded than before.

"Believe me, there's only one rock-stupid mistake being made right now, and it sure as fuck ain't coming from me." He punctuated the rebuke by glancing back at you with marked tenderness laced between the creases of his glare. "Y/N, I thought I had this sorted after our convo, but apparently HQ's got better ideas. That request to swap out from your detail got denied."

Your insides seemed to plummet down an infinite well of existential dread as the grim realization cemented itself. Bile scorched the back of your throat and you were only vaguely aware of your knees threatening to give way entirely. This wasn't some twisted power play from Narumi after all - this was apparently intended to be your own personalized version of hell written in the stars now.

Hoshina's expression softened imperceptibly as he seemed to pick up on the slightest inkling of your turmoil from across the distance. One broad palm extended towards you in an unspoken gesture of comfort, genuine empathy flickering across his proud features.

"I won't lie, sis...this whole deal stinks with his name all over it. And I gave it my best shot with the higher-ups," he admitted at last with a trace of rare softness tingeing the edges of that gruff baritone you knew so well. "But in the end the call went out - you're stuck hauling his flaking ass for this op no matter what."

Your lips moved soundlessly at first, unable to give voice to the cataclysms unfolding within your fractured spirit as the implications threatened to swallow you whole. What other ungodly trials awaited now in the wake of being forcibly intertwined with the man responsible for the first hairline cracks splintering across your foundations?

With tremendous effort, you mustered enough air to deliver the croaked question in a featherlight rasp.

"Why?" A single, wretched syllable that nevertheless contained entire cosmoses' worth of anguish. "Why would they...isn't it obvious—?"

"Because it doesn't matter what's obvious," Narumi's low, smoky rumble sliced through the charged air unexpectedly - shearing away the pity and vulnerability in Hoshina's stance as his spine instinctively straightened up. "None of your silly grudges or hangups matter when it comes to orders handed down, sweetheart."

The molten glare Hoshina cut towards the First Division's ringleader practically crackled with restrained ire. However, Narumi remained infuriatingly blasé - languidly stretching his arms above his head in an exaggerated display that made corded muscle shift in tantalizing motions across his broad chest and shoulders.

"So do us both a favor, hmm?" His customary vulpine grin hitched back across those beautiful features in an instant - disarmingly handsome despite the clear undercurrents of challenge simmering in his depthless vermillion stare. "Drop the jealous possessive fuming and quit trying to pull rank here. This is above your pay grade, Hoshina."

Some inscrutable signal seemed to pass between the two rival combatants in that stilled heartbeat, leaving you to hover on the edges of all comprehension. Only when your brother heaved a gusty breath and shoulders slumped could you even begin to tentatively release the death grip your fingers had unconsciously woven into your own disheveled tresses.

When Hoshina turned back towards you finally, his face seemed even more lined than usual with the fading remnants of residual ire smoothing away into rueful resignation. For just a fleeting instant, you caught a glimpse of the vulnerable protector he allowed himself to be for only you behind those walls.

"Orders are orders, I guess," he sighed out into the yawning tension vibrating between your conjoined frames. But then his eyes narrowed fractionally and seemed to gravelly harden like windswept basalt once more as his focus locked back onto Narumi's sprawled arrogance. "But let's get one thing cleared up before I leave you in this idiot's care, princess..."

The next few heartbeats felt like an eternity compressed into a singular cosmic crunch as your brother moved with leonine poise until he loomed directly over Narumi's taller frame with every hard-hewn ounce of promised violence radiating off his form. For the first time since his dazzling arrival, you thought you caught a soupçon of reservation entering Narumi's lazy regard as Hoshina leaned in — close enough for his next guttural rumble to pour directly into the other man's sneering facade.

"I couldn't care less about whatever mind games or mutinous shit festers inside your head," Hoshina growled with basso profundity that seemed to make the deck plates judder beneath your boots. "If anything...and I mean even so much as a stray hair gets bent on my sister's head while she's stuck beside you? Buddy?"

He leveled Narumi with a look nothing short of pure distilled midnight, eyes slitted to venomous amethyst slivers filled with lethal promise.

"I'll wipe you from existence so thoroughly, not even the memory of your worthless soul will remain behind to echo through oblivion. We clear, motherfucker?"

Before Narumi could formulate any snide rebuttal, Hoshina seemed to dismiss him from his all-consuming focus with a contemptuous snort of derision. Pivoting on his heel, your brother's stony mask seemed to slip the instant his gaze found yours again - softening into something infinitely more fond and long-suffering even after the blaze of protective outrage you'd just witnessed.

"Don't look so petrified, sis," he rumbled out in a husky rasp pitched just for your ears alone as he reeled you in for a tight farewell hug. You swayed limply against the solid architecture of his chest like a newborn, inhaling the comforting fragrances of steel and clean sweat that had always embodied Hoshina whenever he moved to shelter you from harm.

His lips ghosted a brush of affection across your brow as Hoshina squeezed harder for just an instant before pulling back to meet your turbulent stare one final time.

"You know me better than anyone...my bark's a hell of a lot worse than any bite I could ever work up against that sleaze," he murmured, the hint of a proud smirk quirking up at the corners of his mouth. "So just keep your chin up, focus on the mission, and don't let him psych you out is all. Got it?"

Without waiting for any acknowledgment, he stole one last indulgent look and reached up to ruffle your disheveled hair. Then his palm fell away one final time, gaze hardening into flint once more as Hoshina squared up and strode past where Narumi remained frozen in the tableau's epicenter.

You stood rooted to the hangar deck, chest heaving slightly as the echoes of your brother's footsteps faded into the distance. Despite Hoshina's parting reassurances, dread coiled like a leaden weight in the pit of your stomach. Now you were utterly alone with Narumi - the man who had utterly shattered your foundations with just a few muttered words only nights ago.

The tension stretched taut between your conjoined frames, broken only by the metallic rasp of Narumi's bootsteps as he slowly crossed the hangar towards you. You tracked his predatory strides with apprehensive eyes, unable to fully suppress the instinctive full-body shiver that traced your spine as he drew nearer.

Up close, Narumi's piercing scarlet gaze seemed to sear away every veneer you possessed, leaving you achingly exposed before his unyielding perusal. His lips, so recently branded into the hollows of your flushed skin during past frenzied trysts, curved into a slow, lascivious smirk that made liquid fire curl low in your belly.

"Well, isn't this an...intimately fortuitous turn of events?" Narumi's deep baritone rumbled with dark promise as he circled you in a slow, predatory orbit. "Just you and me, alone at last after that delightfully impassioned farewell from your doting big brother."

You swallowed thickly, nerves alight as Narumi invaded your personal space from behind - the searing brand of his muscular frame aligning against your back in one scorching line. His broad palms settled at the flare of your hips with blatant possession, callused fingertips already mapping the gentle inward curves with smoldering intent.

"G-Gen, don't—" you gasped out in weak protest, fully aware of the desperate quaver undercutting the futile words. But he simply hushed you with a rasping chuckle against the vulnerable hollow below your ear.

"Don't try to deny the raging bonfire between us now, princess," Narumi growled in a voice gone harsh with want. "Not after I felt every ounce of that sweet desperation pouring off you during our little reunion."

One large hand snaked upwards, calloused palm spanning the juncture of your ribs until his blunt fingertips encountered the lace edging of your brassiere. You bit back a strangled whimper as he shamelessly fondled the swell of your breast, hips already grinding against the inescapable ridge of his erection.

"Did you honestly think I'd pass up the first real chance to slake these hungers properly after your panicked retreat?" he hissed against the fevered hollow of your throat. "That I wouldn't seize the first opportunity to take what's mine again until you're nothing but a quivering, fucked-out wreck without the strength to run this time?"

Narumi's other hand slid lower in a blatant caress, fingers splaying possessively across your lower abdomen as he ground your hips back against him with bruising force. You could feel the solid brand of his cock straining against the inseam of his fatigues now, achingly insistent as it dragged against your backside.

"Well too fucking bad, little girl...because there's nowhere else for you to run now."

You gasped sharply as Narumi's mouth latched onto the vulnerable patch of skin behind your ear in a searing, open-mouthed assault. Sharp nips laced with rasping sweeps of his velvet tongue sent delirious sparks of pleasure-pain juddering through your nerves like a lightning strike.

Despite your tenuous mental efforts to remain aloof, detached, your body instinctively arched in wanton supplication - hips rolling in shallow, desperate grinds that only succeeded in wedging the rigid length of Narumi's arousal deeper into the cleft of your ass. The guttural groan torn from his lips vibrated against your tingling skin as his questing hands roamed with increasing fervor.

A fresh bloom of molten arousal blossomed between your thighs, body quickly overriding whatever feeble resolve you tried to cling to. Because the truth was, Narumi's blistering proximity and impassioned possession felt like a solar eclipse - at once achingly familiar yet simultaneously capable of rendering you quivering and humbled beneath his uncompromising dominance.

His sinuous form seemed to engulf yours, broad shoulders bracketing you in from behind as one large palm slid brazenly up your inner thigh. Calloused fingertips mapped the lush seam of your sex through the thin barrier of your uniform with incendiary exploration. You trembled helplessly between Narumi and the wall of solid muscle at your back, nerves screaming with delirious overstimulation.

"Do I feel familiar?" His gravelly growl rasped through your gasping pants as he slowly turned you around to face him. "Does having me pressed up against you like this remind your sweet pussy exactly who it belongs to? Who's responsible for splitting you apart so exquisitely over and over until you pass out from ecstasy?"

As if to punctuate the viscerally crude statement, Narumi rolled his hips in a deep, unhurried grind - ensuring every pulsing inch of his cock dragged across your sensitized pussy with visceral friction. A piteous mewl spilled past your lips as your head fell forward against his shoulder, nerves shorting out from the relentless sensory onslaught.

Narumi's calloused palm cradled the back of your skull, fingertips tangling into your disheveled tresses as he held you immobile against the scorching brand of his mouth. You whimpered helplessly into the relentless velvet glide of his tongue plundering past your swollen lips without resistance.

Every nerve ending felt electrified by his blazing proximity and the unbridled possession behind each rasping sweep of Narumi's insistent caresses. He devoured you with the same unhurried intensity and fervor he always brought to testing the limits of your endurance between the sheets. As if determined to strip away every veneer of composure until only molten quivering desperation remained.

You fisted your hands against the flexing slabs of his shoulders, nails scoring shallow crescents without even realizing it. Narumi growled his dark approval into the shuddering give of your arched form, hips rolling in a slow grind that allowed you to feel every rigid inch of his arousal branding deliciously against your lower abdomen.

Just when you thought your vision might splinter completely beneath the overwhelming swell of sensation, Narumi tore his mouth away with a filthy gasp. You swayed like a reed in his grip, chest heaving in shallow desperation as your lust-hazed eyes fluttered open, silently begging for reprieve or further rapture - you weren't sure which anymore.

Narumi held your dazed stare for several endlessly suspended breaths, eyes glittering like polished garnets in the dimness. His tongue swept out in one indolent pass across his lower lip, gleaming with the shared evidence of your mutual desperation. Only then did his grip loosen fractionally, allowing you to wobble back far enough to feel the cool brush of air against your fevered skin.

"That should satisfy this craving for now," he husked in a tone made rough from the frantic crush of your joining just seconds before. "But you'd better pray the rest of this op passes quickly...because who knows how long I'll be able to resist indulging in a more thorough sampling of my favorite meal."

Despite the blatant challenge and dark promise simmering behind the words, Narumi seemed to drink in your flushed, debauched state with relish for another smoldering instant. One large palm settled against the slick between your parted thighs, fingers stroking idle patterns amidst the damp lace as you fought back a whine.

"You're already melting, aren't you?" he rumbled, palm grinding insistently until you arched like a drawn bow. "Body betraying that feisty little spirit like always when I so much as lay a finger on you."

Then, just as swiftly, Narumi stepped back - leaving you reeling in his wake like a rudderless vessel amidst scalding tides of arousal and aching, unquenched hungers. You watched with something like dismay as he calmly straightened his rumpled uniform, not a single strand of those mercury locks displaced from their artful disarray.

Narumi didn't spare you another glance as he crossed towards the waiting transport, footfalls heavy with the weight of finality. Only when his hand gripped the door latch did he finally twist just enough to pin you with one heated, inscrutable look from beneath thick lashes.

"Playtime's over for now, princess," he growled, gaze sweeping your dishevelment with naked hunger. "So get that pretty head on straight before the real action commences soon enough."

With that darkly ominous promise still shivering through your electrified nerves, Narumi swung himself up into the driver's cabin - leaving you to gather your mental and physical disarray alone amidst the shadow of his rapacious yearnings once more.

A sliver of time seemed to fold in on itself after those fraught events in the hangar bay. Between steeling your focus for the assigned surveillance operations around the city and ruthlessly denying any further backslides into intimate dalliances with Narumi, the hours soon blended into days that flowed like smoke between your fingers.

Yet for all your efforts at vigilance and restraint, you couldn't quite stifle the lingering aftershocks rippling outward from that last explosive encounter together. Narumi made sure of it at every turn by stoking the smoldering embers of desire to fever pitch once again.

Heated gazes that practically scorched wherever they roved across your body...the indolent sprawl of his powerful frame in a casual pose that somehow radiated naked predation...lurid mutterings and thinly veiled innuendos bleeding suggestive promise with every innocuous exchange shared between you...

By the time the final stand-down codes arrived from HQ signaling the op's completion, weeks of accumulated tension and unsated cravings had sapped the very air from your lungs in trembling exhalations of want. You felt like a trip-wire, every cell and synapse coiled on a hair-trigger for relief or unleashed conflagration at Narumi's slightest provocation.

So when you followed his lead back to a nondescript motel on the city’s outskirts with hushed instructions not to break position until the dust settled, the situation felt precariously balanced on a razor's edge. The second Narumi let the room's door fall shut behind you both, the atmosphere shifted palpably.

"Well well..." His smoky drawl drifted like sin itself into the dimness as you watched his tall rangy form stalk deeper into the ambiance. "Isn't this a familiar feeling?"

You inhaled shakily, doing your best to tamp down on the visceral reactions singing beneath your nerve endings as Narumi's vivid stare roamed the space with undisguised possession. One eyebrow arched as he crossed to deposit his duffel on the pathetic queen-sized mattress with a muted thump.

"You've got to admit," Narumi purred, turning to favor you with that hooded crimson smolder you knew far too intimately by now. "This setup does drum up plenty of tantalizing memories of our past...indiscretions, hmm?"

Something about that sinful purr in his low timbre detonated like wildfire across your heightened senses. You fought down the accompanying shiver, unable to help tracking the casual sprawl of his musculature and sinuous lines as Narumi seemed to make a production of settling more comfortably amidst the rumpled bedding.

"I can already picture you," he husked with audible relish, letting the insinuation bleed heavy suggestion into every following syllable. "Trembling and slick beneath me across these very sheets while I split you open around my cock over and over until you're throatier from whimpering out my name than any uptight pleasantries."

Something uncurled low in your abdomen in a hot, liquid rush of anticipation at the crudely blatant imagery. You swallowed hard against the sudden resurgent need thrumming through every inch of your frame. Meanwhile, Narumi's own stare seemed to bore into you with the same relentless intensity as a physical caress - practically undressing your defenses one maddening layer at a time.

"So tell me, little girl..." That same incendiary rumble you knew like your own pulse's cadence slurred through the heated quiet as his tongue flicked out to graze his lower lip in a subconscious tell of hunger. "How much longer do you think you'll be able to resist submerging yourself in those sweet lost memories before surrendering to the refuge of my arms tonight?"

His final purr seemed to vibrate against your very marrow as the haunting question hovered in the swiftly thickening ambiance between your tangled forms. You could only stand there enraptured and mute beneath the smolder of Narumi's ravenous regard, hypersensitive to each scorching inhale and exhale that passed between you like a shared prayer awaiting its eventual shattering answer.

The heated tension thickened in the space between you and Narumi, seeming to solidify into a tangible force pressing against your skin. His smoldering gaze tracked every minute shift and reaction as you struggled to regain your composure beneath his ravenous perusal.

Before you could formulate a response, Narumi moved with leonine grace - one moment lounging indolently on the rumpled bedding, the next prowling straight towards you in a series of powerful, purposeful strides. You held yourself rigid despite the stuttering of your pulse, determined not to openly surrender so easily to his blistering proximity.

But the instant Narumi's powerful frame closed the gap, every instinct within you liquified beneath the intoxicating reality of his presence engulfing your senses once more. The crisp, musky fragrance of his cologne and body heat...the sinuous flexing of taut muscle visible beneath his shirt...the low, smoldering burn crackling in those depthless eyes as they bored into yours with naked ardor.

"Still playing coy after all this time?" His graveled whisper slithered across your nerve endings like a physical caress as one broad palm settled against the small of your back. Narumi used the leverage to reel you flush against the solid wall of his chest in one unhurried tug, eliminating every fractional inch of distance between you. "You should know better by now how useless those sweet little feints are against me, princess."

His free hand cradled the nape of your neck then, simultaneously possessive and tender in a way that made your breath stall. Narumi's gaze held yours with searing intensity as he deliberately leaned in closer, pursing those full lips you knew far too intimately by now.

You braced for the searing brand of his mouth crashing against yours in typical savagery. But instead, Narumi's approach remained almost torturously slow - his thumb tenderly stroking the sensitive hollow beneath your ear as he allowed the suspense to stretch out like molten taffy between you.

Just as your eyelids began to flutter shut against the sweet agonizing tension, you saw the softening around the hard lines of Narumi's mouth shift into something more...affectionate. More vulnerably open in a way you recognized from your last ill-fated tryst together. The same unguarded ardor that had burst free from deep within him before cracking open the first chasms of anguish in your very foundations...

In that suspended heartbeat as Narumi's lips finally brushed against yours in gossamer lightness, every nerve ending throughout your hypersensitized frame went haywire in visceral remembrance. A strangled squeak of dismay slipped free as your hands instinctively fisted against his chest, trying to shove Narumi's solid mass backwards.

His breath puffed out in a rasping groan of mingled frustration and hurt, but Narumi instantly obeyed - retreating half a step to break the fragile contact and watch you through those hooded eyes shimmering with bitter yearning.

"Baby, what—" he started in a low rasp thick with fresh turmoil.

But you cut him off with a shake of your head, still struggling to rein in the tremors wracking your frame.

"No, dammit!" You snarled through gritted teeth, glaring up at the man who seemed to possess every carnal key to setting your soul ablaze. "I can't...not with everything still so raw between us, Gen. Not after what you said and how it all ended last time!"

His nostrils flared at your vehement denial, jaw cording with renewed defiance. "Well maybe it's time we finished that conversation properly then," he shot back in a growl that resonated all the way down to your bones. "Instead of you sprinting away from the truth like a kicked dog."

Fury spiked through your blood at his biting insinuation that you were once again fleeing from the painful realities between you both. Without thinking, you lashed out with another shove against his chest that barely managed to make Narumi rock back on his heels.

"The truth?" You hissed out through clenched teeth, feeling your throat grow tight as more virulent anguish clawed upwards from deep within. "You mean the truth that we're both just sick, twisted fucks who can't seem to stop slaking our depraved needs off each other in nasty hotel rooms?"

Narumi bared his teeth in a truly feral snarl then, clearly riled by your low blows and unwillingness to meet him halfway yet again. His broad chest heaved with the effort of visibly restraining himself as one hand bunched into a white-knuckled fist at his side.

"Or maybe you're just scared shitless of that TRUTH, aren't you, princess?" He spat out with sulfurous contempt. "That there's something more here than physical, and it terrifies you to your very marrow now!"

You laughed in his face then - a truly bitter, raucous bark of sound that felt utterly devoid of actual mirth. "You're even dumber than I thought if you believe a single word of that bullshit!" You shot back mercilessly. "Did you really think there was anything genuine between us beyond a warm place to stick your cock?!"

The stricken look that flickered across Narumi's hawkish features made a swell of dark, vicious triumph roar up within your fracturing spirit. Distantly, you recognized the self-destructive spiral rapidly gaining momentum, but felt powerless to stop eviscerating one of the few remaining tethers still anchoring you to something resembling sanity.

"Newsflash, asshole - we've had our fun, but it ended the second you spilled that pathetic little lovesick confession," you raged, stabbing your finger into Narumi's sternum for vicious emphasis. "My brother would sooner cut your fucking heart out than allow anything real to happen with us! He barely tolerates your worthless presence as it is—"

Abruptly, Narumi seized your wrist in a crushing vise-grip so powerfully contained, you felt the fragile bones shifting against each other. His face twisted into a mask of naked ire and anguish so intense, his entire frame seemed to vibrate with the upheaval of it all.

"Don't you DARE bring Hoshina into this, you sadistic bitch!" He roared so viciously, flecks of spittle struck your inflamed cheeks. "That sanctimonious prick has NOTHING to do with what festers between us beyond the cancer you keep letting him be!"

With a herculean effort, you tore your captured wrist free of Narumi's punishing grip - or perhaps he was the one to let go utterly. Either way, you instantly reeled back several paces, clutching your potentially fractured bones close to your sternum as you glared at each other across the sudden, cavernous distance.

"Just get out," you heard yourself rasp in a tone utterly devoid of any heat or even anger - just an endless howling chasm of resignation. "Get the hell out of my sight before I say something neither of us can walk back from, Gen."

His proud shoulders heaved with the effort of wrestling his churning aura of violence back beneath rigid control. For several fraught heartbeats, you honestly couldn't tell which path his roiling fury might take next - the towering bonfire of provoked retaliation or simply heeding your exhausted dismissal entirely.

But then Narumi's frame seemed to slump infinitesimally, as if an even deeper hollowness managed to sap the fight from his very marrow just as swiftly as it ignited. He favored you with one last haunted, sunken glare filled with virulent hurt and utter desolation swirling in unspoken reproach.

"You're halfway there already, sweetheart." The vicious mutter cracked through the ambient silence with bitter finality. "And you're not the only one who’s operating under any delusion about how hopeless this shit between us truly is now..."

Without another word, Narumi turned and stormed towards the door as if the very sight of you suddenly kindled unbearable agony. You flinched as the rickety portal rattled on its cheap hinges in his wake, every iota of heat and fury draining from your limbs in the awful stillness he left behind.

Only then did you finally allow yourself to hit your knees on the shabby carpeting, breath escaping in ragged gulps as the first molten trickles of remorse began carving searing trails down your cheeks. You hunched inwards, allowing the truth of Narumi's parting accusation to swallow you whole amidst the frigid desolation now echoing throughout your fractured spirit.

No matter which path the two of you ultimately charted forward, one harrowing certainty had been cemented beyond all refutation now:

You'd both irrevocably passed the rubicon of your own oblivion, adrift together yet hopelessly alone...

The return trip to headquarters after the disastrous events in the city passed in an infinite purgatory of stifling silence. You huddled against the far window of the armored transport, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection as if holding your fracturing composure together by sheer force of will.

Narumi, for his part, maintained a stoic vigil behind the wheel - eyes locked forward with an expression of chiseled impassivity that may as well have been seared from granite. Not a single word passed between you, the echoing gulf of recrimination and crippling hurt too raw and visceral to even acknowledge.

Upon arriving, he didn't spare you so much as a backwards glance before striding off towards the First Division's personnel carrier. You could only watch his rigid, coiled figure disappearing into the distance, unwilling or unable to call out and stall that finality from severing whatever tattered remnants still bound your souls together.

The following hours lurched past in a numbed, watery blur - consisting only of rote check-ins and filing mission reports in an automatic stupor. Your tongue felt heavy and useless in the cradle of your mouth, incapable of imparting even the vaguest impressions of what transpired beyond the standard institutional debriefings.

You felt like a ghost enacting pantomimed routines while your inner essence remained severed somewhere between those motel room walls and Narumi's parting sneers. The enormity of the rift you'd both just detonated gaped with widening devastation, every mile stretching you further from reconnection.

At last, you found yourself folding beneath the crushing isolation inside your private quarters. Too drained and hollowed out to even consider stripping down before collapsing atop the rumpled sheets.

You stared sightlessly at the shadows lengthening across the walls, breaths coming in shallow inhales and exhales as your mind spiraled with helpless cyclonic intensity. Guilt, despair, and something like panic alternated in lancing through your system in scalding pulses - all grounded around Narumi's haunted expression in those final moments before he'd stormed from your shared purgatory.

You didn't register the quiet intrusion of your quarter's door unsealing at first. Only when a familiar silhouette crested into view did your surroundings seem to bleed back into crisp clarity like a tarnished film sliding into focus.

"Hey sis..." Hoshina's gruff murmur preceded his weary form by a few paces as he hovered inside the threshold. "Wanna tell me why you're looking like a kicked puppy over there?"

Something about his easy brotherly cadence made the roiling chaos in your marrow threaten to spill over unexpectedly. You clenched your jaw hard enough for tendons to cord up in your neck, stubbornly refusing to grant any quarter to the molten anguish scorching up from your darkest hollows in response.

Hoshina seemed to sense your silent stasis lingering, features hardening incrementally as he watched you through narrowed eyes. His presence took up more space in an instant as he sauntered further inside, draping his lanky frame across the solitary desk chair opposite your curled position.

"Y'know, when I told you to spill the beans on what's got you all twisted up in knots, I didn't think it would take a direct order to make it happen," he grumbled with halfhearted humor lilting behind the gruff delivery. You avoided his searching look, feeling your molars grind together painfully in your jaw's taut clenching.

For several pregnant heartbeats, the silence stretched torturous until snapping taut between you two. Then Hoshina expelled a sigh heavy with fond exasperation and leaned forward, resting his elbows on knees in earnest now.

"Dammit, little girl, talk to me," he practically growled, words soft but laced with an undercurrent of protective frustration. "I can't read your mind no matter how hard I try here - and whatever poison's eating you up from inside out is only gonna get worse if you stay trapped in that stubbornness again."

Despite the raw anguish roiling within, some core ember of affection stirred at the familiar tone and genuine concern radiating from your brother's frame. Hoshina always had been so uncannily attuned to the darkest whispers skulking around the periphery of your psyche - no matter how masterfully you affected deception or stoicism with others.

A sharp inhalation hitched your ribcage as your stare drifted upwards to finally meet Hoshina's weighted perusal at last. The tendons in your throat worked convulsively, battling against the tide of soured vulnerability welling upwards in response to his paternal prompting. When you finally spoke, the desolate rasp hardly felt like your own.

"It's...nothing new," you managed woodenly. "Just some old ghosts stirred up from that hellhole op—"

"Save the deflections, sis," Hoshina cut you off with a grunt, shaking his head slowly. "I saw the state you came rolling back in - and this shit's clearly chewed you up in ways I don't recognize. So cut the bullshit front for once, yeah?"

As you gaped back at him wordlessly, a complicated expression flickered over your brother's weathered features. Like he was contemplating opening some Pandora's box better left sealed before ultimately plunging ahead regardless.

"Does this have anything to do with why you reacted so venomously to being partnered with Narumi again after all this time?" Hoshina pressed in a delicate murmur that landed like a wrecking ball through your core. "I could tell he left you rattled in the worst way then, little sister...so if he pulled any shit and tried laying a single unwanted finger on—"

"No!" The sharp bark sheared through your locked airway before you could even think better of it. "Dammit, Soshiro - just...just drop it, alright? Some things are better off never seeing daylight, trust me."

For an endless heartbeat, he scrutinized you through narrowed eyes brimming with roiling protectiveness and frustrated resignation alike. Clearly wrestling with the precipice of whether to press the issue further or acquiesce to your obstinate refusal this time.

Much to your mingling relief and torment, Hoshina seemed to deflate further into the chair then with a rueful grunt.

"Okay, sis, you win this round," he muttered as he braced his palms against his knees to lever upright once more. "Just...don't go checking out on me entirely, yeah? I already got enough gray hair worrying over you as is without those ghosts of yours dragging you under for real."

There was no heat behind the gruff delivery, only that steadfast current of brotherly devotion that somehow managed to simultaneously salve and aggravate the harrowing rifts cleaving through your soul in equal measure. More words seemed to hover on Hoshina's tongue, but he ultimately swallowed them down with a ponderous nod and turned to depart in resigned quiet once more.

You watched him retreat from the corner of your eye with something like mourning resonating from deep within. Because for all the gratitude welling up at your brother's sensitivity, you also felt bitterly bereft of the possibility Hoshina could ever fully witness - let alone comprehend - the cavernous psychic wounds now festering inside you.

It was only after his footsteps faded back into the hallway's ambiance that you allowed the first hitching inhale to shudder free. Hot, molten emotion rapidly gathered behind your fluttering lids as the isolation swallowed you whole once more. The only remaining tether still anchoring your fracturing spirit to any kind of corporeal reality remained the brutal, ghostly afterimage of Narumi's shattered ardor...

Only for that eerily lifeless mirage to be explosively scattered mere moments later by Narumi's physical presence materializing through the unsealed entrance as easily as stepping through gossamer veils.

You startled with a strangled cry, instinctively recoiling backwards over the mattress as the imposing spectacle of his tall, broad-shouldered frame stalked towards the bed's foot. Those mercurial vermillion eyes seemed to blaze from the shadows cast across his hawkish features, boring into you with piercing relentlessness.

"You and I still have some unfinished business to settle," the familiar baritone growled with unmistakable finality before your stunned stupor could even hope to formulate a response. "And this time...you're going to sit there and listen whether you want to or not, princess."

Narumi fixed you with an intense, unyielding stare as he approached the bed. There was a simmering intensity just beneath the surface, like he was barely restraining roiling emotions.

"Sit down," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument in his tone. "And don't say a damn word until I'm finished."

You felt rooted to the spot for a beat, taken aback by his commanding presence and the crackling tension in the air. But something in Narumi's expression made you realize there would be no placating him until he had his say.

Slowly, almost mechanically, you shifted back towards the center of the mattress and settled in a seated position, hands clenched nervously in your lap. Narumi held your gaze for another loaded moment before lowering himself fluidly to one knee before you.

He was so close now that you could make out every nuanced shift in his expression, every flicker of hurt, frustration, and yearning that played across his chiseled features. When he spoke again, his deep voice was tight with the effort of restraint.

"I don't know what twisted game you think you're playing at, but I'm done skating around the edges of this...this thing between us," Narumi ground out, gesturing vaguely between your bodies. "We've been circling each other for too damn long with half-truths and cowardly deflections."

He leaned in infinitesimally, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. "So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to get this all off my chest once and for all. And you're going to sit there and actually listen instead of lashing out or fleeing from the truth yet again."

You felt pinned by the weight of his stare, any thought of argument or dismissal withering in the crucible of Narumi's adamant resolve. All you could do was give a mute nod, bracing yourself for whatever cataclysmic confessions were about to spill forth.

Narumi watched you for a beat longer, seeming to weigh your willingness to acquiesce to his conditions. Then, with a slow exhalation, he began to speak. Low and measured at first, but quickly gaining in intensity like a raging river cresting a faltering levee.

"You wanna know the real reason I've been so dead-set on this path with you? Why I can't just take the easy way out and simply cut ties after that disaster in the city?" His gaze bored into yours as if willing you to see the depths of his truths. "It's because against all reason or sense...I'm still in love with you."

The words seemed to reverberate through the air like shockwaves, your breath catching sharply in your lungs. Narumi pressed on before you could react, the rasp of his voice growing hoarser.

"I've tried so damn hard to bury it, to tell myself it's just lust or codependency or some other twisted delusion," he grated out, expression etched into planes of harsh self-recrimination. "But I can't shake the fact that I fell hard for you years ago, and it never let up even after you shredded my heart."

The rawness in his tone made your chest ache with vicarious emotion. You wanted to look away, to shy from the intensity of the vulnerability he was exposing before you. But you found yourself transfixed, drinking in every nuance.

"And I know..." Narumi exhaled a shaky breath, jaw tensing. "I know that in your eyes, I'm just the bastard who soiled any chance at a normal life together. The one who brought you down into the shadows and depravity alongside me because I'm too selfish and monstrous to ever set you free."

His eyes pierced into yours again, as if willing you to contradict him. When you remained silent, he seemed to slump almost imperceptibly before rallying once more.

"But despite all that...despite the damage and the hatred and the shitshow between us...I can't let you go, Y/N," he rasped, voice dropping to an intense murmur. "I'm still hopelessly, ruinously in love with you. And I need you to make a choice once and for all - either tell me to walk away completely and forever this time..."

He leaned in until his forehead nearly brushed yours, gaze smoldering and imploring all at once. "Or take a chance on me, on us, despite all the baggage and darkness we'd face. Because I meant every word I said about how I feel, and if there's even a shred of light left for us, I need to know you feel the same way."

The weighted silence that fell seemed to engulf the entire room as Narumi's words hung between you. You could only gaze back at him, chest rising and falling shallowly as you struggled to process the magnitude of the choice he'd presented. Stay mired in the anguish or take a leap into something frighteningly unknown, no matter the consequences.

Narumi held your stare in the weighted silence that followed his impassioned confession, his expression unguarded and vulnerable in a way you'd never witnessed before. For once, the silver-tongued charmer had no more quips or bravado to hide behind - he was simply a man in love, laying his heart on the line and bracing himself for your judgment, no matter how devastating it might be.

The two of you seemed frozen in that fraught tableau as the seconds ticked by, the air itself growing heavy with unspoken words and turbulent emotions. You opened your mouth once or twice as if to speak, but the syllables withered on your tongue before you could give them voice.

Narumi's brow creased infinitesimally, and he wet his lips with a quick sweep of his tongue before leaning in fractionally closer. "Please..." he rasped, the desperate entreaty roughening his voice even further. "Baby, say something. Anything. I can't keep dangling here without knowing where we stand—"

But you cut off his plea by surging forward and capturing his lips in a scorching, needful kiss. A hoarse groan reverberated from Narumi's chest as his hands came up to brackets your flushed cheeks, holding you flush against him as if he might drown without your embrace. His mouth moved hot and hungry against yours, years of unspoken longing and anguish pouring into the contact.

Panting against his lips, you mumbled the words you'd been unable to speak aloud moments before. "I can't lose you...can't keep walking away, Narumi. I'm tired of fighting this, of trying to deny what you mean to me..."

One of your hands fisted in the disheveled hair at his nape as you sealed your lips over his again in a fevered, desperate glide. Narumi rumbled deep in his chest, the sound practically a growl of raw relief and need as he angled to deepen the kiss.

His tongue delved past your parted lips to explore the velvet heat of your mouth with fervent sweeps and teasing flicks that had desire lancing through you in dizzying waves. Instinctively, you shifted closer until you were practically seated in Narumi's lap, legs parting to allow him to settle against your core with maddening friction.

One of your hands dropped between your bodies to cup and stroke the obvious ridge of his arousal straining against the fatigues. You whimpered against Narumi's lips as his hips canted with a grinding roll, the thick length of his cock dragging deliciously against your clothed heat.

"Yes..." you panted, fingers scrabbling between you to locate the fastenings of his trousers. "Let me, Gen...need to feel you—"

But Narumi's larger hand captured your wrist, stilling your heated efforts with surprising gentleness. When you pulled back with a questioning whine, you found his gaze gleaming with unmistakable tenderness amidst the banked flames of lust.

"Not tonight, baby girl," he murmured, bringing your knuckles to his lips to brush a featherlight kiss over them. "I'm not going to ravish you like an animal this time around, ok? Tonight...I just want to hold you. Close."

There was a huskiness in his tone that spoke of more emotional undercurrents than mere passion, and it made something within your chest constrict almost painfully. You searched Narumi's ruggedly handsome features, seeing the truth of his words reflected there.

With a shuddering exhalation, you allowed the urgent, clawing desire to ebb - at least for the time being. Instead, you shifted until you were nestled against his chest, curling into the protective circle of his arms as Narumi settled back against the headboard and pillows. His broader frame enfolded you in a cocoon of masculine heat and strength, the cadence of his heartbeat grounding against your cheek.

No more words were exchanged as you simply held one another through the lingering uncertainty. For now, basking in the rediscovered solace of closeness and vulnerability would be enough to see you through until whatever dawn awaited you both. The hard choices and conversations could keep for another day.

Tonight was for healing, for connection, for shoring up the battered foundations for any chance at weathering whatever fresh tempests lie ahead together.

Pale morning light filtered through the thin curtains, gradually rousing you from a deep, contented sleep. As consciousness returned, you became extremely aware of Narumi's powerful form spooning you from behind - the solid planes of his chest pressing against your back with each steady breath, one muscular arm wrapped securely around your midsection.

For a few tranquil moments, you simply relished the reassuring heat and strength of his embrace enveloping you fully. Despite the turbulence of your relationship, being cocooned against Narumi's larger frame invoked a sense of safety and comfort you hadn't felt in far too long.

However, as you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his warmth, you quickly grew cognizant of the rigid length prodding insistently against the cleft of your ass with each miniscule shift and twitch of his form. Even deep in slumber, Narumi's body instinctively sought the cradle of your curves, his hips rolling in subtle unconscious undulations as evidence of his arousal quickly stiffened against you.

A tremulous whimper slipped unbidden from your lips as that tantalizing pressure dragged against the seat of your sleep shorts. Immediately, you felt Narumi's arm tighten fractionally around your waist, a low groan of visceral appreciation rumbling from his chest. The rough pads of his fingers drifted along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, tracing idle patterns that made you shudder.

"Someone's feeling eager this morning," Narumi murmured, voice still raspy from sleep as he nuzzled the side of your neck. His teeth grazed your thundering pulse in a gentle graze, stoking fresh tingles of heat low in your belly.

You shifted in his arms, hips canting back to increase the delicious friction between your bodies. "Don't act so surprised," you breathed, trying for a sultry lilt despite the slight tremor. "We both know how...insatiable you tend to get after being apart for too long."

A strained groan punched from Narumi's lungs at your brazen words. His broad palm smoothed up the ridges of your abdomen until his fingertips brushed the underside of your breast. "Fuck, baby...you have no idea how long it's been," he rasped against the curve of your shoulder. "Weeks without getting to bury myself in this perfect body of yours, without listening to those beautiful sounds you make when I'm splitting you apart on my cock over and over..."

You gasped sharply at the lascivious imagery, squirming against the shocking insistent press of his arousal. Narumi took the opportunity to palm your breast, thumb brushing your peaked nipple through the thin camisole with just enough friction to make you whine urgently.

"Stay just like that for me," he growled in a deep rasp that reverberated straight to your core. "Stay nice and still while I take the edge off for us both..."

You shivered helplessly as Narumi dragged your thigh up over his hip to grant himself better access. His large hand delved beneath the waistband of your shorts, calloused fingertips tracing your sensitized folds with expert tenderness until you were panting and slick under his ministrations.

"God, you're soaked already," he hissed in a guttural rasp, his own breath coming in hot pants against your ear. "My poorgirl, needing this so badly...so fucking perfect..."

As he continued to stroke and tease, you couldn't help bucking back against the rigid line of his erection, mewling softly. That was apparently all the encouragement Narumi needed. In a deft motion, his free hand reached down to unfasten the front of his pants, drawing his cock free to glide between your thighs.

You arched into his touch, the heat and velvety smoothness of his shaft against your swollen, drenched flesh making you keen. With a strained groan, Narumi began to grind slowly, allowing his length to rub between your lips and over the throbbing bud of your clit with each leisurely thrust.

The heady friction was nearly enough to make your vision white out, the sensation heightened by the sheer intimacy of the position. Being held in his powerful embrace, enveloped by his musky masculine scent, made you feel utterly safe and protected. Yet the raw, animalistic power in every roll and snap of Narumi's hips spoke to an unshakable primal instinct, a feral craving that couldn't be denied or suppressed.

You writhed against him, moaning his name as he picked up the pace - rocking into you with firm, deep thrusts that left your pussy aching and clenching around nothing. The pressure was already building low in your abdomen, an insistent pulsating that seemed to draw every cell of your body inward towards a cataclysmic release.

"Gonna come, princess," Narumi panted raggedly against the crook of your neck, his grip tightening around your waist as the tempo of his movements became frenzied. "Squeeze your thighs tight, just like that, fuck—!"

A strangled groan wrenched from his chest as he slammed home, the swollen head of his cock nudging against the hood of your clit just so. The sudden intensity of the contact triggered a blinding, full-body climax.

You cried out, the sound mingling with the guttural noises spilling from Narumi's lips as he came in pulsing ropes. His cock twitched and jerked, painting your inner thighs and the apex of your mound in thick, milky strands. The added wetness only heightened the sensations wracking your body, making your clit throb and swell beneath the relentless glide of his length.

It was a few moments before the two of you managed to regain control of your breathing, bodies shuddering with aftershocks and the pleasant tingles of blissful relief. Once the haze receded enough, Narumi carefully extracted himself from the tangled nest of limbs and sheets, reaching down to tug your camisole off.

"Hold still," he murmured, eyes darkening as he took in the sight of his release marking your flushed skin. His large palm cupped and squeezed the generous curve of your ass before trailing upward, smearing his essence along your abdomen.

You bit your lip to suppress a moan as his fingertips stroked languidly between the soaked apex of your thighs, collecting more of his seed before tracing lazy circles around the peak of your breast. Narumi watched your face intently, taking in the way your nipples pebbled and tightened beneath the featherlight touch.

"Look at me," he ordered huskily, and your eyes fluttered open to meet his intense gaze.

In a slow, deliberate motion, Narumi dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the pert nipple, collecting the traces of his cum on the slick tip. A tremulous sigh of pleasure escaped your throat, and you couldn't help but reach up and tangle your fingers in his mussed hair.

Narumi's vermillion eyes flickered upwards as he continued to lick and suck, his expression darkening with unmistakable arousal. "So damn pretty when you're covered in my cum," he murmured in a low, rough timbre, sending a frisson of heat straight to your core.

When he was finished cleaning you up, his mouth migrated higher to capture yours in a deep, probing kiss. The taste of him was indescribable, and you couldn't help arching against the hard contours of his muscular frame.

Narumi growled against your lips, his own urgency mounting as he reached down to fumble the shorts off your hips, kicking his trousers to the foot of the bed. Your hands roamed over the hard planes of his shoulders and chest, fingers trailing through the wiry hair covering his abdomen until you finally found what you were searching for.

Your palm curled around his cock, already thick and hardening again as you began stroking the heated length. Narumi shuddered against you, hips pumping into your fist.

"Shit...you're gonna get me worked up again if you keep that up," he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained. Despite the protest, one of his hands joined yours, guiding your grip in firm, slow strokes that had his cock weeping and throbbing with renewed fervor.

"That's the idea," you replied, a teasing lilt coloring your words as you nipped the line of his jaw. "We're just getting started, after all."

Narumi gave a ragged laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "You really are insatiable, aren't you?" he remarked, voice dipping into a deeper rasp as you continued pumping his shaft. "I suppose I have been neglecting you for too long...and I'm a very attentive lover."

You arched an eyebrow in challenge. "Well then, how about putting your money where your mouth is, Gen?"

With a sinful smirk, he surged forward, pressing you back into the plush down pillows and silken sheets. You moaned his name, parting your thighs so he could settle between them and allow the tip of his cock to glide between the soaked folds.

His eyes bore into yours, glinting with an almost predatory gleam. "As you wish, baby," Narumi husked, and in one smooth, decisive motion, thrust into your heat.

The sensation was overwhelming - his cock was thicker and longer than any other lover you'd taken, the sheer fullness making you ache deliciously. You couldn't hold back a cry, nails raking his shoulders and back. Narumi groaned deeply, pausing a moment to allow you both a chance to adjust to the sudden stretch.

Once he was certain you were ready, he began to move, pumping his hips with slow, deliberate thrusts. Each measured stroke dragged over the sensitive bundle of nerves, sparking ripples of pleasure through your body. Your eyes fluttered closed, mouth falling open as soft moans spilled forth.

"No," Narumi growled, bracing a hand on either side of your head and forcing your eyes open once more. "Keep them open, baby girl. Look at me."

The intensity of his gaze nearly made your breath falter, and you couldn't resist bringing a hand up to cup his jaw, thumb tracing the chiseled cheekbone. Narumi leaned into the touch, expression softening slightly as he rolled his hips against yours.

"That's right," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, but still tinged with raw desire. "You know how much I love those pretty eyes looking up at me, watching me fuck you."

A whimper slipped past your lips as the tempo picked up, the rhythmic slide of his cock sending jolts of electricity through every nerve ending. You couldn't keep your gaze trained on his face, too overwhelmed by the myriad sensations wracking your body. But when Narumi's grip tightened fractionally, you forced your eyes open again.

He grinned, flashing the pearly gleam of his teeth. "Good girl."

Those two words alone were enough to send a flood of arousal pooling in the cradle of your pelvis, and you clenched tightly around him. Narumi's breath caught, his pupils blowing wide with unmistakable lust. "Shit, do that again," he rasped, dropping his head to nip and suck a bruise into the column of your neck.

You obliged him, squeezing around the hard girth as he increased the tempo. Narumi's lips traced a path downwards, the stubble on his jaw abrading the delicate skin of your throat and collarbone. When his teeth grazed the upper curve of your breast, your back arched sharply, a pleading whine tumbling from your lips.

"Gonna come," he muttered, the words half-muffled against your chest. "Touch yourself for me, Y/N. Want to see you fall apart with me..."

Eager to obey, you brought your hand down to circle and rub the swollen bud at the apex of your thighs. The added friction quickly brought you over the edge, your pussy clamping and fluttering around the thick intrusion as wave after wave of bliss washed through your body.

"Fuck, yes—!" Narumi snarled, hips snapping into you with short, rapid strokes before bottoming out and spilling his release with a broken groan.

You could feel his cock twitch and jerk within you, each pulse flooding your cunt with a fresh torrent of heat and seed. The sensation was almost too much, and you whimpered, squirming beneath him.

Narumi's hands slid up your thighs, holding them apart as he rocked into you slowly. His head dipped lower, and a shudder ripped through your body as his mouth captured your nipple. He suckled the sensitive bud with gentle, tender sweeps of his tongue, drawing out the final cresting waves of your climax until you were writhing and trembling beneath him.

For several moments, the two of you remained tangled together, basking in the warm afterglow. It was only when the sweat on your skin began to cool that Narumi carefully withdrew, his cock slipping free with a rush of viscous fluid. You shivered at the sensation, but his arms wrapped around you once more, pulling you against the solid wall of his chest.

"I'll never get tired of how beautiful you look with my cum leaking out of you," he mused, nuzzling your temple as his fingers trailed down to toy with the mess dribbling between your thighs.

You couldn't help a slight flush, but didn't resist as he gently teased your swollen, sensitive lips and clit. His touch was surprisingly reverent and careful, and despite the exhaustion creeping through your limbs, you found yourself responding to his ministrations.

"Gen..."

Narumi pressed a feather-light kiss against the corner of your mouth, the pad of his thumb rubbing languid circles over the hood of your clit. "Just relax, princess. Let me—"

"I love you, Gen."

The words were spoken so softly that for a moment, you weren't sure whether they'd been spoken aloud or only within the privacy of your mind. Narumi's eyes widened, the hand between your legs stilling as his lips parted in a wordless expression of surprise.

"I love you," you repeated, the confession falling from your lips with a sense of sweet relief. "I...should've said it so long ago. Shouldn't have let you leave without saying it, or—"

Narumi cut off your rambling by capturing your lips in a deep, impassioned kiss. His tongue swept along the seam, and you parted for him eagerly, allowing him to taste and claim you. When he finally drew back, there was a fire in his vermillion gaze that stole your breath.

"Don't ever think I didn't know, Y/N," he murmured, his tone rough and low. "I knew. God, did I know...but it was more important that you realized it for yourself."

You blinked back the stinging burn of unshed tears, reaching up to cup his cheek. Narumi turned his head, lips brushing over your palm in a tender caress. "I'm sorry for the way things played out," he admitted, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "For leaving the way I did. But I meant what I said. I never stopped loving you."

The dam within you broke, and hot tears spilled down your cheeks. But they weren't the bitter, salty tracks of regret and sorrow. These were born of a cleansing purge, of relief and joy and hope.

Narumi brushed away the glistening drops with a calloused thumb, expression softening. "Let me get cleaned up, and then we can talk some more," he suggested, his own voice suspiciously thick with emotion.

With a nod, you released him. You allowed your gaze to trail after his retreating form, appreciating the way his muscled back tapered to a narrow waist and the subtle shift and flex of the powerful thighs.

A smile tugged at your lips. There would be time enough to sort through the mess and figure out how to move forward, now that the worst had passed. But for the time being, simply reveling in the simple act of being together again was enough.

[commonurmoml]

Too Perfect

Rafe Cameron x Routlege!female

Warnings: comfort, angst, drinking, language, drugs, heartbreak, fighting, crying, rafe and mc are broken up, parties, drunk driving

Words: 3.3k

=====================

They can already hear the music blast loudly, reverberating through the entire beach, even half a mile away. Of course this was the only party tonight, why wouldn't it be? Parties at the Boneyard bring everyone out; kook, pouge, hell even tourons show up. Rafe opens his phone to check if she's there, which Topper immediately snatches from him.

"Nope. No more stocking her. It's weird. You can have this back later." He says, shoving it into his pocket.

"I don't wanna fucking do this." Rafe grumbles, already high out of his mind, and his two friends roll their eyes; bored of the conversation they have had a thousand times. It's been three weeks and Rafe has refused to go anywhere where she might be so, being the dicks that they are, Topper and Kelce decided to drag him out to a party she was literally throwing. Ok, so technically it was John B's party but really... the two of them are inseparable.

"Dude, just don't talk to her." Topper shakes his head, glancing over at Rafe before focusing on the road again. "She's probably not even gonna be there." He lies. She definitely will. The party is literally being thrown by her brother. It would be shocking if she wasn't.

"Plus didn't YOU break up with HER?" Kelce chuckles. "I thought you were 'just using her to get under John B's skin'." He quotes what Rafe would always say when they questioned why he was dating her. Rafe turns fully in his seat to give Kelce a death glare.

"Shut the fuck up. No one asked you, bitch." Rafe spits the words like venom, the coke making him extra mean.

"Jesus, sorry. Didn't realize you were pussy whipped by a dirty fucking pouge." He laughs and Topper groans, the only sober one in the car and fully aware that he's gonna have to deal with Rafe.

"Dude, can we no-" Topper's attempt at peace is quickly cut off.

"Don't fucking call her that. I'll kill you." Rafe is now fully turned around and clumsily trying to climb into the back seat to hit Kelce. Topper is quick to put his hand out, trying to wrestle Rafe back into his seat while simultaneously not crashing the car. He thanks god when Rafe complies, sliding back down and waiting silently to arrive at the beach.

Once they arrive, the car shakes from the vibrations of the base that plays loudly around the crowded beach. The boys immediately get out and start to walk through large groups of people to get drinks. The second Rafe sees John B he stops in his tracks. When her brother is around, she normally isn't too far behind. Topper glances over to Rafe, immediately noticing he is no longer walking with the group.

"Kelce!" He stops his friend, who looks at him confused. Topper jerks his head, motioning to Rafe who is standing a couple feet behind them just staring at John B, JJ, Pope, and Kiara. He's looking for her.

"Jesus." Kelce mumbles, shaking his head, when he realizes what Rafe is looking at. He walks over to Rafe putting his hands on both of the taller boy's shoulders, pulling Rafe out of his trance. "Come on, creepy. Let's go get you a drink." He teases slightly, directing him to a keg.

"Yah." Rafe mumbles, filling a red solo cup with what is surely shitty beer. The three get their drinks and move off to the side of the beach that is more populated by kooks. Almost an hour passes and the three talk and hang out with some friends. Actually... Topper and Kelce talk and hang out with some friends. Rafe just stands there, looking for her.

"Dude." Topper deadpans, now under the influence and fully relaxed enough to tease his friend with Kelce. "You gotta stop staring, it's fucking weird." He says and Rafe just glares at him.

"Shut up. I'm not doing anything." Rafe poorly defends, bringing his drink up to his lips and taking a huge gulp of the warm beer.

"Sure." Kelce chuckles. "So you weren't surveying the whole beach for her." Rafe just rolls his eyes.

"You two are both dicks, why'd you even bring me here?" Rafe snaps.

"Fuck, cause we didn't think it was that big of a deal. Have some fucking fun. It's not like you were in love with her." Topper defends like it's the craziest idea in the world but his face drops the second he sees the look of guilt in Rafe's eyes. No. No fucking way. Rafe is practically a psychopath when it comes to girls. Rafe doesn't do love. No fucking way Rafe Cameron was in love with someone, much less a pouge.

"Right." Rafe mumbles, averting eye contact and now Topper and Kelce are both giving him looks of genuine shock. Like the kind of looks you give someone who tells you your mom just died.

"Rafe are y-" Kelce's words are cut off by none other than JJ Maybank.

"You need to leave." He states simply.

"Excuse me?" Rafe dramatically turns to him, getting threateningly in his face.

"You. Need. To LEAVE." JJ speaks to him in the way you would a child.

"And why the fuck is that?" Rafe drops his drink to push JJ, sending the shorter blond boy stumbling back into the sand. This is when John B, Kie, and Pope rush over, noticing the interaction when they hear a crowd of people 'ooo' at Rafe pushing JJ.

"Yo, what the fuck?" Kie says, helping JJ up.

"What's going on?" John B stands between the two as if he's taming two wild animals.

"He needs to leave." JJ says, trying to rush Rafe but both Pope and Kie hold him back.

"I didn't do shit!" Rafe defends, copying JJ's actions but John B is the one to prevent it this time. John B steps forward a bit, coming chest to chest with Rafe and preventing him from moving towards JJ any further without fully tackling him.

"Really? You didn't do anything? Can't think of anything you did? Dick." Kie yells at him, getting angry on behalf of her friend. A small feeling of guilt washes over Rafe.

"Where is she?" Rafe asks, looking between the group.

"Not here, and she somehow knows you're here."

"Wonder how." Topper quietly jokes to Kelce and the two chuckle. They know exactly how she knows he's here. She and Rafe downloaded life360 months ago when she freaked out because he got super fucked up and stopped responding. It was like two days, not even long enough to be a bender but he has still never felt worse about something he did then when he saw the worried tears in her eyes. He immediately agreed to download the app and promised to never delete it no matter what. It's the only thing they haven't deleted or blocked each other on. Part of him still doesn't want to break his promise. He wants to pretend like he hasn't gotten rid of it because he just forgot. He can pretend like he doesn't check on her at least five times a day till he's blue in the face, his friends know the truth.

"She ain't gonna come if you're here which is why you need to leave." JJ responds angrily. Rafe looks down at John B who is now glaring at him, protective of his sister.

"Bullshit." Rafe snaps.

"Dude, let's just go." Topper puts his hand on Rafe's shoulder, pulling him back a bit. The revelation that his player friend is, or at least was, in love kinda rocked him. He wants to get Rafe home before he does something he regrets, and fighting her brother and best friend while she's already mad at him is certainly regrettable.

"Yah, why don't you." JJ says and Pope scolds him, knowing his words aren't helping. Rafe looks between the group of pouges and then glances back at his friends. His eyes are wild and his head is on a constant swivel. He seems genuinely freaked out.

"You're not even having fun, let's just go. We can stop by Barry's and pick up some." Kelce suggests, picking up on Topper's thoughts that he is going to seriously regret this in the morning.

"Fine." Rafe mumbles, angrily turning away, not bothering to acknowledge anyone as he pushes past the crowds to find Topper's car. Topper and Kelce struggle to keep up with his quick pace, following closely behind. When they get to the car, Rafe is already sitting in the passengers seat, waiting for them.

"What the fuck is your problem? It's not like you were even having fun." Topper mumbles as he gets in the car, immediately starting it and driving off towards Barry's house.

"Bullshit she doesn't wanna be there if I am." Rafe grumbles, rolling his eyes at JJ's words.

"Can you blame her? Dude she told you she loved you and you dumped her." Kelce reminds. "And apparently you actually do fucking lov-."

"Shut up." Rafe cuts him off. "I don't." He tries to defend though it's the least confident he has ever sounded. Topper glances in his rear view mirror, making knowing eye contact with Kelce. A split in the road forces Topper to make a decision. Just turn right, get some coke from Barry and go home. Of course, he goes left. "Dude, this isn't the way to Barry's." Rafe mumbles, looking back at the direction they just came from.

"That's cause we're not going to Barry's." Topper slurs. This is a stupid decision and he knows it. Forcing Rafe to confront his issues never went well. "You gotta fucking talk to her because I can't deal with the bitching anymore." He looks over to see panic in Rafe's eyes.

"No. Not today. I'm not ready." He looks around, turning to Kelce for support in his decision to evade his problems.

"Sorry man, Topp's right. This shit is getting annoying."

"Fuck. I'm too fucked up to talk to her right now. What do I even say?" Rafe panics, looking around as if he will find an escape.

"I don't know but you better figure it out." Topper laughs, pulling into the driveway of the Château. The look Rafe gives him genuinely shocks him. He has never seen his friend look so vulnerable. "Rafe..." He doesn't know what to say.

"I'm fine." He insists but he makes no movement to get out of the car.

"Just talk to her. The worst that happens is that she doesn't want to talk." Kelce rolls his eyes, completely sprawled out across the back seat by now. Rafe forces himself out of the car, having no intention of looking like some love sick pussy in front of his friends. Topper rolls down the window, leaning in so he can talk to his friend who is quickly walking away.

"How long you think this will take?" Topper yells out.

"Don't wait up." Rafe yells back.

"Whoa! I don't think that's a good id-" He stops in his tracks, spinning around quickly and cutting his blonde friend off.

"I said don't wait up." His usually commanding tone back in his voice. He turns back and walks into the Château without even bothering to knock. He walks swiftly, his commanding presence not faltering... not until he hears her voice. It's quiet and muffled, coming from behind the closed door to her room at the end of the hallway, but it's her. It's the first time he's heard her voice since they broke up and the sound of it makes his stomach turn.

"I- I don't care if he's not there anymore, JJ. I'm not coming." She pauses, clearly waiting for him to speak on the other line. Her voice sounds hoarse and quiet. She seems tired and the amount of guilt that runs through him that the thought that it's his fault makes him want to throw up. She would normally have raised her voice by now but she just sounds tired. "I just don't wanna come. I'm not in the mood to see people." She pauses again, still not bothering to raise her voice. "No. No, Jesus Christ I'm not depressed... Ok well tell Pope I'm not... I'm serious... JJ... I'm fine, just let me sleep." She finalizes with a sigh, going silent once her call is presumably done.

After a moment, Rafe gathers back his composure and takes a deep breath, pushing his way into her room. She jumps at the sudden noise, terrified of someone breaking into her home.

"It's just me." Rafe tries to reassure, though he's not certain in this moment if that's better.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Her voice cracks and as she looks up at him he fully takes in her appearance. Her eyes are puffy watery and red, partly dried tears streaking across her cheeks. Her lips are cracked and dry and look as if they have been bleeding recently. Her nose is red and she sniffles a bit. Her body is contorted into a ball and wrapped in a blanket. Under he can see the blue sweatshirt that covers her body. His sweatshirt. Rafe wants to kill himself at the sight. He can't believe he's responsible for hurting her, the girl he promised to protect. The girl he promised to never let anyone hurt.

"I... I wanted to tell you I'm sorry." Rafe approaches her bed slowly as he apologizes. The closer he gets, the more she tries to control her tears. She doesn't really want Rafe to know how much she's hurting. What she doesn't know is he is hurting just as much.

"JJ put you up to this?" She rolls her eyes, making note to scold her friend for meddling. She quickly brings her hand to her face and wipes the tears away.

"No." He defends, carefully sitting on the bed next to her.

"Bullshit." She lets out a shaky laugh. "You don't apologize." She deadpans. He sighs and reaches out for her. When his hand touches hers, she jerks it away. "Rafe." She warns, the tears she just wiped away collecting in her eyes again.

"Baby." He begs, calling her the name on instinct.

"Don't." She demands, squeezing her eyes shut, a single tear falling down her cheek when she does so.

"I... I should have never broke up with you. I miss you."

"Rafe. Please don't do this to me. Don't say that because I will do it. I'll go running back into your arms and I'll get hurt again." She is now full on crying, looking at her ex-lover with blurry eyes.

"I'm not asking for you back. I just... I need you to know I miss you." He sighs. The reasons he broke up with her aren't gone. He wants nothing more than to love her. To kiss her but, he can't. "I lov-" She immediately cuts him off.

"Don't." She sobs outs. "Please don't say something you don't mean." She cries hard. He wraps his arms around her shaking body, his hand gripping the back of her head. He is overwhelmed by the feeling of her in his arms again. God, she smells so sweet.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers into her hair. He hates himself for making her cry like this. If he was anyone else, Rafe would have already beat him to a pulp. She just cries, allowing him to hold her because to be honest it has been the first time she has felt whole since they broke up. So, instead of pushing him away, she wraps herself around him and buries her head into his shoulder to cry into.

"Why?" Her voice is soft and weak. "Why did you leave?" She sobs again.

"I-" He doesn't want to tell her the real reason. How is he supposed to tell her she's too good for him? He really doesn't want her to blame herself. But, he's never lied to her and he's not gonna start now. "I'm fucked up." He whispers and she immediately shakes her head.

"Stop. I hate when you say that." She says between hiccups. "You're not fucked up."

"Yes I am. I'm violent, and angry, and I can't commit. You're too perfect for me. You deserve better."

"I don't want better. I want you. Shouldn't that be for me to decide Rafe?" She sobs, holding him closer.

"I know, princess but, I just can't ruin you. You're so sweet and perfect. I can't give you what you want."

"You don't know what I want." She attempts.

"I do. I know you. You want babies and a husband and love. I... I won't be a good father, or husband for that matter. Lord knows I don't have a good example. You deserve someone who doesn't snort five lines and try to kill someone every time something bad happens." He sighs.

"I don't care about any of that Rafe. I love you. I want you." She sobs, completely forgetting her plan of staying composed and away from him. He rubs up and down her back as she cries, letting their wordless presence hang in the air.

"I love you." He says softly and it shocks her so much that she actually gasps.

"Rafe..."

"I'm serious, princess. I love you. I'm so sorry. We can't be together. You have no clue how much I wish I could be the man you need. The man you deserve." He says, his words pulling more and more sobs out of her.

"You are what I need Rafe. Please. Don't do this to me." She cries, the break up hitting her all over again.

"You don't want me."

"Yes I do!" She raises her voice.

"Baby." He starts.

"No! It's not fair Rafe!" She yells again, pushing him away. "You don't get to make this decision on your own! If you don't love me, fine! But, if you do... you don't get to push me away because 'you're not good enough'. That's not fucking fair to me! Rafe I have been MISERABLE without you!" She lets out a sob. "It's only been three weeks and I feel like I'm dying." She whispers. "I can't do this for the rest of my life Rafe. Do you love me?" She questions. He looks down at her, tears in his own eyes, and places his hand on her cheek. His large hand consumes her entire face, his thumb rubbing away fat tears.

"Yes."

"Then be with me." She practically begs.

"It's not that simple." He says, placing his forehead against hers.

"Yes it is. You keep saying you're not the man I deserve but you are. You are sweet, to me at least," They both chuckle at her words. "and funny and protective. And sure, maybe you're a little angry but you want to be better. You're not sitting there like you don't have a problem. You are a better man because you want to be a better man. I love you, Rafe. Please." She begs and he sighs. She closes her eyes softly, slowly moving her mouth forward until her lips come into contact with his. He greedily kisses back, missing the way her lips feels on his.

"Baby." He mumbles against her mouth.

"What?" She whispers back. He takes her by the shoulders, pushing her back to arm's length so he can look her in the eyes when he says this.

"I wanna do this right this time. No bullshit hooking up for the first time in that stupid van at some stupid party. No waiting months to call you mine. No shit from your brother. No hiding you from my parents or friends. No dates on the mainland. I wanna take you out. Treat you right. Like how you deserve." She smiles, pulling his body in to hug her.

"Rafe." She whispers happily.

"Yah?" He asks against her shoulder.

"Please kiss me." He smiles into her shoulder, how could he say no to that?

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 28- Miguel x F!Reader: Dirty Talk

Summary: Miguel wants to try something new in your relationship.

Warning: MINORS DNI, SMUT, dirty talk

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It had been over a year since you and Miguel had started dating. The two of you were nearly inseparable. The two of you had met at Alchemax and soon came to enjoy each other's company. The chemistry you shared was unique.

Eventually, you pieced together that Miguel was Spider-Man. Once that secret was out, there was not much holding the two of you back. You would help him with the best of your abilities, just as long as he was honest with you.

Miguel was a stressed man. You were happy to calm and ease his worries. Best way was with sex. Miguel had the stamina to go on for hours. You always joked that it would not help with stress, but Miguel always said otherwise.

Tonight...Miguel said that he wanted to try something new.

"You look exhausted, Miguel. Want me to set the bath first?" You offered as Miguel entered your place through the window.

"Not yet," Miguel sighed heavily, taking his mask off and embracing you with a deep kiss, "I would like to destress first."

"Hehe, such a brat," You teased, "So, what did you want to try?"

"Hmm," Miguel had his suit disappear as he hovered over you on the bed, "I'm going to say a lot of bad things, mi amor (my love). Just remember I don't mean it."

"Ahhhh, dirty talk," You chuckled, taking your pajamas off, "Want me to call you, Daddy?"

"Hn,"

Miguel grunted softly as he captured your lips in a deep kiss. His hands groping your body as he placed himself between your legs. You could feel Miguel's erection as he rubbed his dick against your damp panties.

"What a naughty girl. Already so wet and I barely did anything."

You shuddered towards his words, finding this rather exciting. Miguel being mean to you while having sex might be a good idea after all. Gasping softly, you arched your back as Miguel started to rub against you rougher.

"Aye, mi putita linda (my pretty little slut). Want my dick that bad, huh? Want to be my fuck toy?"

"Mhm, yes~" You cooed.

Miguel chuckled as he ripped your panties off with his talons. You gasped, glaring towards him.

"Miguel! I just bought those!"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" Miguel asked with a raised brow.

Leaning down, Miguel started to gently bite your shoulders. He knew he couldn't bite down fully or his venom would paralyze you. Perhaps that would be something for another time.

"Tell me what it is you want." Miguel demanded as the tip of his dick poked at your throbbing hole.

"Mhm..."

"Speak. What does my pretty little fuck doll want?" Miguel taunted, biting your shoulder again.

Who would have thought this was so hot?

"Your dick," You begged, shaking your hips slightly, "I want your dick."

You gasped as Miguel gave you what you wanted. He threw your legs over his shoulder and inserted his large dick into your pussy. You moaned at the feeling of being stretched out, ready for another long night of passionate sex.

"So tight. Just for me," Miguel groaned as he started to thrust his hips into you, "Tell me, (Y/N), what are you good for?"

"Ah~ Hah~ Y-Your dick!" You cried out, his fast pace already making a mess of you, "T-To please you!"

"Your slutty pussy belongs to me. See how well you're sucking my dick in? So fucking naughty," Miguel chuckled.

Your core started to burn as Miguel kept insulting you. His rough thrusts matching his harsh words, making you wet with each one. His grip was tight against your waist, making sure you wouldn't squirm away from his thrusts.

"Fuck, look at you. A horny mess. Tell me, you like how my dick destroys you, right?"

"Y-Yes!" You moaned, flinching as you felt your orgasm appraoching.

"That's right. Keep sucking my dick with these tight lips. You're going to drink every last drop of my cum, right (Y/N)?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Miguel's dick was abusing your pussy. His tip kissing your cervix as his balls slapped against your burning core. You felt his dick twitch inside you as your orgasm began to wash over you. Crying his name out, you moaned breathlessly as he unloaded inside you.

"Tired already? I'm no where near done with you."

--------

You were on your knees, face pressed against the pillow as nothing but moans escaped your lips. You lost track of time and the amount of times Miguel has cummed inside you. His pace was still ongoing, but you were losing stamina.

"Done already?" Miguel questioned with a slap of your ass.

"Hn~"

"Your pussy is still begging for more. Let me guess, you want to get pregnant, do you? To have my baby?" Miguel chuckled, his hips thrusting faster, "You better not spill anything after this load, (Y/N). Si lo haces, no tendré más remedio que convertirte en mi basurero de esperma. Convertirte en una madre muy pronto. (If you do, I'll have no choice but to turn you into my cum dumpster. Make a mother out of you really soon.)"

You couldn't even understand what Miguel was saying. All you felt was your body give into one more explosion of pleasure as you saw stars. You swore that this was the moment you entered heaven, since you couldn't think anymore.

Miguel panted heavily as he held onto you for a moment longer. His dick finally falling limp after cumming inside you again. Slowly pulling out, Miguel was careful to lay you down. You body twitched as you slept soundly.

"Aye, my lovely (Y/N)." Miguel whispered, kissing your head, "You spoil me too much."

Getting the shower ready, Miguel returned to retrieve you. His eyes wandered your body, admiring his work. So many of his marks on you. Focusing on your cunt, Miguel's lips twitched into a smirk as his cum started to flow out of you.

"I owe you an apology after this," He chuckled, carrying you into the bathroom, "Perhaps after I get you pregnant."

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Hope you enjoyed!!!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

[pxob]

angel eyes

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5524

Category: Enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, angst and fluff.

Warnings: Manga spoilers (if you squint), mentions of death, blood and injury and swearing.

Prologue 

Kanae-sama and Shinobu-sama had taken you in as a child after a demon attack had brutally slaughtered your parents. From that day on, you harboured a deep resentment towards the foul creatures that had caused so much pain and suffering, not just to you but to countless others as well.

Despite the trauma you had endured, your gratitude towards the Kocho family never wavered. They had taken you in, provided you with a loving home, and helped you heal from the devastating loss of your parents. 

While Kanao was timid and obedient, you were more like a replica of Kanae-sama's personality - kind, loving, and easy-going, except when it came to your deep-seated resentment towards demons. 

Your bond with Kanae-sama was as tight as any sibling relationship could be. Shinobu-sama recognised your deep connection with her biological sister and would even let her strict personality slip around you. From dawn until dusk, you trained with Kanae-sama and shared meals with her every evening. You were inseparable, to the point where Shinobu-sama had to physically intervene to separate the two of you. 

Until she died at the hands of Upper Moon 2. The news spread like wildfire, and you threw yourself into training with tireless resolve, determined to become the Tsuguko that Kanae-sama had hoped for. 

Kanao and Shinobu-sama were worried about you day and night, and despite Kanao's silent presence, she never left your side. She was aware of the hole in your heart that may never be filled again after Kanae-sama's death. 

A part of you, gone. 

“You’re not going to like this,” Aoi said as a way of greeting. She was standing at the sliding door of yours and Shinobu-sama’s research room. 

“Aoi-chan,” you looked up at her from your microscope. “What are you unhappy about now?” You teased. 

“Oh, it’s not me who's going to be unhappy,” Aoi said, giving you a knowing smile. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity as you heard a pair of unfamiliar footsteps approaching. 

Aoi stepped aside and introduced you to the boy. "This is Shinobu-sama's Tsuguko," she said, "She'll be giving you frequent check-ups, so please treat her with respect." Her words dripped with venom as she added, "And if you don't, I'll poison your medication." 

The boy stood in the same spot where Aoi had been moments before, his impressive height looming over her. He donned the uniform of a demon slayer, and his muscular physique strained against the tight sleeves. As you observed him closely, you couldn't help but count the numerous scars that littered his body. 

You also couldn't help but notice the unruly, unevenly cut hair on his head that resembled a rooster's comb. 

“You’re fucken kiddin’ me,” were his first words. 

You smiled in realisation, remembering clearly where you first met this boy.

Upon reaching the mountain top, you both were met with the discord of yelling and bodies shifting aggressively on the cobblestone path. 

“This is for starin’ at me, ya yellow-headed freak,” the boy shouted as he grabbed the other young boy by his yellow kimono. 

The examinees were scattered, murmuring, yet none intervened. 

“I WASN’T STARING AT YOU!” He shrieked. 

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. 

“Ya were, dickwad,” the boy replied, his fist raised menacingly. 

Without hesitation, you swiftly made your way towards the boy, grabbing his wrist tightly. 

“It’s rude to assault strangers,” you said calmly, a smile plastered onto your face. 

"The fuck," he said aggressively as he tried to retract his wrist from your grasp, you tightened your grip even more. 

The yellow-haired boy fled the moment he saw an opening, tears streaming down his cheeks as he trembled uncontrollably. 

“Let go, bitch,” he spat out, face turning red. 

Kanao took a step toward him, a silent threat emanating from her. 

“It’s okay, Kanao,” you said kindly, “Some people are unfortunate to not have been taught basic manners.” 

The bystanders began to chuckle lightly. 

"One day, I hope he learns to be kind," you said, twisting his wrist firmly. "Otherwise, his attitude will be the death of him." You then took hold of his elbow, manoeuvring it into a lock and guided him towards the ground. 

A resonating thump followed as he hollered below you. 

“YOU FUCKEN BITCH I’LL SLAUGHTER YOU!” 

“Your attitude has not changed since then it seems,” you stood, slowly walking towards him. 

He had grown an incredible amount in the short time since you last saw him, a clear indication of Himejima's rigorous training regimen and, most likely, his constant consumption of demon flesh. 

"Thank you for bringing him here, Aoi-chan," you said, the boy was staring back at you with a bewildered expression. "You may go now," you added, dismissing Aoi with a nod of your head. 

“Please come in,” you said, turning and leading the way towards the working desk, where there were two chairs on opposite sides of the table. “Please take a seat,” you gestured towards one of the chairs, noticing that the boy was still standing by the door. 

"I'm not coming in," he declares, looking down the hallway, averting his gaze. 

"Why is that? I won't bite," you joke with a friendly smile. But the boy remains rooted to the spot. 

“What’s your name?” you asked politely. 

“None of your business,” he snapped back. 

“Okay, none of your business,” he scoffed at that. “I’m going to be putting my valuable time and efforts into you-” 

“That was your choice,” he cut you off rudely.

Classic 

“Himejina-san informed me all about your case,” You walked towards the cabinet, situated on the far side of the room, where you stored all sorts of medicinal concoctions. Your gaze scanned the shelves, searching for the specific one you needed, after a few moments of searching, you finally found the right vial and walked back towards him. 

As you approached him, you noticed he was watching you every step of the way. You held out the vial and said, "I've created this specifically for your special case. It's designed to help mitigate any extraneous effects that may arise." 

The boy's eyes narrowed sceptically as he glanced back and forth between you and the vial. He hesitated before finally speaking up, "What if you poisoned this shit?" 

"Don't worry," you said. "It's completely safe.” 

He took the vial and inspected it closely. "Should you ever feel overwhelmed with the powers of the demons you consume, this should help ease it," you explained. "I recommend that you drink a tablespoon every half day and come back to me every week to check in on your progress." 

You took a step back from him and flashed a teasing smile. "And maybe then, you'll finally feel comfortable enough to share your name with me!" 

His face contorted into an irked expression, and he turned to walk away upon hearing your comment. As he strode down the hallway, you noticed him tuck the vial into his pocket and observed his ears turning red. 

A few days later, a group of three new demon slayers arrived at the Butterfly Mansion and were granted the privilege of staying there. You recognised each one of them from the mountain top of the final selection. Among them was the yellow-haired boy named Zenitsu, who seemed to recognise you even more. He took a considerable liking to you, constantly fawning whenever he catches sight of you. 

But what surprised everyone was the presence of a demon among them. It was unprecedented to have a demon among the ranks of the demon slayers; however, despite this, you have taken a liking in investigating the demon named Nezuko. 

Kanae-sama had a goal of eventually living in peace with demons. If Kanae-sama were here, she would have loved Nezuko, a sweet young girl who can easily be seen as a younger sister figure to almost anyone. 

“Zenitsu-san, your drool is creating a puddle on the ground,” you said as you were training. 

He sighed dreamily, “You’re so radiant, etherial, powerful-” 

You promptly resumed your training as Zenitsu's words started to sound like white noise. 

As he continued to ogle over you, another presence approached the training grounds. He stopped immediately upon seeing you training, his eyes scanning over your movements with interest. 

He watched as you effortlessly destroyed every single bamboo target with just a few swings of your Nichirin blade. Your movements were so swift and precise, as if you were dancing through the air. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy and spite as he watched you move with such ease and grace. 

He wondered how many hours of practice and dedication it must have taken to reach such a level of skill. 

He could tell that you had been a Tsuguko for quite some time, likely honing your skills through rigorous training and practice. If you continued at this pace, he couldn't help but wonder if you might become a Hashira in a matter of months. And what was even more impressive was that you would be the second youngest among the Hashira, which made your potential all the more remarkable. 

The thought of someone else reaching such a high level of skill and potential while he remained stagnant infuriated him. It stung even more because he had always wanted to impress his brother, the only person he ever truly wanted to please. But seeing your abilities, he couldn't help but feel like he would never be good enough in his brother's eyes. 

You turned around, a smirk spreading across your face as beads of sweat rolled down your serene complexion. "Oh, didn’t see you there," you said with a chuckle. "I'm glad you came back."

Zenitsu's eyes snapped to where you were now looking and he yelped, "SCARY MAN!" 

The boy turned to face Zenitsu and said, "Piss off, creep.” 

His words made Zenitsu run to where his other two companions were within the mansion. 

You headed towards the engawa, where a carafe of water was waiting for you. As you walked away, he couldn't help but survey the damage you had done to all of your targets. It was clear that you had accomplished it all without using any specific techniques, leaving him in awe. "How did you do that?" he blurted out. 

As you finished gulping the water, swiping the rouge droplets from your chin you asked, “Do what?” 

He pointed towards the targets, now reduced to mere fragments joining with the dirt on the ground. 

You let out a small laugh, "How did I do it without using any breathing technique?" You walked towards his side, "You're quite observant. How about you tell me your name and I'll teach you a thing or two?" You teased. 

"Genya Shinazugawa," he replied straight to the point. 

You grinned and said, "I meditate for an hour every morning and night." 

He looked at you with disbelief and asked, "Ya kidding, right?" He visibly deflated and continued, "Ya tellin’ me you sit on your ass and breathe for two hours a day? That's fucken ridiculous," his tone laced with disdain. 

"You'll understand one day," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice, and then pivoted on your heel. "Let's start your check-up, Genya-san." 

“Take off your shirt,” you instructed. 

Genya stuttered in surprise, “What?” 

As you reached for the stethoscope from the table drawer, you said, "I need to listen to your lungs and heart for any defects.” 

“Oh.” 

Respecting Genya's privacy, you continued facing the opposite direction as he removed his upper layers. You could hear the rustling of clothes and then the sound of them falling to the floor. Once you sensed that he had finished, you turned around to face him. 

You couldn't help but marvel at his physique. At his age, he was unbelievably ripped with muscles and scars that seemed to accentuate his sculpted form, as if he was crafted from the finest quality marble. You rubbed your eyes, pretending as if something had gotten into them and then looked at him, only to find that he was already staring back at you. 

“Please have a seat,” you gestured towards the chair beside the table. 

He complied, appearing to be more cooperative than before. You pulled a stool in front of him and noticed him tense up, every muscle in his body taut. 

You clenched your jaw, put on the earpieces, and carefully placed the stethoscope on his left pectoral, listening to the booming beat of his heart.

 "Why is your heart beating so quickly, Genya-san?" You prodded, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"Drank tea," he replied too quickly. 

As you removed the stethoscope from his pectoral and stood up, you noticed that he was staring out the window. 

"Are you nervous, Genya-san?" you asked, trying to provoke a response. 

He snapped his eyes toward you. "Fuck no," he said, his voice tense. 

You towered over him as he remained seated in the chair, observing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched and his hands balled up in fists. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly walked around to his back and brought the stethoscope above his scapula. 

“Genya-san,” you said softly. 

"What?" he said sharply. 

"Your lungs aren't expanding and contracting properly," you pointed out, a clear indication that he was holding his breath. "I'm going to need you to take some deep breaths for me."

Reluctantly, he complied and you listened carefully to his breathing. His lungs seemed to be contracting more than they should for someone at rest. 

You took a step back and removed the stethoscope, gaping at the size of his back. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to clear the improper thoughts that had crept into your mind. 

He hastily gathered the clothes lying on the floor and put them on. “Has the medicine been helpful to you in any way?” you asked. 

He responded with a grunt. 

“I need you to respond verbally, Genya-san,” you insisted. 

“Yes,” he snapped. 

"Very well," you said, making your way to the table and focusing on the array of ingredients on your shelves, trying to regain your composure. 

"You're healthy. I'll just need you to avoid drinking tea before our next check-up," you concluded. 

You heard the sound of the door sliding opening. "Please close the door on your way out," you said delicately, not turning around to face him. He did exactly that, saying nothing but walking out of the room. You swore under your breath. 

As he sped down the hallway, his mind raced and his heart pounded with a sense of urgency. 

He knew he couldn't deal with you anymore. The thought of being trapped within four walls with you made his stomach leap, a clear indication of disgust.

Your soft spoken voice, loving eyes and kind touches had a way of making him feel at ease. He couldn't help but notice how you treated everyone with kindness, even those who mistreated you. It was intoxicating and he couldn't comprehend how someone could be so selfless. 

Your angel eyes saw good in many evil, it was something that both repulsed and charmed him at the same time. He couldn't understand how you could be so forgiving and compassionate, yet he found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

As he rushed out of the mansion, he bumped into a red-headed boy, barely registering his presence. The boy yelled something after him, but all Genya could think of was getting away from you. He needed to breathe, to clear his head, because the more he allowed himself to be drawn towards you, the more his carefully constructed plan to reach his brother began to crumble. 

He knew he couldn't afford to let himself catch feelings for you. It would only make things more complicated and could jeopardise everything he had worked so hard for. But the more he thought about you, the more he found himself unable to resist your angelic nature. 

Genya's frustration boiled over as he ran his hands through his hair, yanking on his locks in anger. "FUCK!" he shouted, lashing out and kicking a nearby rock, sending it careening into the trees. 

Today was the day of another weekly checkup. 

You were prepared, steeling yourself to remain professional and composed despite the tension that lingered between you. 

As you waited for Genya's arrival, you reviewed your notes and made sure everything was in order. Despite trying to remain composed, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. 

It was a little late, later than he had previously arrived. You tried to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that anything could have delayed him and it was better to wait patiently. 

The sun had already set and the night stars were becoming prominent outside your window. 

"Where is he?" you muttered to yourself, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

You couldn't help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the appointment, perhaps because of his stubborn nature or his reluctance to be confined in the medical room. 

So be it, Genya. 

Despite trying to distract yourself with training, your thoughts kept wandering back to Genya. It had been several days since you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder where he was and what he was doing. 

But you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on your role as a mentor to Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu. You spent long hours helping them hone their skills and improve their techniques. Tanjiro, in particular, showed remarkable progress and you couldn't help but feel proud of him. 

"Tanjiro-san, you're improving at an astonishing rate!" You praised him. 

"It's all thanks to everyone here, including you," he replied with a grin. 

One of the things that made you happiest was being able to help others. You had a big heart and always went out of your way to offer assistance, even when it wasn't necessary. Seeing others improve and achieve their goals gave you a sense of fulfilment that was hard to describe. 

"You too Inosuke-san, well done!" You gave his arm a genuine squeeze, acknowledging his effort. 

Inosuke mumbled something behind his mask, but you could sense the delight in his tone. 

Zenitsu, on the other hand, couldn't help but interject. 

"But what about me,” he whined. "Am I improving too?" 

"Well, Zenitsu-san, you're definitely...trying," you said diplomatically. 

Zenitsu pouted, clearly hoping for more praise, but you knew he had a lot of work to do before he could truly become a skilled demon slayer. 

Despite his flaws, however, you couldn't help but feel a soft spot for him. You looked around the training grounds and realised you needed to get back to your research. 

"I'll leave you all to your training," with a wave goodbye, you turned and walked away while they bowed in response. 

As you strode, you heard the sound of yelling and pleading coming from inside the mansion.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickened your pace and soon noticed droplets of blood on the hardwood floor. Your hand instinctively reached for the hilt of your sword. 

Running, you followed the trails of blood and desperate cries, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Finally, you skidded to a stop, frozen at the sight before you. 

Genya had always been aware of the risks that came with being a demon slayer. But this particular demon had been stronger than he had anticipated and had managed to inflict injuries that were more severe than he was used to.

Genya relied on consuming the flesh of other demons to heal his own wounds, but this time he had not been successful in consuming a single thing from the demon. This lack of regeneration made the wounds even more excruciating and difficult to deal with. 

Despite the pain, his first thought was to find you, the medical expert who could treat his injuries. He knew that he needed your help to heal and get back on his feet. With that in mind, he had managed to make his way to the mansion, gritting his teeth through the pain as he focused on reaching you. 

Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi trembled in fear as Genya strode through the gates of the Butterfly Mansion, paying no heed to his open wounds. 

He was stubborn to reach you. He trusted only you to treat him or even touch him. 

Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving a trail on the floorboards of the mansion as he made his way towards your office. He ignored the cries of the three girls, driven solely by the hunger to reach you. 

“You’re dripping blood on the floor, please stop!” Naho begged. 

“Let us help you, Genya-sama, it will only get worse!” Kiyo added. 

“Shut up,” he snarled. He didn't mean to sound so hostile, but he needed to reach you without distractions. 

The sound of the girls’ screams echoed in Genya’s ears as he shoved his way towards your office, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every step. 

His hand left bloody smears on the door as he pushed it open, desperate to find you. But when he stumbled into the room, he found it empty. 

His vision was blurry, and he was seeing spots, the pain almost unbearable. He staggered backwards, using the wall to steady himself as he tried to call out for you. 

Suddenly, he heard the skid of someone stopping behind the three girls who were still screaming in terror. He turned his head, his eyes fixing on you as you stood there with your hand on the hilt of your sword. 

You were frozen in place, clearly shocked by the bloody and battered figure of him. 

“Genya Shinazugawa!” You gasped in shock, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth. 

You gently moved Sumi out of the way to reach him. As you got closer, you saw the bloody handprints on the door and the exhaustion on Genya's face. Your heart sank at the sight of his injuries. 

“Please prepare the first aid materials in the infirmary,” you commanded the three girls, they ran quickly. 

"Genya, what happened?" You asked, your voice trembling with concern as you took a closer look at him. 

“Demon,” he said softly. “In a lotta pain,” he added. 

You nodded, your mind already racing with what needed to be done. "Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said. 

You gently took Genya's hand and led him towards the infirmary, careful not to aggravate his wounds. Despite the excruciating pain he must have been experiencing, he stiffened at the sudden contact. You noticed this and quickly dropped your hand, apologising, "Sorry, I should have asked." 

Genya grabbed your hand and held it tightly. "No," he said, "I liked it." 

Your eyes widened at his bold statement, and a blush crept onto your face. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you led him into the infirmary.

After a few hours of tending to Genya's wounds, he finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber. 

You sat by his bedside, watching over him as he slept. As you gazed at him, you noticed how peaceful he looked, with his breathing slow and steady. 

With your heightened senses, you slowly turned to catch a glimpse of a white-haired man standing silently by the door. 

He lifted his index finger to his lips, signalling for you to stay quiet. 

You nodded in understanding, still surprised by his unexpected arrival. 

He sat himself softly on Genya's bed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. Your eyes widened as you pieced together the resemblance between the two of them. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa left a kiss on his brother's forehead. 

After Sanemi finished looking at his brother, satisfied with the amount of care given to him, he walked towards you and whispered in your ear, “Thank you.” He then walked out of the room. 

The next morning, you decided to bring breakfast to Genya, wanting to compensate for his sore body with a meal served in bed. As you entered the room, you found him sitting up and staring out of the window, watching the lush trees dance in the fresh air. 

"Good morning," you greeted him with a beautiful smile, holding a tray of food in your hands. 

"Mornin’," he grumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered at the sound of his voice. 

"I brought you some food," you said, making your way to him. "May I sit?" you gestured towards the bed. 

"Feel free," he replied softly. 

You sat down next to him and placed the food on his lap, pouring a glass of water from his side table. Genya was about to grab a spoonful of food for himself, but you gave him a warning glance. 

"What?" he looked confused. 

You took the spoon from his fingers and guided it to his mouth, feeding him yourself. 

His face turned bright red as he promptly covered it with his large hand, grabbing your wrist. "I can feed myself," he whispered. 

"I know," you replied with a teasing smile. "But I can't help enjoy seeing you blush.” 

He stared at you intently, as if searching for something in your eyes. 

“You need to eat, Genya-san,” you reminded him. 

He opened his mouth and you brought the spoonful of food towards him. He gratefully accepted it and sighed in satisfaction after swallowing it. Then, you brought the glass of water to his cracked lips. 

Water escaped from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb, but as soon as your skin made contact with his, you felt a jolt run through you. You looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had clouded over and his ears were red. 

"I'M SO JEALOUS!" Zenitsu exclaimed loudly. 

"Shut up!" Inosuke swatted Zenitsu’s head. 

Genya turned his attention to the door, where Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjiro were peeking in. 

"Get. The. Fuck. Out!" Genya bellowed, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Nezuko-chan," you said while sitting on the engawa, gently smoothing out her hair. She was lying on your lap as the two of you basked in the moonlight. 

She let out an enthusiastic hum, and her small hands reached up to grasp yours, nuzzling her cheek against your palm. 

The gesture made your heart swell with warmth, and you couldn't help but think that this is how Kanae-sama must have felt when you were younger. 

You chuckled softly as you noticed Genya’s attempting to spy on the two of you from the hallways of the mansion. "Ganya-san thinks I can't see him spying on us," you said with amusement. 

He made his presence even more obvious by speaking up, "Ya know you got a demon on your lap, right?" he said. 

"I am most aware," you smiled at him. 

The moonlight highlighted your features even more, making you look ethereal. 

"Why do you smile," he asked, his curiosity piqued. "When you feel so angry all the time?" 

His sudden analysis caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a little surprised. 

Nezuko gazed up at you, her eyes full of curiosity and admiration. You couldn't help but think of Kanae-sama and how she used to play with your hair in the same way you were now with Nezuko. 

Genya's words had stirred up memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of her loss came flooding back. Your throat started to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. "Fuck," Genya was taken aback by your sudden change in attitude.

Nezuko's sudden embrace took you by surprise. You cried hard on her shoulder, the memories of Kanae-sama and the pain of losing her flooded back to you. Your tears wet her kimono, but she didn't seem to mind. It was as if she understood your pain, despite being a demon. 

Genya watched with a mixture of confusion and concern. He had never seen this side of you before, and it made him realise how little he knew about you. He always saw you as the kind-hearted person with a beautiful smile on your face, always ready to help anyone in need. 

It was difficult for him to see you in so much pain, and he didn't know how to comfort you. 

He hesitantly placed a hand on your head, and you made a muffled sound of surprise from the sudden touch. You turned around and looked at him through your wet lashes, tears still running down your cheeks. 

“I got you,” he said, looking you in the eyes and giving you soft smile. 

He sat down next to you, allowing his shoulder to touch yours. You felt a flutter in your chest at the contact and didn't dare move, afraid the moment might end. 

You looked down to check on Nezuko, she had fallen asleep in your embrace.

Genya's took your hand in his, it was so warm in yours as he ran his thumb along your knuckles. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of being close to him as you both gazed up at the night sky. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Genya shifted slightly, looking down at you. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "So beautiful."

Two months had passed since Genya started his frequent check-ups, and your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful. You found comfort and joy in each other's company, and Genya seemed to have found a sense of purpose being around you. 

On this particular day, the two of you were sitting on the engawa, overlooking the stunning garden of the butterfly mansion. The fragrant scent of flowers wafted through the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves added to the serene atmosphere. 

You had previously mentioned to Genya that you would meditate for two hours a day, and he had expressed interest in joining you. 

Sitting in silence, Genya found it increasingly difficult to stay still. His legs were losing feeling, his nose was itching, and he was just so close yet so far from you. It was pissing him off that he couldn't hold your hand, kiss your forehead, or have you play with his hair. 

As he tried to resist the urge to sneeze, Genya's nose continued to twitch uncontrollably. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable sitting in silence next to you, struggling to maintain stillness during meditation. He wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, feel the warmth of your touch, or have you play with his hair. But he knew that any movement on his part would break the stillness of the moment. 

Despite his discomfort, he refused to touch his nose. He had noticed that you had an amazing sense of spatial awareness, and he didn't want to risk breaking the peaceful atmosphere with even the slightest movement. So, he tried to hold on as long as possible, hoping the sneeze would subside on its own. 

It did not, it only got worst. 

He slowly opened one eye, feeling a bit apprehensive about disturbing your meditation, but then he couldn't resist the urge to steal a glance at you. However, he quickly regretted it when he realised that you were already staring back at him, a small smile on your face. 

"Have you been starin’ at me all this fucken time?" he snarled. 

"Yep," you chirped. 

"You little-" Genya was about to say something but you jumped up, giggling, and ran towards the garden. 

As you both tumbled to the grass, laughter filled the air. You could feel the soft blades of grass tickling your skin as Genya playfully pinned you down, his weight making it impossible for you to move. You looked up at him, his chest heaving from the chase, his eyes burning with mischief. 

You playfully pouted, pretending to be upset that Genya had caught you, but your smile gave you away. 

Genya couldn't help but notice the pout on your lips, and his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and mouth. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should make a move, but before he could do anything, you took the initiative. 

You pulled him towards you and pressed your lips against his. 

He was frozen at first, hands grabbing chunks of grass in an attempt to restrict himself, but he couldn't resist your allure. You whispered his name, which undid him, and he responded by deepening the kiss. 

As the kiss broke, both of you were left breathless. Genya looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with emotion. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, while he pulled you onto his lap. 

For a few moments, both of you remained entranced in each other's presence, the world around you fading away as your hearts beat as one. 

[forestdeath1]

Sirius’s attitude towards Peter

This is going to be a bit controversial because in the fandom, it's commonly believed that Sirius loved Peter. People backs this up with two points:

Sirius suggested Peter as the Secret Keeper.

Sirius said he'd die for Peter.

In my view, their relationship was a bit more complicated than just "he loved him." Emotions aren't just about love and hate, there's a lot of grey area in between. But personally, I don't see any evidence that Sirius truly loved or respected Peter.

From what we know in the books, teachers saw Peter like this:

Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall.

For an observant and clever person like McGonagall, the group dynamics aren't a secret. It's exactly what people saw from the outside.

We know for sure that Peter visited the Potters, and Lily worried about him being sad, whereas there's no mention of Remus. In the Order of the Phoenix photo, Peter stands next to James, Lily and Sirius, while Remus is on the other end. So at least during the war, Peter was closer to the Potters than Remus.

Here's what JKR says about their relationship with Peter:

"Pettigrew, who they, in a slightly patronizing way, James and Sirius at least, who they allowed to hang round with them, it turned out that he was a better wizard than they knew. Turned out he was better at hiding secrets than they knew."

And it makes sense. Patronizing. They didn't intend to be friends with Peter at all, it was Remus who felt sorry for him and persuaded James and Sirius to include him.

Remus, always the underdog’s friend, was kind to short and rather slow Peter Pettigrew, a fellow Gryffindor, whom James and Sirius might not have thought worthy of their attention without Remus’s persuasion. Soon, these four became inseparable. (Pottermore)

And what we see in their relationship in reality:

Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. 

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’ 

Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned. 

Peter's behaviour:

Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face. 

How can someone like Sirius, who literally hates groveling ("I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself?"), respect and love someone who constantly grovels? Was Sirius blind not to see that? Everyone saw it. Remus simply pitied and was kind to Peter ("always the underdog’s friend"), and James loved Peter's adoration. James is the kind of person who really loves attention, and at the same time, he has a pretty black-and-white view of the world, and probably considered Peter a good guy, albeit one he could sometimes make fun of ('How thick are you, Wormtail?' said James impatiently. 'You run round with a werewolf once a month –')

But Sirius didn't need attention, he wasn't an attention-seeker. He could see pretty well who and what everyone was.

Many say that what Sirius says in PoA,he says it after many years of reflection in Azkaban and on emotions. I don’t think so:

‘Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggest- ed it,’ Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. ‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’ 

Sirius came up with a bluff. A plan where Voldemort was supposed to come after him, Sirius, not Peter. It wasn't just that Sirius trusted Peter. The point was that Voldemort would NOT come after Peter. Why was he so sure Voldemort wouldn't come after Peter?

Because first of all, I think Sirius really, as he said, believed that Voldemort would never pay attention to Peter. And secondly, Sirius was sure that Peter admired James too much and loved him too much to betray. The one who was always attached to them, the one who always looked up to James in admiration.

Sirius underestimated Peter's "bravery" and cunning.

‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us ... me and Remus ... and James ...’

He always saw that Peter was attached to them as "big friends," but Sirius, being arrogant, underestimated that besides them, Peter could have other "big friends." He was too convinced that Peter idolized James.

At the same time, it's pretty obvious why Sirius didn't trust Remus. He always respected Remus more, considered him smarter and more capable. He couldn't not trust James, James was everything to him, but Remus, who also often disappeared on missions, he could. This distrust shows not so much that they had bad relations, but rather that Sirius considered Remus a more capable and independent person, not just an appendage to James, like Peter.

So why were they considered inseparable and why did Sirius say he would die for Peter?

‘He – he was taking over everywhere!’ gasped Pettigrew. ‘Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?’ 

‘What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?’ said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. ‘Only innocent lives, Peter!’ 

‘You don’t understand!’ whined Pettigrew. ‘He would have killed me, Sirius!’ 

‘THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!’ roared Black. ‘DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’ 

Sirius has a very strong sense of honor. For him, dying for those he considers «ours» is a matter of honor. This is a nuance in his character — he may not particularly like or respect someone, but if they're "ours" he'll defend them (even someone like Mundungus).

He considered Peter their friend, he was with them from the first year, James loved Peter, Remus loved Peter, Peter helped in their mischiefs, and Sirius treated Peter okay, as a friend, but without much respect or some unearthly love that fandom usually portrays. He could see what Peter was like, and surely there were tense situations between them, but Sirius wasn't a bad person, and Peter knew how to play the helpless and miserable guy. It's like a patronizing friendship, where you're friends not because you really respect and love the person, but because they're in your group, and you're used to them. It was a childhood friendship. There was no sacred friendship. Children often start friendships simply because they end up in the same bedroom.

And Sirius isn't afraid of death. His death – it's not the worst thing for him. He tells Peter the same thing. Better to die than betray friends. That's his honor—he doesn't understand betrayal. The concept of honor isn't linked to love. For some reason, many think that a person can only decide to die for those they love. But some might choose death because their honor demands it. And if Sirius considered someone a friend, and he did consider Peter a friend, then dying for him is a normal reaction.

JKR on this: "Sirius would have done it. With all his faults and flaws, he has this profound sense of honor, ultimately, and he would rather have died honorably, as he would see it, than live with the dishonor and shame."

And Sirius would die not just for Peter. He told the twins about their father, who was on a mission: "You don't understand - there are things worth dying for!"

So, I don't see any evidence that Sirius truly loved and respected Peter. Did he consider him a friend? Yes, he did. Not personally his own, but their friend. James's friend first and foremost and an integral part of the Marauders. Would he die for him? Yes, of course. It's a matter of honor. But he always saw him as lesser than themselves, not as worthy, not as strong, not as smart, too cowardly, and sly. And it's precisely because of his arrogant attitude that he thought Voldemort would never pay attention to Peter, making Peter the perfect Secret Keeper. Also, in his opinion, Peter would never betray James precisely because Peter supposedly idolized James too much and loved him too much. But "it turned out that he was a better wizard than they knew. Turned out he was better at hiding secrets than they knew."

[chgridlock]

Fine. LN- pt 2.

Part. 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749224119672995840/fine-ln-series-1

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends au, Lando being a little dick

The torrential downpour caught me off guard, it was way worst now, transforming the picturesque cobblestone streets into a treacherous obstacle course. My flimsy jacket offered little protection against the relentless onslaught, and my heels sank precariously into the slick pavement with each step. I was a comical sight, a clumsy ballet dancer struggling against the elements.

Lando watched from the car, his initial annoyance replaced by a growing sense of unease. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt stab at his heart. Perhaps he had been too hard. Seeing you struggle, your once defiant stance replaced by a comical awkwardness, chipped away at his resolve.

He sighed, a heavy exhale that fogged up the windshield for a moment. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the car back into park, the engine sighing softly to a halt. The silence outside was broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain in the roof.

“Just get back in…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the downpour. I could sense the shame in his eyes, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before it was masked by his gruff demeanor.

I couldn’t help but scoff at his suggestion. “Oh, really?” I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm. With a flick of my damp hair, I sashayed past the car, the precariousness of my heel adding an element of defiance to my movements. “Who does he think he is for real…” I think to myself.

Lando watched me go, a wave of frustration washing over him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing hollowly in the car. “Damn it…” he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

“Can you just get back in the car?” He yelled, his voice laced with exasperation. “Do you have any idea how stubborn you are right now?” The rain blurred his vision as he looked out at my retreating figure, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him.

“You literally said ‘get out’” i retorted, my voice barely a whisper carried on the wind. I stopped, turning to face him, my posture stiff and defiant despite the rain cascading down my face. “It’s not my fault that you’re so-“

He cut me off, his voice rising in frustration. “I said ‘get out’ because you were being difficult…” he explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. But even to his own ears, they sounded hollow.

“Difficult?” I scoffed, the sound laced with a hurt that mirrored his own.

“It’s no my fault that you’re so stubborn and unreasonable that you’d rather walk in this heavy rain and get soaked to the bone than accept my help.”

I stood there, a defiant island in a sea of rain, my jacket clutched protectively around my shivering form. I met his gaze, a silent battle of wills playing out between us. The air crackled with unspoken emotions.

He glared at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger. His patience had worn thin, freaked by your defiance like a threadbare rope. Dealing with this felt like navigating a minefield, one wrong step and the whole thing would explode.

“Fine,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “Walk home alone in the rain. Be an idiot. Just know that I don’t care if you catch a chill or a fever.”

He revved the engine, the sound growling in the quiet street. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. But the satisfaction curdled quickly, replaced by something akin to worry again. How can you do this to him? You felt like a drug he can’t let go.

You stood there, a solitary figure dwarfed by the storm, your bravado slowly dissolving as the rain soaked through your clothes. Seeing you like that, shivering and defiant, chipped away at his resolve. He couldn’t understand why he care. He didn’t want to care.

But you irritated him so much, that the line between annoyance and concern became blurred. He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. Before he couldn’t think twice, he was out of the car, his boots splashing through the puddles separating you.

He approached you, his jaw clenched tight. He wanted to scream at you, to shake some sense into your stubborn head. But the anger simmered just below the surface, overshadowed by a strange protectiveness he couldn’t explain. He stood in front of you, towering over your rain-soaked form, the unspoken conflict swirling between you thick enough to touch.

“Can you please come in the car now?” He finally managed, his voice rough around the edges. A hint of exasperation lingered, but beneath it, a softer note resonated- concern. Your Lan. “Your clothes are all soaked. I’ll drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a command, albeit a reluctant one. You sighed, the sound heavy with a concession he wasn’t entirely sure he’d earned.

“Fine,” you mumbled, defeat lacing you voice. “Just because my feet are killing me.”

He rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance persisting despite the relief that washed over him. “Then come on”

He extended his hand towards you, a silent invitation. His voice remained gruff, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

“I can go alone,” you challenged, a hint of defiance clinging to your voice.

He rolled his eyes again, exasperation bubbling back up. “Don’t be stubborn. Take my goddamn hand.”

He barked the order, clearly annoyed. His anger, like a storm cloud, was threatening to engulf the fragile truce that had just been established. But the moment your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity sit through him, a forgotten memory come alive. Your touch, oh, how he’d missed it. Nothing in the world felt quite as right as the way your hand fit perfectly in his.

He gripped your hand tightly, the warmth seeping through your damp clothes, a silent reassurance in the midst of the storm. His eyes, however, remained stormy, reflecting the inner turmoil he refused to acknowledge. As he walked you back to the car, a grange protectiveness washed over him, a stark contrast to the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface.

He opened the car door with a flourish, a touch more dramatic than necessary. “Get in,” he mumbled, the gruffness in his voice a mask for the unexpected tenderness he felt. He gently guided you towards the passenger seat, his touch lingering just a moment too long before finally letting go.

Slipping into the car, you stole a glance at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. A tense silence, descended, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the steady hum of the engine.

Despite the anger radiating from him, you couldn’t but feel a flicker of a warmth blossom in your chest. The entire ordeal had been frustrating, a tempestuous dance that left you both breathless and bewildered. His irritation, however, was slowly morphing into something else, a concern he couldn’t quite disguise.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Finally, you felt compelled to break it. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t respond, his gaze unwavering on the road ahead. You knew he heard you, the slight twitch of his jaw a silent acknowledgement. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a tangled web of emotions caught between the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence, his voice cold and curt. “Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his words clipped. “I just did it so you wouldn’t complain about getting sick later.”

He fell silent again, the car an isolated bubble in the storm outside. But beneath the gruff exterior, a flicker of something more complex flickered in his eyes, a secret he wouldn’t share, not yet.

“Great,” I muttered, the sarcasm dripping from my voice like the rain from the car roof. He glanced at me again in the mirror, his jaw still clenched tight. His grip on the steering wheel was a white-knuckled testament to his simmering frustration.

“You don’t even feel the least bit guilty about how stubborn you were?” He scoffed.

“And you?” I shot back, anger flashing in my eyes. He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion clouding his features.

“Me? What about my stubbornness?” He genuinely didn’t seem to understand. How could his actions be construed as anything but helpful? The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, fueling his irritation. He wanted to yell, to unleash the torrent of emotions swirling within him, but the words wouldn’t come.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please,” I drawled, the dismissiveness in my tone adding fuel to the fire.

“Don’t ’oh please’ me,” he growled, he stole another glance at me, his expression morphing into a scornful glare.

Silence descended one more, thick and suffocating. He focused on the rain-slicked road ahead.

“Then you shouldn’t have helped me,” I said, my voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored his own.

The anger he’d been struggling to contain flared up, a hot member rekindled. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I shouldn’t have,” he conceded, the words laced it’s regret. “Now I just regret it because i was stupid enough to think you were sensible enough to realize that someone was trying just to help you…”

He refuses to look at me, the silence reminder of the tangled mess this whole ordeal had become.

“God, you’re so arrogant…” he muttered under his breath, his irritation spiking with every scoff and cold glance you threw his way. “You can’t even admit you were wrong and just stubborn as hell,” he pressed.

“Whatever,” you snapped, the frustration hanging heavily in the air. “Just get me home and that’s it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice tight with barely contained anger. The car fell silent one more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And, for the record…” he started after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous. He hesitated, weighting his words carefully. “I hope you catch a cold from the rain.” A childish taunt, but one laced with a deeper meaning.

“Touché..-idiot,” you countered, a sly smile playing on your lips despite your irritation. His words, though mean-spirited, held an undercurrent of concern that you couldn’t ignore.

“Shut up…” he mumbled, his annoyance flaring at your defiance. But beneath the anger, a flicker of relief sparked. He hated the way you got under his skin, the constant back and forth that drove him crazy, yet somehow, it was better than the suffocating silence.

He pulled the car to stop in front of your apartment building, the arrival a bittersweet relief. “Fine.” You spat, flinging open the car door and stepping out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk.

He watch you slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Part of him was glad to see you go, the tension within the car finally released. But another, deeper part, a part he refused to acknowledge, felt a pang of something akin to loneliness at your departure. He wanted to call you back, to follow you inside.

The urge to chase after you was a physical ache in his chest but his stubborn pride, a double-edged sword, wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. He watched you walk away, your figure growing smaller in the distance, his frown deepening with each step, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. You cast one final glance over your shoulder, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t decipher, and you left him alone, alone with the storm outside.

Author’s note: Tysm to everyone who liked the first part of the story. What do you guys think about these two childish idiots? More parts to come ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg (teaser)

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: TBD (at least 10k. unclear if this is a one-shot or not) Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff, more to be added Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, more to be added

Notes: I don't really know when I might be posting this. I'm still in the process of writing it, but it feels about halfwayish done, and I'm excited about it, so I wanted to share!

teaser under the cut

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were toddlers and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the jewel cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

I am very curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm so fucking excited to post. stupid grad school is getting in the way of me being able to devote 100% of my time to it, but god I'm trying so hard to get it done.

[s-4pphics]

moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered. 

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny. 

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw. 

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences. 

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor. 

“Rise.” 

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands. 

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.” 

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding. 

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.” 

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.” 

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…” 

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen. 

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.” 

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders. 

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate. 

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.” 

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame. 

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.” 

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.” 

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe. 

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.” 

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart. 

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal. 

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…” 

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer. 

“Child.” 

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below. 

“Someone’s special.” 

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge. 

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement. 

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one. 

“Why do you worry, Child?” 

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.” 

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns. 

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly. 

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch. 

“Why have you brought me here?” 

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock. 

“Do you know your history, Hunter?” 

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?” 

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.” 

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.” 

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive. 

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers. 

“What.” 

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!” 

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground. 

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…” 

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing against her nose.

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference. 

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.” 

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow. 

No one comes. 

-

-

-

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature. 

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness. 

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out. 

Your path is blind, but your end is near. 

All fingers point at you. 

The greatest form of betrayal. 

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch. 

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter. 

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?” 

Ellie scoffs at the pester. 

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy. 

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The raven-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels. 

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.” 

“Who am I to complain?” 

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers. 

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?” 

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear. 

“Our little flower is on the loose.” 

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.” 

“Where.” Ellie presses. 

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk. 

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards. 

“Absolutely.” 

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

[orshii]

Ready To Love

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x female reader

Word count: 5,1 k

Summary: Soonyoung, your best friend and soulmate, lived and breathed football until a devastating injury shattered his dreams. Unable to cope with the loss, he pushed everyone away, including you. Now, faced with the challenge of bringing back the friend you once knew, you must navigate through his pain and rediscover the bond that once held you together. Will you succeed in resurrecting the old Soonyoung, or will his journey lead him down a different path?

A/N: This is my first Seventeen ff lol. Well...yesterday as soon as I woke up, I just needed to write something with Hoshi LMAO. Cause recently he killed me, I love this hair on him sooo much. And his style?? Let's not talk about that...It's just a little drabble I needed to write out of myself, it's not a big deal tho. The story was inspired by Seventeen's Ready To Love ofc, cause I'm in love with that song istg. Okaay bye. (divider)

Life's journey resembles a roller-coaster ride, filled with unexpected twists and turns, but we shall never lose ourselves along the way, if you do, you remain alone with your toxic thoughts, that slowly eat the remaining life out of you. 

When the most important person in your life becomes the strangest person on Earth. My best friend couldn't stop the venom from spreading through his brain, poisoning it and making him believe he was nothing but a breeze of the dark autumn night. Soonyoung was a maximalist, football was his life it made him believe he was perfect, and that nothing could come his way.

But on a rainy game day, that promised a good future for him, he slipped on the wet green field and fell on the ground. Soonyoung's knee buckled beneath him as he slipped on the rain-soaked field, a sharp pain shooting through his leg, rendering him immobile amidst the downpour. Rain fell on his face in slow motion as he was screaming from the pain. That day was the end of the beginning of his career.

Since then, Soonyoung pushed everyone away from him who tried to approach him. Well, the ones he knew his whole life. His parents and me, I was his best friend. In past tense, because since the day of his injury, he did not want to talk to me. And the times when I tried to talk to him, he treated me like he didn't even know me. He looked down on me in front of his new troublemaker friends, making me feel like I was a clown trying to entertain them, whenever I tried to approach him at lunch breaks.

He has been my best friend since we were little. My parents introduced us when we were little to each other as Soonyoung's family lived opposite our house. Since that day we have been inseparable, we did everything together, even though we had different interests, him finding football as his lifesaver and me finding photography that helped me through difficult times of my life. We always adored each other's passion; he supported me whenever I wasn't sure if my photos were good enough. And I always attended his games to support and cheer for him, just be the first to congratulate him whenever they won.

Now that football wasn't there for him, he buried his cheerful past self deep down into his soul and a new careless Soonyoung came to the surface. He got into a new friend group, they were bad guys, and they always partied and got drunk whenever they had time. I couldn't recognize this Soonyoung, as neither did anyone who knew him before. He turned from a harmless hamster to a merciless tiger.

Our university’s football team had the last game of the year, everyone was excited and everyone attended to support their team. Except for one person and it was Soonyoung. The accident happened half a year ago and since Soonyoung isn't part of the team, they are bad, like really bad. They couldn't win a game; the team was falling apart without him. He was their fully trusted captain, who held the team together with his eagerness and his confident aura. Deep down I knew he was glad the team couldn't win without him, if he couldn't play then they deserved not to win.

The game was again a disaster as I watched it with my good friend, she was in the same major as me and we quickly became friends, photography connecting us. Watching the game everyone started to get bored, as winning the match was hopeless, they couldn't win, no matter how hard they tried.

They lost but that did not mean they couldn't throw a party for the sake of keeping the traditions. Everyone was invited, and it was held in a rich guy's house called Hongjoong, who was the new captain of the team, trying desperately to put the broken team's pieces together again. I kind of pitied him, because it was a very hard task breathing life to people who already lost hope. But he was known as a determined leader who would never disappoint his team, and it really seemed he was trying with his whole heart.

When we arrived at the party, my friend already got lost in the crowd as she was a real social butterfly, while I on the other side, liked the quieter places and fewer people. The living room was already full of students, most of them drunk, as they were dancing along to the loud music. Some random lights lighted the living room from time to time, for the sake of this seeming like a club. Through the sweating dancing bodies, I navigated myself to the kitchen to pour myself a drink. The furniture was all white and luxurious, I looked around as I searched for something to drink. I needed to relax a little, as recently I felt overwhelmed with everything I needed to do for the classes, project after project. I stayed up for nights, and on the days coffee was my only savior.

It was unhealthy, but Soonyoung wasn't the only one who got injured that day. Well, just theoretically, because my heart broke every time, I saw Soonyoung fall deeper into the dark and not let me in. It hurt because he was the only person in my life that understood me wholly. I tried to live without him, but it was hard. And seeing him laughing with his new friends made my heart fade into the dark.

"Woah, woah what did that whiskey do to you?" A strange voice brought me back to reality as I didn’t even realize I was pouring out the drink into a glass while I wandered off. I looked up just to meet with Hongjoong's sharp glaze, holding my wrist to stop me from pouring the drink that had already flown down to the kitchen counter.

"Oh—sorry, I got lost in my thoughts." I blushed in embarrassment, trying to find something I could clean the mess.

"It's okay, let me help you." He smiled at me and opened a cabinet to pull out a dry cloth to wipe the whiskey off.

I looked at him frowning. "How did you—", I hit my forehead as I realized this was his house.

He chuckled. "Yes, this is my house, I should know where my things are." He looked so adorable with his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head down to clean up the mess I made. He looked so decent, as he was wearing a casual beige pullover paired with blue jeans with cuts on its knees, a lot of accessories in his ears, and on his fingers. When he was on the football field on match days, he always yelled at his team like a lion, trying to keep together his team, but now he looked nothing like that he was just a sweet guy.

"I'm so sorry again for making a mess." I ran my fingers through my hair.

"It's okay it happens." He finished the cleaning and took my glass to pour half of it into an empty glass.

He reached my glass towards me and took the other to his hands. "Let's drink then."

I chuckled at the fact of how casual he was, after all, I was just a stranger to him. "Cheers!" we clinked our glasses together and downed the whole drink in one go. The both of us were making a face when we finished the drink, from the bitter taste and the burning feeling it left behind. We both started to giggle looking at each other's faces. 

Suddenly people streamed into the kitchen as we were laughing, one familiar guy in front looking straight into my eyes. I saw nothing from my past best friend. He looked completely different. His blonde hair which almost seemed like ash was hidden beneath a black cap that was turned backward. His ears were pierced, just as his eyebrows. He was wearing a black sweater, that was oversized, hiding his well-defined body, white crosses on its sleeves, that matched with his blue jeans, with black and white crosses on it. He was the total opposite of the old Soonyoung. He was glaring at me with sharp eyes, I saw a hint of disappointment evident. But I felt more of it, I just hated him with my whole heart.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Soonyoung clapped as he came closer to us in the kitchen.

"What are you doing here? You were not invited." Hongjoong stepped in front of me, hiding me from Soonyoung, preventing me from hunting me down.

Soonyoung laughed out loudly that sounded fake. "I thought everyone was invited to this party, Captain." He leaned down to Hongjoong, to be on the same height level as him. Their height difference was barely visible from the outside, but Soonyoung looked so intimidating it made the Captain look small. But he did not let it happen. He straightened up and stepped closer to Soonyoung grabbing his collar.

"Everyone is invited. Except you." Hongjoong hissed through his teeth. "Get the fuck out of here!" He raised his voice.

Soonyoung laughed again, sounding the same as before, there was no life in it. His eyes met with mine as he looked behind Hongjoong. His eyes on me made me freeze as if almost to death, it was so intimidating I just couldn't move. I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to beg for his old self to come back. But all I could do was look back at him with no emotions on my face. Slowly, I turned away, mirroring his detachment. I buried my emotions deep alongside his old self.

"What if I don't want to?" Soonyoung stepped even closer to Hongjoong and pushed him on the chest, Hongjoong's back hitting the fridge.

"Enough! Get the fuck out of here Soonyoung, you are not welcome here." I yelled at him suddenly, surprising him with my sudden impact.

His eyes rounded for a slight second in surprise, probably because I never called him Soonyoung, since we were kids, I always called him Hoshi, he asked me to call him like that when he found out what it meant, since he was obsessed with stars, he always adored them. For a second, I thought that's it, that is my Hoshi, he is still there. But his sharp glare was back in the blink of an eye.

"Are you in search of a new emotional support to replace me?" His question sounded full with disgust. I just couldn't believe this person was my best friend.

After half a year, he couldn't tell me anything else other than to humiliate me and I felt sick, I just never wanted to see him again.

I stepped closer to him, our faces inches apart, I tilted my head up to glare at him with zero emotions.

"There's nothing to replace." I said to him as I pushed him on the chest and fought my way through the crowd that assembled in the kitchen, people were always in for the drama.

Every year our neighborhood gathers together as we are close to the end of the year. We just celebrate the year at the end of autumn so we can say goodbye together to the year. This is the reason I am sitting in the house of our neighbor next to us, watching as the adults talk with each other, not like I am not an adult, but I just hate the shallow conversations where they ask about my life and what I want to do in the future. They had nothing to do with my life then why did they ask the same questions every year?

In the past, it was fun. At least Hoshi made it fun, as we always hid in the corners to judge the people and gossip about them. Now, I was sitting here all day on the couch with a glass of fine wine in my hand, and judging the people around me alone. I didn't see Hoshi all day, but I knew he was here somewhere hiding in the corners or who knows where. His parents were here and I knew they made him come along not accepting no as an answer, they were very strict if I may say.

The sun was already down and I felt so bored all day, I couldn't wait for the moment when they were distracted enough so I could slip out to be free. And that moment came quickly as I saw my parents were talking with a man and I quickly slipped outside through the backdoor.

When I closed the door and turned around, I froze. Hoshi was sitting on the top of the stairs leaning forward on his knees a glass of wine in his hands. He was staring up at the sky looking for the stars that were hidden between the dark clouds. I hesitated, I just wanted to get out of there, but seeing Hoshi like this…He seemed so—vulnerable in this moment and I kind of wanted to take advantage of it.

So, I slowly approached him and sat next to him on the cold stairs. As he felt my presence, he didn't even look at me, he just looked down at the glass in his hands, his features seemed full of regret and shame. I didn't want to be the first to say something. I tried to imply that I was there if he wanted to tell me something because I really deserved that. I took him in, while he was deep in his thoughts, he was wearing the same black cap turned backward, his ashy hair that grew down to his nape lolling out from the cap. He was dressed up in full black clothes, a sweater with black writings on its chest, and its sleeves decorated with white flowers, paired with black oversized pants and black sneakers. A cross was hanging from his neck that swung between him and the glass he was holding.

"Why are you here?" He breaks the silence, his voice unstable.

"Just wanted to escape from inside, it's boring." I hated him, but seeing him like this I couldn't be mean to him.

Hoshi just nodded still analyzing the glass in his hands.

"And you?" I asked looking at his sharp side profile, his cheekbones puffy like a hamster.

He shrugged. "My parents won't let me go home and it's boring without—" He stopped when he realized what he was about to say. He seemed angry at himself at that as I was observing him. He was drunk and, in this state, it felt like the old Hoshi was screaming at this person next to me to let him out of the prison he made. I knew my Hoshi was still there I just needed to somehow fight with this poisoned Hoshi.

"You know this shit is very boring without you. There's no one I could gossip with about Uncle Chanyeol's third wife." I said what he didn't finish and tried to lessen the sour mood a bit.

At that, he snapped his head up to look at me with surprised eyes. There he was, the Hoshi I loved so much. Many emotions went through his face as he took me in, finally looking into my eyes, finally seeing me after half a year.

"Well, the second was much uglier not gonna lie." He said looking back at the glass as he downed it until the last drops.

I hummed. "Not to be a bad person but he looks like a witch, who would curse you the second you stay alone with her."

And Hoshi laughed out wholeheartedly, that made my heart whole again. The sound of his laughter puzzled the pieces of my heart together. It made me realize how important he was in my life, and how much of an influence he was in my life. Everything he did affected me, even if it was good or bad, I felt the same way as him. I felt like he was my soulmate and if he was hurt I was hurt as well. It made me realize that I loved him so much not just as my best friend but as my soulmate. But after he pushed me, it faded. And I hoped it'd be gone in seconds, but as I heard him laugh again, made me realize it was never going to fade.

I smiled, hearing him laugh sincerely again, knowing it wasn't fake. Then as he realized what he was doing, his laughter faded into a smile and his smile faded into a thin line.

"You shouldn't speak to me." The sour Hoshi from moments ago had returned.

"Yeah…I shouldn't." I looked down at my hands fiddling with my rings taking in the sour emotions Hoshi was feeling.

"You know…" He broke the silence that fell on us, looking up at the sky. "…I always wanted to be perfect, and I truly believed I was, just until…" He looked down at his hands again as he tried to hold his tears back. I just listened to him, letting him speak whatever he wanted out of his heart.

"I'm so tired, I'm so tired of pretending everything is fine, Y/N." He buried his face into his hands, sobbing.

Tears started to appear immediately in my eyes seeing him like this. I scooted closer to him and hugged him, pulling him to my chest as he was still sobbing. "It fucked up everything— a-and I don't know what to do with my life anymore." He mumbled into the crock of my neck, wetting it with sour tears that made my heart break again.

"I know, I know it's hard Hoshi." I caressed his back up and down as I leaned my head on top of his, staring into the dark and chilly night. "There's life outside of football too. You can't just push away everyone you love, because some shit happened to your life. It's not fair and you know that."

He was quiet for a few moments, to take my words in and slowly lifted his head to look into my eyes. His eyes were red and puffy, his eyes barely visible, as the tears were still flowing down his puffy cheekbone, his lips trembling a little from the flow of emotions. "I-I know I fucked up and you have no idea how much I regret it. Pushing away my real friends and my parents. But mostly you, Y/N." One tear flew down his face again.

I slowly reached my hand towards his cheeks and cupped it just to wipe the sour tears away from his face. "I'm sorry for pushing you away…I really miss you, you being by my side all the time…" His eyes still stared deeply into mine.

I sighed, detaching my hands from his face, and letting it fall onto my lap. "I miss you too, Hoshi. But…you really treated me like shit, it hurt you know." I tried to blink away the tears that tried to escape.

"I know, I know, I was such an asshole, please forgive me.” He turned towards me.  “You really deserve better than that…" He said reaching for my hands, but along the way, he knocked over the glass that was between us. It made me realize he was just drunk and who knows tomorrow he is going to be the asshole Hoshi again.

I smiled at him sadly. "Go home Hoshi and sleep." I stood up and left him there without waiting for an answer.

Days later, it was already late at night when my phone rang just as I arrived home and parked my car, after a tiring day, as I was at classes all day and learning for the exams at the library. I sighed as I turned the engine off to pick up my phone, where the name of Hoshi's mother showed. I frowned as I picked it up.

"Y/N, darling, I'm glad you picked it up." Her voice seemed hurried and full of concern.

"Hi, what happened?" I asked her, leaving the formalities behind ages ago, as she treated me like I was her other daughter.

"I just wanted to ask, if you saw Hoshi today. We've been looking for him all day, but his phone is off and we don't know where he is." I heard as her voice got a little weaker.

"I saw him last night, but that's all, I'm sorry," I said looking down at my hands, running through the maze of my thoughts.

"Oh, okay, maybe it's better if I call the police, I am very concerned." Her voice deepened as she was thinking. "Anyways, thank you Y/N, I hope you are okay, we miss you." She wanted to hang up but I stopped her.

"Wait—, I might— I might know where he is, give me an hour and I'll find him," I said a little hurriedly as a place appeared in my head.

"Okay, thank you so much, Y/N." She seemed a little relieved at that.

I hung up the phone and quickly started the engine of my car, just to drive through the town to a place no one would search for Hoshi. And it was the football field. It sounds ridiculous but, why would anyone search for him there? When he didn’t step on that field since his injury happened?

When I arrived there, I still had doubts about him being at the field. But all my doubts disappeared when I saw him on the barely lit field, the moon above him shining at his presence. I approached the fence that separated us and just observed him as he was facing me, but he couldn't see me as the darkness hugged me around.

He was standing in the middle of the field the ball in his hands; he was wearing black shorts and a beige sweater on top the black cap never leaving his head. He squeezed it like he wanted to drown it like it could've helped make his misery better. Then he lifted his right hand in the air and threw the ball into the chilly air, his first intuition was to run after the ball, and he tried, but his knees buckled and he fell on the ground. My heart broke at the image of him breaking on the field of his dreams, I couldn't watch him suffer anymore. I stepped on the field slowly; he was still lying down with his face down and his shoulders were shaking. I walked towards the ball and took it in my hands. Then I walked towards him soundlessly.

"Hey!" I yelled at him while I was walking towards him. He snapped his head up at the sound. "Catch the ball!" I said not leaving him to think as I threw the ball towards him.

He quickly stood up, wincing from the pain, that his still unhealed, injury caused, and caught the ball.

"What are you doing here?" He tried to turn away from me, so I wouldn't see his face that screamed he was crying.

"The question is mine." I folded my arms together frowning at him.

He shrugged. "Needed to clear my head." He looked down at the ball and picked at some strings on it, not daring to look into my eyes.

"Your family is searching for you."

"I know." He spoke. "But I just wanted to get away from home."

"Why?"

"Because they want to control my life, and I can't stand it anymore." He turned away from me, looking up at the sky.

"Well, at least they are doing it, instead of you." I said stepping closer to him.

He suddenly threw the ball to the green grass with a wave of anger the ball almost bounced back to his hands.

"Hoshi, what is going on with you? It's not you." I said trying to stay calm.

"Well, you have to live with this, because this is me." He yelled at me turning towards me and pointing at himself.

My heart started to race, he kind of scared me. "No, it isn’t you, you changed." My voice got quieter as I stared down at the ground. Now I was the one not daring to look into his eyes.

"People change, and then what?" He lifted his arms in the air frowning.

"You act ridiculous, you know? You lost football and now you think you are a nobody?" I scoffed at him in disbelief.

"Football was the only thing that made me feel alive." He lifted his hands and turned around showing the field. "You can't fucking understand what am I going through." He pointed at me raising his voice.

I scoffed. "No, I really can't understand Hoshi." I looked deep into his eyes. "But I really tried to be by your side after your injury but you just threw me away just like that fucking ball.

 “I pointed at the ball in his hands. "I get it, I get that football was your life, but life sometimes sucks and you have to live with it, it can't be perfect…" My voice cracked as the emotions flew through me. "…nothing can be perfect Hoshi, neither can you…"

Tears started to appear in my eyes and I turned around. "You are on your own now." As soon as I turned tears flew down my face, and my heart broke into a million pieces again, but it was worse than everything beforehand because hope left my soul as well leaving nothing behind but dust.

I was near the fence where the exit was when I heard him.

"Y/N, wait!" He yelled after me, but I just closed him out.

All of a sudden all I could feel was that I was being pushed against the fence, which made a loud noise, as it echoed around us like bird chirping. His face was close to mine, his hands on both sides of my waist as he pushed me against the fence.

"Please listen to me." His voice was barely a whisper, that I felt on my lips.

I didn't say anything as I was too stunned being this close to him, his dark peachy scent hugged me around, making me feel woozy.

"I'm confused, okay?" His hands left my waist and he supported himself on the fence on both sides of my head. "It's…" He sighed and took off his cap with his right hand to run his fingers through his silver hair. This hair color fitted him so well, he changed but it was still him. He threw his cap on the ground now his hair falling into his eyes as he looked at me. "It's not just about football. It's about you Y/N."

My heart started to race quickly as I just looked at him with wide eyes.

He leaned closer. "The reason I pushed you away was because I wanted to be more than friends. And I knew you didn't want that." He leaned his forehead against mine. “I couldn't be friends with you anymore so I pushed you away before I fell in love with you more." His voice was low as he closed his eyes. "I was not ready for love, not when I knew you weren't as well." He whispered it and I barely could hear what he said.

"But," he continued not letting me say a word. "I realized I can’t live without you, because you are my escape from this fucked-up world and you are my purpose on this earth. I know that my life won't suck if you are by my side and that with your help, I can put my life together again." His voice crackled as tears formed in his eyes when he opened them again.

I was stunned to speak; I never could've imagined that Hoshi was thinking of me like that. But at the same, I was waiting for this moment my whole life.

"You are so stupid, Hoshi," I said the first thing that came to my mind after I gathered my thoughts. I reached my hands towards his swollen face and cupped it.

"I was in love with you my whole life," I said to him honestly.

His barely visible eyes rounded his mouth fell open, he looked so adorable. "Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not. Well, I'm sure it wasn't that deep when we were kids, but…since we grew up and started university together I fell in love with you deeper as the days passed Hoshi, and I couldn't help it." I looked down on the ground feeling shy as I just put my heart out in front of him. "My heart broke when you pushed me away…"

He slowly reached his hands towards my waist, squeezing it reassuringly, and leaned his forehead against mine. "I am so sorry, Y/n, for being so stupid, I won't ever forgive myself for treating you like that." He whispered onto my lips, his cold breath against mine, our cold breaths mixed just to melt into each other.

"You deserve the whole world, Y/N. And please let me give you the world, forgive me." He whispered the last few words, coming out like forgotten promises.

I smiled at him as if my eyes were sparkling from the happiness I felt. "Are you ready for love?"

He smiled fondly and looked at me like I was his whole world. "I'm ready for love. Can we stay together forever? I will give—"

"Just kiss me already you idiot." I interrupted him impatiently.

He chuckled and cupped my face, just to push me more into the fence that hurt my back, but not until one of his hands reached behind my back to pull me off the fence, body flesh against his. My lips curved into a sincere smile. I couldn't believe my soulmate had just confessed to me and promised me the world.

"You give me purpose." He whispered onto my lips like sweet promises and closed the distance between our parted lips. When his lisp met mine, the world stopped spinning, everything slowed down, the clocks stopped ticking, and the rivers stopped flowing. Everything stopped. It was just the two of us in this world, as he promised me the world, and with this kiss, he gave it to me. His lips moved against mine slowly, passionately, like he wanted to carve this moment into the history books, where two best friends went through ups and downs just like a roller-coaster, so in the end, they were finally ready to love each other wholeheartedly, staying together forever.

*Ateez masterlist*

[artbyblastweave]

There’s a thing that I see cape fanartists do sometimes which I have mixed-to-positive feelings on which I call “Nolanification-” essentially the process of pairing down the fantastical elements of a mainstream superhero to the greatest degree possible while keeping them recognizably a superhero in a superhero costume with superhero powers. An extension of what Nolan’s Batman and his villains looked like. You couldn’t do Fallout-mutant Killer Croc but you could do the circus-strongman-with-a-skin-condition version. You couldn’t do John-Carpenter Clayface but you can do abnormally-cartilaginous-skeleton-allowing for-an-incredible-range-of-facial-contortions Clayface. And so on and so forth. Anyway, a few months ago on Instagram I saw someone’s design for a Nolanified Venom- a version of Eddie Brock who had contracted an extraterrestrial fungal infection that, while still sentient and doing the whole shoulder-devil routine, only manifested physically as a serious discoloration of the veins and skin, providing “powers” in the form of a permanent adrenaline high, lessened pain sensitivity and other stuff in other stuff in that stereotypical PCP-berserker mold. Now on some level this is obviously a step down coolness-wise from protean goo-beast venom- that’s the point- but as a standalone concept for a street-level vigilante I think it’s really onto something. Power inseparable from your visible sickness. Something that you allowed to fester until it was strong enough to hurt someone besides yourself. Makes me think

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter One

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

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Masterlist

“Well don’t you two look like a couple of city slickers,” Meg teased two of her oldest friends. Javi, who always preferred to be half dressed was in khakis and a wrinkle-free polo, and Kate, who had never been much of a fashionista, was in a turtleneck and a button-down despite the heat of an Oklahoma summer. Meg was dressed in comfortable jeans and an old New Orleans EMS shirt with the sleeves cut off, her style being the only one that apparently hadn’t changed since college. The only thing new about her were the tattoos covering both her arms and her back.

“You’ve spent too much time in Louisiana, your accent’s startin’ to go sour,” Kate teased, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I missed you Mud Bug.” 

“Bite me, Katie my Lady.” Addy had always called them two shades of the same color, a dynamic duo, who had been inseparable from the first day of freshman orientation until their friend’s funerals. It felt like slotting two puzzle pieces together standing side by side again.

“Don’t I get any love?” Javi asked, mock offense filling his voice. Kate and Meg shared a look before each pinching one of Javi’s cheeks, making him wince. “Okay, okay,”

“We missed you too, Jav.” 

“A little bit,” Kate patted him on the cheek. Javi pulled both of the women in for a quick hug before pushing them towards the truck.

“Are you two ready to work your weather magic for me? If I’ve only got you two for a week, I don’t want to waste a second of it.” 

“We’re going to need two sweet teas before we work any magic, Kate’s been in the city far too long.”

“Two sweet teas, coming up. Now get in, get in, we’ve got two cells forming and my team’s waiting for us.” Kate took the passenger seat and Meg climbed into the back, relaxing into the leather upholstery. Javi and Kate kept casual conversation but the tension between the three of them was palpable. Meg sighed, pain in her wrist sparking up, it never used to get this quiet. 

Meg wasn’t paying attention at all when Javi introduced her and Kate to the Storm PAR team, getting weird vibes off of them. They reminded her of how her parents described Jonas’ Nightcrawler team from back in the day. What brought her attention back was the sounds of cheering, loud country music, and honking. Kate looked confused but Meg couldn’t help but smile, it was the Tornado Wranglers. Her dad was obsessed with the channel, watching all of their live streams. Sometimes the old crew would gather at the house and watch the live streams together, cheering and booing like it was a football game.

“Hey, Storm PAR, we’re live on YouTube, say something.” Meg waved at the camera, grinning as she felt her phone buzz, probably her dad having caught sight of her. 

“Blow me,” One of the Storm PAR guys shouted and Scott admonished him. Meg rolled her eyes at their antics, were they grown men or schoolchildren?

“Come on now, guys, science is fun,” Boone shouted as they drove off. Kate’s brows were scrunched in confusion,

“Who are they?”

“Chasers out of Arkansas,” Javi answered at the same time as Scott, who with a lot more venom denounced the group as hillbillies with a YouTube Channel. Meg glanced over at where the red truck was now swarmed with chasers, smiling at the whole situation. Tyler Owens was leaning out of the truck, shouting his silly little catchphrase to get the crowd riled up. Meg glanced at her phone,

Dad: You’re in Oklahoma?!?

Meg: Only for a week

Dad: With Kate and Javi???

Meg: I’ll call you later and explain

Dad: Get me a mug!!

Meg rolled her eyes, she would most certainly not be buying her dad a Tornado Wrangler mug, especially not in front of the entire Storm PAR team that seemed to hate them. Tyler looked over, catching Meg’s eye and tipping his hat. Meg stuck her tongue out, laughing and hoping she got picked up on Boone’s wide shot so that her dad would see her.

“That’s Tyler Owens, he calls himself a tornado wrangler.” 

“What does that even mean?” Kate scoffed like she didn’t used to call herself a tornado tamer on a regular basis. 

“Mean’s our world is going to shit,” Javi sighed. “Alright, let’s figure out which storm we’re going after. Kate, Meg?” He passed them Scott’s tablet. “What do y’all think?” Kate took it, studying it while Meg left her side, going to the open grass where she could stare up at the sky. It didn’t take long for Kate to join her, abandoning the tablet in favor of a dandelion. Meg leaned down, scooping up a handful of dirt. Different shades, same color, doing the same thing in different ways.

“Old school, I like it,” A southern drawl filled with humor called out behind them. Kate turned to look but Meg couldn’t take her blue eyes off of the sky, feeling the instability of the atmosphere in her bones. The storms brewing were pulling her mind in different directions but they couldn’t chase both. She took one last look towards the east and it didn’t feel right, there was no tingling in her fingertips or twist in her gut. It wasn’t the right cell. “Where did you ladies come from?”

“New York,” Kate answered. Meg brushed the dirt off her hands, glancing to the west, the familiar sensations of her undeniable instinct confirming her decision on which way to go. “Mud Mug, mind your manners,” Kate chided, pulling her out of her head. The cowboy was giving both of them an appraising look at Meg and had to admit, he was handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, obviously strong with the way his muscles filled out his flannel shirt. Maybe she would have to become a subscriber to his channel alongside her dad.

“Sorry, Sweetie Pie. Jav dragged me out here from New Orleans,” After five years, Meg spoke like a local, pronouncing the city with only one syllable. Kate chuckled, “Nice to meet you.” 

“Good to meet you ma’am. So, how are you liking working for Storm PAR?” There was something about the way he asked it that made Meg’s skin crawl like he was asking how she liked working for a sweatshop.

“Tyler!” A clean-cut British man with glasses came jogging up before Meg could question him. “Have you figured out which storm we’re going after?”

“Why don’t we ask-” He pointed between the women.

“Kate,”

“Meg.” Tyler grinned, eager for attention like a golden retriever. Meg smiled back, liking the feeling of his attention.

“I’m Tyler,” 

“And I’m Ben,” The man shook both their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m a reporter here to do a piece on American storm chasing. Tyler here has been kind enough to let me tag along.” Tyler patted Ben on the chest, still grinning like an idiot. Meg wondered if his cheeks ever hurt from smiling so much.

“All Ben here had to do was promise to write nothing but good things.” Kate caught Meg’s eyes, looking towards the sky. Meg nodded curtly, letting her know she was on the same page.

“Well, good luck with that,” Kate sassed, pulling Meg away. “West?” Kate whispered,

“100%,” Meg confirmed.

“Now hold on,” Tyler called out, stopping them in their tracks. He had his hands on his hips, playing the role of the unserious cowboy to a T, but his green eyes were studying them like precipitation charts. “Y’all didn’t say which storm we should be going after. The way I see it, west we double our chances, to the east it’s high-risk, high reward.” Was he testing them? Or was he really that bad at chasing?

“You best go for the reward, Sweetie Pie,” Meg kind of hoped he knew she was trying to play him. Kate caught onto her game quickly, 

“Don’t want Ben here to think you’re boring,” Kate traced a W onto Meg’s back, confirming her gut feeling. Tyler licked his lips, looking between the two of them with a pensive expression.

“Being boring is never an issue with me, Kate.” Kate huffed with laughter, mumbling I bet under her breath.

“The two to the west are fighting over the same inflow, they’ll choke each other out. The one to the east has the sky all to herself. Precipitation, wind shear, instability, she’s got everything you need to give Ben here a good show.” Damn, she was laying it on thick. 

“Don’t you feel it in your bones, Tyler?” Meg teased, turning on her heel. After a few steps she looked over her shoulder to see him watching them with a small smile, “And if you feel it, well, you know.” 

Meg’s dad would be fangirling knowing that she had just had a full conversation with Tyler Owens and she knew that if Tyler found out whose daughter she was, he’d be doing some fangirling of his own. Kate excitedly got Javi into the truck, telling him which storm to chase and he didn’t even hesitate to throw all Scott’s data aside to listen to her. 

Meg’s heart was pounding with excitement, it felt a little bit like old times as she slid into the back seat of the truck. Out of the window she caught sight of Ben and Tyler watching them, Ben looked confused but Tyler on the other hand was smiling. He must have known they had been playing him, which made Meg all the more excited, he was fun and hopefully could take a joke. When he caught her eye as they drove past, Meg made the tornado motion with her fingers and blew a kiss, grinning from ear to ear when Tyler doubled over with laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Mud Bug?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

Next Chapter

A/N: All three of the original tornado tamers needs a really long hug and a cup of hot cocoa. Meg's got her dad's instincts, her mom's need for adrenaline, and has probably made more progress on processing her emotions than Javi and Kate combined. Probably.

I don't plan on taking this story anywhere above a T rating but if there's interest, I might make a collection of post-canon one shots later on that include some smut. Who knows.

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