#is the way it collapses everything from ‘five minutes in the future’ to ‘five years in the future’ into one The Future

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

Am I aware that adderall can’t do its job if I don’t get enough sleep?

Have I utterly failed to make use of this knowledge?

Am I, an entire adult with a wife and a salary, hoping “you wouldn’t want to disappoint HP, would you?” is the thing that finally motivates me to go to bed before two in the morning?

The answers to these questions will probably not surprise you!

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS - J.M

Warnings: pregnancy, main character death, violence, blood, grief

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you loved Joel more than you had ever loved anyone else and when you were finally ready to start the rest of your lives together, the world collapsed

Wordcount: 4.1k

The alarm woke the two of you up that morning but he ignored it, tightening his arms around you as the two of you lay there in his bed.

"Alarm," the young girl called out, hand pounding on the door.

You didn't want to be taken out of the dream you had even though you knew that the morning sickness would wake you up any second.

You hadn't mentioned it to Joel yet but you'd checked and you were going to surprise him before he left for work for his birthday. You were 7weeks along and couldn't be happier.

You were snapped out of your thoughts of your future by Joel's groan as he pulled you tighter against him, "Five more minutes," he said, his voice gruff in your ear.

As you turned over and looked at your husband of two years, you thought of everything you'd done and been through. You were 5 years his junior and had met five years ago at a work event. You were a secretary at a work event he wa doing construction for and after spending the whole night staring at you, tommy had finally convinced him to ask you out.

Now as you lay here in his bed, looking up into his eyes, you knew that he had made the best decision. "Happy birthday handsome," you said and he pulled you closer to him, arms tightening around your waist.

He smirked, eyes opening to look at you as he spoke in his deep morning voice, “Do i get my present now?” He questioned, hand slipping down to pull on the bottom of his oversized shirt you were wearing.

You chuckled, pressing a hand against his chest as you pushed him away before sitting up in your share bed, “We have to make breakfast, Ill meet you downstairs,” you said, getting out of bed.

After getting changed, you walked down the stairs to the kitchen where you saw Sarah as she stood at the stove, cooking some eggs. As you walked past, you pressed a kiss to the girls temple as you went to grab a glass of water from the fridge.

Sarah had only been 7 when you started dating her dad and she love you from the second that you two met. She had never had a mother like any of the other girls at school had had but you were more than enough.

“You want any help lovey?” You asked as you saw the girl cooking the eggs.

Sarahs nose scrunched up in disgust, she loved your cooking but eggs was in no way your forte, “I’m good,” she said, trying to be polite as you sat down at the counter.

You looked over at the stairs when you heard a noise, watching as Joel walked into the room. He walked over to his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead before reaching for the coffee machine.

Sarah asked where the pancake mix was and her fathers face scrunched up in the same way Sarahs had earlier, they were more similar than they thought they were, "I don't like pancakes," he said.

"I know, but me and mum do," Sarah said, grinning at you. You would never get over her calling you that because it showed just how accepted you were in the little family. She turned to the fridge, pouring her father a glass of orange juice, "It's Vitamin C,"

He shook his head in disgust, sliding the juice over the counter. You smiled, picking it up and taking a sip as he drank his coffee. You picked the glass up as you both walked over to the table, watching as Sarah placed their food on the table.

"How old are you again?" Sarah asked teasingly.

"36," he said, taking a sip from his coffee. He had missed out on so much in his life but the only thing he wanted now was to grow old with his daughter and his wife, ready to live the rest of their lives together.

He was snapped out of his daydream when he heard the door open and and they all turned to him as he walked in, "Hey, still alive you old fucker," he said, grabbing a cup of coffee fron the pot, "You look cheery, you get some last night?"

"Course he did," Sarah said and Joel choked on his food, looking up at his 12 year old daughter, thinking about what she had just insinuated.

"Sarah!' The two adults exclaimed, looking over at her as Tommy laughed at the idea.

“At this rate, you two will have some evil mini mes running all over this house,” Tommy joked and Joel laughed at the concept.

Your face scrunched up as you looked over at him, brows furrowed at the idea that he didn’t want that with you, “Would that be so bad Joel?” You questioned and he looked at you, mimicking the same confused look.

He shrugs, looking at you with the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “No, I don’t think it would,’ he said.

The words sent a wave of relief through you and though you didnt want to mention it now, you were. You had the tests upstairs and the first scan that you had gotten the other day at the hospital to prove it. You smiled at him at the idea and his face sank, almost like he was going through all five stages of grief.

“Honey,” he said, his voice quiet as he looked at you, your smile growing every second that you looked at his shocked face, “Are you serious?”

The room was silent as they waited for your answer. Sarah had a huge grin on her face as she looked at you, the excitement of having a baby brother or sister bubbling up inside of her. Tommys eyes were wide as he looked over at the table, realising that he spoiled the surprise - you had mentioned it to him the other day as he had driven you to the hospital.

“Surprise,” you said, your voice quiet as you waited to gauge the reaction from the others, “I had this whole thing prepared for tonight Joel-“

You started to speak and he cut you off, pulling you into a kiss - he didn’t normally kiss you that much in front of Sarah so the act alone made it clear how happy he was. When he pulled away, his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he looked into your eyes, tears welling up in his.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He questioned again, trying to keep his emotion in as he looked at you. Sarahs mother had never stuck around but he knew that you would, he knew that you were everything he was looking for in a person.

You nodded your head and he kissed you again, one hand going down to rest on your stomach, “7 weeks,” you stated when you pulled away from the kiss.

Joel looked around the room, a huge smile on his face as he looked at his family, “We’re going to have a baby!” He exclaimed, repeating the sentiment as he looked at the others.

When he noticed Sarah had started crying, his face sunk as he wondered if she was unhappy about it, even though she was the one who had been begging for a little sibling since you two got married, “What’s wrong baby?” He asked and Sarah sniffled.

“I’m so happy,” she said, laughing in between the tears. He pressed a kiss against her forehead with a smile.

“Me too Sarah, me too,” he said, looking back at you. Nobody in the room had ever seen Joel miller smile that much before but right now, it looked like he would never stop.

“Congratulations you two, guess I get to be the fun uncle for another kiddo,” he said, a smile on his face.

The rest of the breakfast went smoothly, all of them talking about how exciting it was going to be, what they were going to name the baby, how they were going to paint the nursery but all good things must come to an end. Joel left for the day to pull a double shift at the construction yard and you drove to work.

You were laying on the sofa, fast asleep, when you heard a noise coming from outside. When you finally fully woke up, you checked the time and noticed the sound of helicopters flying overhead.

You started to panic and pulled a jacket on as you rushed to Sarah’s room, you bag slung on your back. When you noicted that she wasnt in bed, you rushed outside, screaming her name.

That’s when you saw Joel’s truck rushing down the street - he had gone out to pick tommy up from jail after an incident - and when the car parked, he jumped outside.

“Where’s Sarah?” He asked, looked around, a wrench in his hand as he walked over.

Just as he said that, she ran out of the Adlers house, the girl running into your arms as you tried to protect her from whatever it was that Joel was scared of.

Nana Adler started crawling out of the house and anyone could tell that the three adults were scared and unsure what to do. You didnt even know what was going on but with Tommy standing there, a shotgun in his hand, you knew that something was wrong.

"What are we doing Joel?" Tommy asked, his voice loud as he pointed the shotgun at the old lady. She seemed sick, her face morphing into something horrid as she scrambled towards them.

When she got closer, Joel did the only thing he could think about doing to protect his family, he hit her over the head. He had to kill the elderly woman because if he didnt, then there was any chance that she could kill his family.

You gasped, pulling Sarah’s face into your body in an attempt to make sure that she didn’t have to watch her elderly neighbour being bludgeoned to death by Joel.

"He killed her," Sarah whispered into your chest and Joel came over to the two girls, knowing that you both deserved answers.

When he looked into your eyes, he could see that you were scared and confused and he felt bad that this was happening to you now. You two were just about to start your family and now you were being flung head first into an apocalypse that you had no idea about.

When his daughter looked up at him, he noticed the look of pure fear in her eyes - she had never looked at him like that before and he could feel the guilt sinking in his stomach "It's not just the Adlers but we're gonna be brave,"

You nodded and he grabbed your hand, checking on the both of you quickly. You watched Sarah get into the car and he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You okay baby girl?” He asked and you nodded, “We’re going to make it through this, all of us,”

You got into the car, sitting down next to Sarah when you noticed that the other two Adlers were rushing towards the car - they were infected, "Get your seatbelt on!" Joel yelled out and the two girls did.

"I'm scared," Sarah said as she looked up at you. You didnt know how to reassure the girl, you didnt even know what was going on. All you could think about was your family, your baby. You looked down at the bag that you had carried out; inside was the present for Joel, the sonogram.

“What’s going on boys?” You asked, trying to hide the shake in your voice as you looked out of the window as they sped through the streets.

Tommy shook his head in the front from where they were sitting, "They're saying its a virus. Some sort of parasite," he explained, looking back at them.

Sarah let out a shaky sigh, "Are we sick?" She questioned, eyes wide as she looked over at you.

You took her hand in yours, "Course not," you said as you tried to comfort her on a subject that you knew nothing about. You could all be sick for all that you knew but you had to make sure she wasnt too worried

"How do you know? How do you know we're not sick?" She questioned an you could hear the fear in her voice.

The girl had been so excited this morning, she had picked out baby names that she wanted and was preparing for the rest of her life as a big sister. Now she was preparing to potentially die.

Joel turned back and looked at the two of you, "They're saying it people in the city, that's why they got the highway blocked off," he explained and you nodded, unsure what that meant.

He hated seeing his daughter like that, so upset and scared, but he knew that you would look after her and that you were going to be okay. He didnt know how this morning he had recieved the greatest news in his life and now he was sitting here, planning on runnning away to save his family.

As they drove through the streets, Tommy looked in horror at a house on fire in a field, "God. That's Jimmy's place," he said, almost like he finally realised the extent of all of it. It was surreal as they heard the sirens on the streets and prepared for the end of the world as they knew it.

"The Adlers would take nana into the city," Sarah said almost absentmindedly suddenly. You nodded, listening to Joel reassure her that that must be how they got As they drove onto the highway, Joel swore as he looked at all of the other trucks lining up in an attempt to escape the hell, "Everyone had the same fucking idea," Tommy said.

He was just as scared as you and Joel were. This was his family too, but he had to put on a brave face.

"Take the field, we'll pick it up on the west side," you suggested, and Tommy nodded, the car jolting back and forth as they drove across the grass.

When they were driving through, Tommy stopped aburpty when he noticed that the entire military was lining the highway that they were trying to get to, "The fucking army," Tommy said.

"Keep moving, head north," Joel said and you could hear the panic in his voice as he starts to yell, explaining that there was nowhere else that they could go, "Tommy, come on,"

He would do anything for his family, especially now, "Where do we go?" You questioned, not knowing what they were going to do now. You werent even write sure what really was going on but also, nobody else seemed to know either.

"We go as far as we go, I don't know, Mexico," he said, shaking his head as he tried to save the family that he had spent so long building, "Go to the river, get across. Pick up the highway and then we're out,"

As he looked back at you and Sarah, you whispering to the girl to try to keep her calm, one hadn on her shoulder and one on your stomach, he wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and destroy whoever had done this to his family.

"Maybe its everywhere, maybe there's nowhere to go," Sarah said, trying to stay strong for everyone else but you could tell that her voice was breaking.

"We will be fine sweetheart," you said, reaching down and grabbing the girls hand, “You’re a strong girl and you’re going to make it, we all are,”

You were absolutely terrified for your family, for your baby but you couldn’t let it show for Sarahs sake. You had never had a good family life and now that you had this one, you couldn’t bear to lose it.

They started to drive through town, the four of them horrified ad they looked at the crowds of people. Some people were running for safety and some were chewing on other people.

Tommys eyes were wide as he stared into the distance, "I can't drive through them," he said, his hand shaking on the wheel.

"Keep going," Joel yelled out, all of his protective instincts bubbling up. There was no part of Joel that would ever let anything happen his family, to his brother, to his daughter, his wife and his unborn child and he knew that he would kill people to protect them if he had to.

All of a sudden, a large crowd started to emerge in the distance and they realised that there was something going on over there, probably more infected people. There was no way they'd make it through.

"Back!" Joel exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly "Tommy go faster, mow the fuck over them,

"Joel!" You yelled out and he turned to look in the front window when he noticed that a plane was crashing down and was going to land in their direction - it was going to kill them all.

Your head was a blurry for a second as you crashed and when you woke up, you were upside down and Joel was reaching through the car to grab you. You winced as he pulled you out.

He pulled you into his lap, whispering your name under his breath as he checked to make sure you were alright. His heart was pounding as he looked over at the other side of the car where Sarah and Tommy were standing.

For a second there, when you weren't responding, his entire life flashed before him and he couldn't bare to think about what life without you would even look like. He might as well be dead if you were.

“Dad? Are you and mom okay?” The girl called out from the other side of the car, holding onto her uncle.

"She's fine, you're fine, aren't you baby," he asked, hands coming up to her face and she nodded, looking in his eyes like it would be the last time.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head, "My ankle hurts, but I'll be fine," you said and he helped you stand.

Just as you were about to make your way around to check on Sarah and tommy, another car crashed into theirs, blocking the way around, "Head to the River, we'll find a way," Tommy said, knowing there was no way round.

“Let’s go babygirl,” Joel said, wrapping his arm around her as they started running. When they made it into an alleyway, they started running at the sight of one of the infected behind them. They started running as fast as they could, legs carrying them into an abandoned field at the back.

Just as you thought that you weren't going to make it through, the infected man was shot and you and Joel both looked over to see a man from the State police standing in the field.

Joel wrapped his arm round your waist, your ankle had gotten worse from all that running and he could hear you wincing as he walked over to the man.

“Help us, my wife, she’s hurt her ankle,” he said and the man was hesitating, hand on his gun, “She’s pregnant, please,”

You both stood there for a second, not knowing what the man was going to do or say. You looked up at Joel, looking into his deep brown eyes for wht you wondered may be the last time.

The man picked up his radio, “we have two civilians, a man and his injured wife, she’s pregnant,” the man said.

They couldn’t hear what the man said though the radio after that but when he received his orders, he held up his gun and you both knew that this was not going to end well.

“Please, we’re not sick, we’re not sick,” he repeated almost begging the man and when he heard the bullet fire, he did the only thing that he could think of doing, he turned his body around to shied you but it was too late.

When he opened his eyes, he looked up at the man who had the gun still pointed at you. The man never shot again and Joel flinched when he heard a gunshot. When he looked at him, the man was falling to the ground and Tommy was standing there with the shotgun in his hand.

The first thing he heard was Sarah’s scream and then he turned to see you laying there. He crawled over to you, tears in his eyes as he looked at the bullet wounds all in your stomach and chest. There was no way you were going to make it.

“Babygirl, babygirl, come on,” he said and when he tried to move you, you screamed. He pulled you into his lap, tears in his eyes as he held his hand to your abdomen in an attempt to save you somehow.

“Joel, Joel, it hurts,” you said through gritted teeth. It was like someone was pulling at you, peeling your skin off completley. You don’t know how you could bear it any longer so you closed your eyes.

“Look at me honey, don’t do this to me,” he said, listening to your sobs. He turned back, tears in his eyes as he looked at Tommy and Sarah, the latter of which had tears streaming down her cheeks, “Don’t let her see, dont let her look,”

He pressed his hand against your wounds desperately no matter how loud you screamed. He was watching his future slip away from him in those last seconds and you closed your eyes, sobs getting quieter.

“Stay with me baby, come on, come on,” he repeated over and over again and you opened your eyes, looking into his eyes.

“It hurts Joel,” you whispered, “The baby Joel, my baby,”

You let out a scream as he pressed his jacket to your stomach in any attempt to save you. He wasnt going to sit idlely and wait, “We’re going to make it darling, just stay with me,”

“I’m cold Joel,” you said, a chuckle escaping you as you closed your eyes, “Its so cliche, I’m cold baby,”

He let the tears flowed down his cheeks and your eyes fluttered open, focusing on him. You thought back to the first time you looked into his deep brown eyes from across the room and wished you could go back there. As the world slipped away, his hand in yours, you let his face ground you.

He let out a guttural scream as he pulled you into his arms, feeling your body go limo against him. Joel couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He had failed at the only thing he had ever promised you to do. He had failed to look after you.

Even tommy closed his eyes as he watched his brother lose the only woman he ever really loved. He couldn’t watch, he could listen to the sobs from his niece and the screams from his brother as he tried to hold onto any piece of you that he could.

Joels eyes opened when he heard something flutter to the ground and he looked at a crumpled up sonogram that had fallen from your pocket. The pad of his thumb wiped the blood off of it, your blood, as he looked at what could have been his future.

He had lost almost everything in one moment, his unborn child, his wife and the only woman he had ever truly loved. His hand came down to your stomach, hands stained with blood now as he kept trying.

He let out one more visceral scream as he held your body to his. He wasn’t ready to let go and he never would.

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I've been focusing on my uni work and getting little bits done here and there. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this one--and thank you all so much for the support and the kind words, I really appreciate it <3

CW/TW: Suggestive themes, slightly steamy solo scene, strong language, a small instance of implied racism and homophobia - this is purely a character choice and is in no way reflective of the author.

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Nate’s legs crossed lazily at the ankles as the hum of her laptop filled the quiet space of her bedroom. The early morning light spilled through cracks in the curtains hung over the large windows of her Tribeca penthouse, warming the cold memories she was digging through.

“Hold still, darling.”

On the screen, her mother appeared, laughing as she held a much younger Nate in her arms, spinning her around in a backyard that looked too sunny to be real. Little Nate, all of maybe four or five years old, giggled uncontrollably as the camera shook, trying to capture a still frame of mother and daughter in that carefree moment.

“I can’t! I’m flying!” young Nate squealed, her small arms stretched wide as if she could take off into the sky.

Irina laughed, the sound rich and vibrant, the kind of laugh that made you feel safe just hearing it. “Well, you keep flapping those wings and you might just end up on the moon.”

Nate felt her chest tighten. Her mother’s voice had always done that—made everything seem… okay. She paused the video, staring at the frozen image on the screen. It was one of the few videos she’d managed to save. There had been more at one point in time, but… well, Dimitri eventually took over what was worth saving, and what should be disposed of. 

She hit play again, unable to stop herself from diving back into that world, if only for a few more minutes.

In the next clip, Irina was sitting cross-legged in the grass, wearing a simple sundress, her hair tied up in a loose bun that still managed to look graceful. She was looking at the camera, a faint smile on her lips, but there was a hint of severity in her eyes.

“Come here, Nate,” she said, motioning to the camera, which was now clearly in the hands of Dimitri, who was behind the lens, chuckling deeply.

A smaller, more rambunctious version of Nate ran into frame, throwing herself into her mother’s arms. She could almost feel the warmth, the softness of the embrace even now.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Irina asked, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s plaited, deep brown hair.

Little Nate tilted her head innocently, her brow furrowed with the weight of such a question. “I dunno… A superhero.”

Irina smiled, nodding in approval. “That sounds about right.”

Nate couldn’t help but smile bitterly at that now, laying there alone. A superhero. If only she had known then that the world didn’t make heroes. It made survivors. And her mother wouldn’t be one of them.

She shut the laptop, the screen snapping to black, but the images were already burned into her brain. Every detail of her mother’s face, her smile, the way she held her… Nate remembered it all too vividly. Too painfully. It had been almost nine years since Irina’s death, and still, there were days when she could barely breathe from the sheer memory of it. Watching her lifeless body collapsing to the ground in the middle of the street. How it felt like no matter how loudly she screamed for someone to help, it didn’t seem loud enough. The way her blood-soaked clothes stuck to her skin after holding her own mother’s corpse against her as she waited for an ambulance.

How… quickly it all happened.

But today, the weight was a little different. Lighter, somehow. She knew why, but refused to admit it, even to herself. Roman was supposed to show up around eleven, and for some fucking reason, the thought of it made her stomach flutter like a nervous teenager. She hated it. And she hated him. Hated that she continued to relive the night in the safehouse in the form of dreams. 

More than anything, she hated herself for allowing her resolve to break so easily. She put it down to the adrenaline and the intense pain in her leg as he literally took care of it. It had been so long since somebody took the time to focus on her, even if it was out of necessity.

And now, as she laid in her bed, all she wanted to do was to pretend none of it mattered. To pretend that Roman showing up in a couple of hours didn’t make her heart race in a way it absolutely shouldn’t. That he wasn’t the only thing that inspired any type of excitement, albeit temporary, in her otherwise monotonous, damned excuse of a life. He had become… a distraction, maybe. Or just a reminder that things were spiralling out of control faster than she’d like to admit.

“Fucking pathetic,” she muttered to herself, pushing the laptop to the side and sitting up, running a hand through her tousled hair. She needed to get her shit together before Roman arrived. Glancing at the clock, it was still a couple of hours to go—enough time to remind herself why she hated him.

Shower, Nate. Get in the shower.

The steam from the hot shower already started soothing her tense muscles as she pulled off the shirt she wore for bed. The mirror fogged up, but not enough so that she didn’t catch a glimpse of the patch of gauze taped to her thigh—a reminder of the ambush, and once again… Fuck off.

It wasn’t like she could forget, even if she tried. The raw, animalistic moment they shared… it was never something she’d been very good at controlling. She just never thought she’d be in that scenario with someone like Roman.

She ran her fingers along the wound as she stepped under the hot spray of the water, letting it cascade over her body. The heat wasn’t enough to distract her from the images playing in her head—Roman’s hands, his breath hot against her neck, the tension that had built between them until it snapped like a rubber band.

Her fingers pressed against her skin harder, her breathing uneven as she leaned her forehead against the cool tile. Roman this, Roman that… Goddamn it. She cursed under her breath, her thoughts a tangled mess. And before she knew it, the heat from the shower could barely compete with the heat building inside her body.

Her hand moved on instinct, sliding lower, the need to release the tension growing unbearable. She wasn’t thinking straight—wasn’t thinking at all, really. It wasn’t about him… at least, that’s what she told herself. Just a way to get him out of her head, to clear her mind. 

But that was a boldfaced lie.

She could almost feel him there, feel his dark gaze, looking at her like she was some kind of challenge he had to take on. Her fingers slipped smoothly between her legs, embarrassed at the slick that coated them immediately.

Fuck you, Roman.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut the whole time, even as she slipped two of her fingers inside of herself—it was nothing compared to his fingers, his cock. Her hips gyrated against her own hand, giving her a taste of what he had given her. Her moans were broken, shameful. But she moved faster, harder, chasing the release she knew she needed. And when it came, it was swift, like a bolt of lightning through her core, leaving her gasping for air under the shower’s unrelenting stream.

She stood there for a moment, thighs clasped around her wrist, letting the water wash away whatever it could—though it was never enough. Roman still lingered in her mind, still twisted around her thoughts like a vice. But for now, she could at least push him to the side. She had things to do today, things that didn’t involve him. Well… not just him.

Stepping out of the shower, Nate wrapped a towel around herself and walked back into her bedroom, her hair dripping wet, leaving tiny droplets of water on the hardwood floor. Her eyes drifted to the red dress hanging on the back of her wardrobe, the sight eliciting a small sigh.

It was beautiful, the kind of dress that demanded you stop and look at the occupant. Sleek, fitted, with a neckline that plunged just enough to make it feel dangerous. But it didn’t bring her any joy. Quite the opposite. The reminder of what the dress was for made her stomach twist in knots. It might make her look like a million bucks, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel that way.

She’d deal with that when it came to it; for now, she had to focus on Roman’s visit and how integral it would be.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman: I’m here. Same place as last time.

Nate checked the text at least three times before she finally moved to throw on her jacket. She didn’t want to seem like she was waiting at the door like a lost puppy for him to arrive; she had to leave a little… mystique. Can’t have him thinking she has no life, now, can we?

She made the decision to take the stairs instead of the elevator—better to avoid unnecessary attention. Plus, it gave her a moment to calm the fuck down. Aside from the fact that Roman was coming over again, something that really wasn’t that big of a deal in the long run, she was ultimately concerned about the flag on the back of the attacker’s car. 

And having to recite history to Roman Reigns was like submitting an essay in high school; you’ll second guess yourself over and over again until he finally shows any kind of interest in what you’re saying.

As she exited the building, the brisk air hit her, sharp and cool. She was grateful for her impulsive session of blasting the likes of DJ Blyatman through her stereo set-up, as bass-heavy beats still echoed in her ears, vibrating along her nerves in a way that soothed them.

She found Roman leaning against the wall down the side alley, hidden enough to avoid being seen from the main street. He was alone, no car in sight. Solo wasn’t even standing watching from a distance, like he always seemed to be.

He turned his head at the sound of the metal door opening, instantly shifting in her direction. Hood up, beanie on, he looked as casual as ever, but his energy was potent as always, like he was never truly off guard.

“Head down,” she reminded him through a mutter as he reached her, throwing a glance down the alley to check their surroundings. “Like last time. Don’t need people noticing you waltzing into the building.”

“You worry too much.”

Nate rolled her eyes, biting back a sarcastic retort. “I don’t worry, I plan. There’s a difference, Reigns.”

She turned on her heel, leading him down the same corridor she had used before. Roman followed in step, his imposing shadow filling the space. Heavy. Commanding. Every inch of her was aware of him just centimetres behind.

“You’re lucky it’s quiet right now,” she commented. “But don’t get too comfortable,” she looked over her shoulder at him. “I still don’t trust you walking around here without drawing eyes.”

Roman’s low chuckle was barely audible. “You cute when you boss me around, Princess.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

But her pulse quickened anyway. Fuck him. The last thing she needed was Roman mockingly charming her—again—especially today. 

Nate opened the door to her apartment, motioning for Roman to step inside, to which he moved past her without hesitation, eyes scanning the space as if he were still on guard, even here. She wasn’t surprised—Roman was always switched on, always reading the room.

“Make yourself at home,” she muttered sarcastically as she shut the door, rolling her eyes when he didn’t even acknowledge the invitation. Instead, he went straight for the window, glancing down at the street below like he was expecting trouble.

“You’re still paranoid, I see,” Nate sighed, tossing her jacket onto a nearby chair.

Roman’s attention didn’t waver from his scan of the surroundings, but he finally spoke. “You never know when it’s gonna hit, right?” 

“You’ve got twenty minutes. After that, I might just kick you out,” Nate said flatly, and only half-joking.

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, unbothered as ever. “Twenty minutes? Thought you’d be a bit more grateful, Princess, considering I dragged my ass all the way from Florida for this.”

She ignored his cocky grin, sighing as she walked toward the kitchen counter. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly beg you to come.”

“Right. You didn’t beg. Just sent me a text all urgent-like.” Roman watched her, amused as she poured herself a drink. She took a sip, not bothering to hide the glare she shot him.

“Are you going to shut up so we can talk about what I brought you here for?”

“I’m all ears,” he replied, settling down into a chair, his frame stretching the fabric of his shirt as he watched her with that unreadable face.

She pushed off the counter, evenly—calmly—breaking the ice.

“It was the Irish.”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The flag on the back of that car… It was small, but I saw it.”

“What the hell would they want from us? We never had a problem with ‘em.”

“Because they don’t have a problem with your family,” Nate said, starting to steadily pace the room now, the knot in her stomach tightening. “Their issue is with mine. And if they hit the warehouse last month, if they killed Priest and took the shipment… then it’s retaliation.”

Roman’s confusion deepend, and he took a step closer. “Retaliation? For what?”

Nate hesitated, her hands balling into fists as she forced herself to breathe evenly. She hadn’t wanted to get into this with Roman, but now she had no choice. She stopped pacing and finally looked up at him. “It’s… complicated.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out, Nate. Complicated doesn’t cut it. What the hell did your family do to piss off the Irish?”

Her throat felt dry, and she glanced away for a moment before answering. “You know Madame X?” He gave her a short nod. “It used to belong to the Irish,” she continued. “Aidan Lynch ran it. I knew his daughter. We trained together for a while—sparred, hung out.” She swallowed, casting her mind back, trying her best to conjure up the memories as vividly as she could. “New Year’s, 2014, my dad and Aidan were having… issues. Nothing too serious, or so I thought,” she huffed, a wry smirk on her lips. “My friend and I decided to have a night out at X. Long story short, we get kicked out. Officially, it was because I was only 18. Unofficially, though? It was because of whatever the hell was going on between my dad and the Irish.”

Roman was listening intently now, the previous crumb of frustration shifting. “And then?”

“Then… things escalated.” Nate paused, carrying her glass of water between her fingertips. “Threats were made. I didn’t know all the details at the time. But then they just… disappeared. They pulled out. And dad took over most of the shares of X.”

Roman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Still don’t explain why they’d hit you now, eight years down the line. I mean, what are they holdin’ onto?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know for sure, but… I think… I think my dad might have done something. Something bad enough to make Aidan walk away. Maybe he scared him, maybe it was something else—but they always had ways of messing with us over the years. Little breadcrumbs, threats, reminders that they were still out there, waiting. Now? I don’t know, it just makes sense.”

He was silent for a moment, absorbing the information, brows furrowing as he considered it. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, then asked, “And you think this is significant to the warehouse because…?”

Nate looked straight at him, her face tight with worry. “Because if the Irish are here. If they’re back. If they had no problem taking out Damian Priest, if they had no problem getting rid of Bunny’s men… That means they’ll have no problem taking out The Bloodline. You. And if they have no problem taking out The Bloodline…” she paused, licking her lips as the pieces meshed together the more she spoke, “Then I know they’ll have no fucking problem taking out my family.”

Roman opened his mouth to continue, but Nate couldn’t be interrupted now. Her knuckles were whitening ever so slightly by the grip she had on the glass in her hand.

“-And I’m not letting them bastards touch my family as long as I’m alive, I need you to understand that, Roman. My sister doesn’t n-need to be involved in any of this, and if I can’t do something about it, if I can’t protect my baby sister, then what the fuck am I here for? What the fuck else am I supposed to do with my life?” She exhaled, downing the rest of the water and placing the empty glass on the kitchen counter. Luckily, she managed to reel in her emotions before she completely broke down in front of Roman; that would definitely be the most embarrassing show of weakness.

But he just sat there, threading his fingers together, eyes locked onto the hardwood floor. It was clear he’d been listening, and he was just trying to figure out what the fuck to do now. He’d never really had a run-in with the Irish, so knew next to nothing about how they worked. Ignorantly, he never thought to look into them, since—like Nate said—they’d not been around.

So now, he and his enemy’s daughter find themselves in a situation where they’ve been attacked by someone Roman knows nothing about—people who are now at the top of their list of people who may be responsible for stealing both families’ shipment of weapons.

“So what’s next?” he mumbled, begrudgingly accepting that he actually needed Nate more than ever. She held all the power now. And it didn’t sit well with him; he wasn't accustomed to relinquishing power. 

Nate did actually have an idea. It was far-out, uncertain, and borderline dangerous. But when all was said and done, she was literally having a conversation with Roman Reigns in her own apartment; danger didn’t seem to be much of a holdback anymore.

“There is one thing…” she said, folding her arms and bringing her hand up to absentmindedly rub her chin. “There’s someone I could get in touch with…. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

Roman stood, face contorting. “You sure you wanna bring someone else into this?”

Nate shrugged. “You got a better idea?” she snapped.

“Jesus, you ask one question…” Roman huffed, shaking his head, before stopping to study her demeanour for a moment. He had a tendency to let silence sit heavy in the air, knowing it made people squirm—but not Nate. She held her ground, meeting his gaze without blinking, like she was daring him to challenge her.

Finally, he let out a heavy exhale. “Alright,” he grumbled. “Let’s do it your way. But you’re gonna have to be the one to tell the rest of ‘em back at my place. Ain’t no way I’m takin’ that heat for bringin’ someone else in.”

Nate didn’t flinch, though there was a brief flicker in her eyes. She nodded, though Roman didn’t know exactly who she was planning to contact. “Fine. I’ll tell them. But if they give me any shit, you better back me up,” she warned defensively, but he didn’t seem to take the bait. He just gave her one of his signature smirks.

“We’ll see about that.”

Before the moment got too tense, Roman stretched his arms out and rolled his shoulders. “Mind if I use your bathroom? Haven’t had a chance to take a piss all morning.”

Nate arched an eyebrow. “You seriously waited until now?”

“Hey, I’ve been kinda busy tryin’ not to get killed.” He flashed her an arrogant grin, and she just shook her head, motioning towards the hallway.

“Second door on the left.”

Roman gave her a two-fingered salute and headed off, leaving Nate alone in the kitchen, where she proceeded to sigh heavily, her gaze unfocused. She wasn’t sure what she expected from all this—working with Roman was a lot more complicated than she’d anticipated.

Inside the bathroom, Roman did his business and got to washing his hands, eyes casually darting around out of habit. His gaze shifted towards the open shelf above the sink. Various toiletries cluttered the space—usual stuff, but then something caught his eye. The prescription bottles.

He frowned, tilting his head slightly. “Zoloft, huh?” he muttered under his breath, also clocking the bottle of ACE inhibitors and the usual painkillers and vitamins.

Roman wasn’t one to pry, but this was interesting. The meds painted a different picture of Nate—one he hadn’t really expected. His curiosity lingered as he grabbed a towel to dry his hands, letting the thoughts simmer. 

When he walked back out into the kitchen, Nate was leaning against the counter, now nursing a glass of whiskey instead. She raised an eyebrow as he approached.

“All good?” she asked, her tone casual, but with Nate, there was always a hint of something sharper underneath.

He nodded, a lazy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah. And for the record, you really gotta organise that bathroom. It’s a mess.”

She snorted. “Thanks for the advice, Marie Kondo.”

“Anytime, Princess.” His eyes dropped to the glass in her hand as she swirled the amber liquid around the ice settling at the bottom. “Whiskey before noon? That what the classy folks do these days?” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

Nate glanced at him briefly, then at her glass, shrugging. “What can I say? It’s been that kind of morning.”

Roman noticed she kept glancing down at her phone, checking the time, as if counting down the minutes. “You got somewhere to be?”

There was a pause before she gave him a response, albeit guarded. “Engagement party.”

He tilted his head. “Didn’t think that was your scene…”

She scoffed, setting her glass down with a harder thud than necessary. “Oh, it’s not for fun. Trust me.”

Roman studied her, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s yours, ain’t it?”

“Yep.”

He smirked, but it wasn’t really out of any type of amusement. “Sounds like you’re real thrilled about it. You could always just say no, y’know.” Wow, I’m a hypocrite.

Nate narrowed her eyes, fingers curling into a fist at her side, hidden beneath the counter. “Oh yeah? And what then, Roman? My father disowns me, labels me a traitor, and Boris puts a bullet in my head? Great plan.”

Entirely unmoved by her frustration, Roman just shrugged. “Just sayin’. You don’t strike me as the ‘go along quietly’ type.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, staring down at her glass, “Maybe there’s more going on than you realise.”

“I’m sure there is. But you the one playin’ the part, not me.” He leaned against the counter, lowering his voice into an almost taunting drawl. “What, your old man’s gotta parade you around like a prize for everyone to see? Get the whole city on board?”

Nate’s glare was sharp enough to slice right through his pretty head. “That’s exactly it. He wants everyone to see me as the perfect bride, the perfect daughter. The future of the Volkov empire. And Boris… he’s part of that image, always has been.”

“So what’s the plan? Smile, wave, pretend you’re all in?”

“Pretty much,” she replied coldly. “Until I figure out how to get out of it.”

Roman tilted his head, letting out a small huff. “Seems like you’re a little too deep in the family shit to just figure it out.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing, biting her tongue and clenching her jaw. Why? Because she knew this tall-ass, ridiculously handsome, brooding, imperious Samoan was spot fucking on. He couldn’t have been more correct. She was in too deep. And each passing day, she was finding it harder and harder to seek a way out.

“Well, you enjoy your little party, then. Sounds like a real good time.”

“Yeah, thanks for the encouragement,” Nate bit.

With a deep exhale, he stood up straight and brushed off his jacket, peering down at her the whole time as he walked around the kitchen island, just like the last time, and stopped in front of her. 

“I don’t like you very much,” he began.

“Feeling’s mutu–”

“But,” he held up a finger. “I do like causing pain.” His mouth stretched into a sadistic snarl. “Especially to the tough guys that treat a woman like shit.”

Nate just stared at him blankly, unsure what he was insinuating, though she had a vague idea. Stifling a laugh, she dropped her head and downed the remainder of her whiskey. “You’re a funny one, Reigns.” When she looked back up at him, his expression hadn’t shifted. He was dead serious. “Roman, I’m not asking anyone to take out my dad, or Boris—as fucking heinous of a human being he is.”

“I ain’t said nothin’ about takin’ anyone out,” he chided.

“Nah, but you implied.”

“Hell, if that’s what you took from that, Princess, that shit’s on you.” He grinned, running his tongue along his teeth. “But I will say… Boris has at least one thing goin’ for him.”

Nate raised an unamused eyebrow, daring to ask, “And what’s that?”

Taking a small step forward, he angled his head so he could look straight down at her rather than on her. “His future wife’s a damn good lay.” 

With that, he clicked his tongue and shot her a glimmer of a wink, before backing up and turning towards the door. “I’ll be in touch, Nate.”

Just like that, he was gone. Leaving her speechless. She just stood there, staring at the door, mouth slightly agape at his out-of-nowhere acknowledgement of the night at the safehouse. 

Yep, I’m fucked.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The kitchen of the Volkov estate buzzed with quiet energy as Nate and Katya stood side by side, both immaculately dressed for the engagement party. Nate, draped in the striking red dress she’d grimaced at earlier that morning, couldn’t help but marvel at her sister’s sleek black gown, Katya exuding effortless grace as usual.

She threw a grape in Katya’s direction, aiming for her mouth. “You’re hopeless,” Katya laughed, watching the grape bounce off her chin and roll onto the floor.

“I got the last one!” Nate protested, trying to suppress a grin. The scent of roasted meats, garlic, and buttery dough filled the air as Oskar toilet over the stove, focused on preparing a perfect sharlotka, a traditional Russian apple cake. 

Although, nothing could come close to her mother’s sharlotka. It was always a sort of peace offering for having Nate attend etiquette classes from the age of five. Irina never agreed much with it, but Dimitri insisted. So, she always did what she could to make up for the gruelling hours after schooling at home by baking her own mother’s recipes: pirozhki, pryaniki—the best gingerbread one could eat—and blueberry vatrushka buns. There seemed to be no limit to what Irina could churn out of the kitchen. But the sharlotka was always Nate’s comfort dessert food. No amount of apple-based delicacies could begin to replicate the perfect balance of nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, and sour cream that her mother mastered.

What she would give to be able to taste it again, if even for a second.

But for now, she’d have to settle for the lineup of finely crafted delicacies surrounding her and her sister: blini with smoked salmon, caviar, beetroot salads with herring, and trays of pelmeni steamed and gleaming under the kitchen lights. Hey, you learn to like that shit when it’s the only thing on the table.

“Vy dvoye khuzhe detey,” Oskar grumbled in his deep voice as he whisked something in a bowl. But they paid him no mind, continuing their little game of grape-throwing and quietly giggling like schoolgirls.

As Nate reached for a slice of pineapple, she took a moment to glance around the estate. The house was carefully curated for the event, with most of it roped off. The garden, foyer, and living room were the only spaces guests would access, each prepared with high-end refreshments and, of course, no weapons allowed—at Dimitri’s strict instruction. The controlled environment almost gave her a false sense of security. Almost.

“Shocked Dad’s letting half the bloody city into our house,” she muttered, tossing another grape.

Katya caught it this time, flashing a playful grin. “Only because it’s on his terms.”

“Truueee…” Nate drawled out, followed by a shared laugh. However, the playful moment with Katya was quickly cut short when Boris entered the kitchen, closely followed by… Alexei. 

Boris immediately honed in on Nate’s presence, stepping past the line she’d set between them far too many times. His hand grazed her waist, slipping lower as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, the moment too swift for her to process and inevitably back away.

She frowned, stepping slightly to the side, wanting to wipe off all her makeup and scrub the area Boris’ lips had touched until her skin was red raw. She appeared unbothered, but stayed entirely alert. It was always like that when Boris was near her, and even more so when Alexei showed up. 

“The hell are you doing here?” Nate blurted out, eyes locking on Alexei.

Said man’s mouth curled into a sneer, cruel eyes scanning the room. “It’s an engagement party, sweetheart. The whole city’s here. Or did you think Daddy wanted this to be private?”

Nate’s eyebrow raised. “Public doesn’t mean you suddenly get to show your face more than usual.”

Boris chuckled, stepping in close to Nate again. “You don’t need to know about everything, milyy. Just enjoy today. It’s your party, after all.”

Once again, she sidestepped him, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, really feels like my day…” she mumbled sarcastically.

Alexei cleared his throat, peering over at her with an aloof sneer. “All your Daddy’s people are here to see the future of the Volkovs. A perfect match, nyet? Wouldn’t want the wrong crowd getting ideas.” His gaze wandered judgmentally over Katya, then back to Nate, as if even their existence was barely tolerable.

“Wrong crowd?” Nate echoed, scrunching up her eyebrows.

“Da,” Alexei sighed lowly, tone dripping with malice. “We don’t need the place filled with degenerates… Faggots. Mudbloods.” He said the words like they were filthy, his voice so casual it made her palms tingle with the itch to strike.

Katya stiffened, but Nate was faster to retort. “Don’t start with that shit, Alexei. Not here, not anywhere.” Her voice cut through the room like a blade. Boris, however, simply grinned, fingers brushing over Nate’s shoulder as if trying to soothe her.

“Relax, detka,” he cooed. “You’re too uptight. Let’s not ruin the mood.”

Nate bristled, every muscle tense under Boris’ touch. She didn’t want to make a scene, but being caught between her fiancé’s constant advances and his best friend’s blatant bigotry made her blood boil.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, shoving Boris’ hand away.

Alexei’s pompous demeanour only strengthened, enjoying how uncomfortable he could make her. “Good. Because soon, this will all be yours and Boris’ responsibility. Better get used to the idea.”

Nate glanced toward her little sister, catching the unease mirroring her own eyes. Katya had retreated, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as if trying to make herself as small as possible, as indistinguishable as possible. But it didn’t work. Alexei saw everything when he wanted to.

“Katerina,” he called over somewhat softly—nothing about that man was soft, gentle, timid. “Ty khorosho vyglyadish’... How have you been?”

Katya cast a glance at Nate, visibly swallowing harshly as she responded the way she was taught to: politely. “Thank you, Alexei. I’ve been good. How are you?”

The response was so robotic, and it broke Nate’s heart to hear her recite something like it was written on a script of an elementary school play.

“Much better now,” Alexei answered, the corner of his lips tugging up into a suave smirk. “How old are you now? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I’m twenty…” Katya nodded, her voice a stark contrast to Alexei’s.

“Twenty? Bozhe… A woman now, huh?”

The younger girl didn’t have a chance to respond, as the patriarch himself bound into the kitchen, marvelling at the work Oskar had put into catering the masses.

“Ukh ty, Oskar… Vy prevzoshli sebya!”

However, Dimitri’s praise over Oskar’s cooking was mere background noise to Nate as she glared daggers through Alexei. His eyes were too comfortable roaming around her baby sister’s form. She wanted to kill him. Flat out. Make sure it was painful, long, and devastating to all those who loved him.

Flirting like that with Katya… If you could even call it that. Flirting is harmless. Alexei didn’t flirt. He leered.

And Nate didn’t feel good about it one bit.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The evening had worn on, and the estate was filled with a growing sea of finely dressed guests. Nate moved through the crowd, doing her best to play the part of a gracious host, a smile plastered on her face while her mind churned beneath the surface. Lana and Rusev were laughing in the corner, Ivan and Sergei deep in conversation with a few of her father’s men—Mikhal, Viktor, and Oleg, to name a few. They weren’t the most important faces in the family, but they knew how to blend with the elite, high-profile crowd.

Nate’s eyes scanned the room as she floated from one cluster of people to another, murmuring polite hellos, exchanging handshakes, and nodding in agreement with things she wasn’t even listening to. Her uncles were keeping a watchful eye on her, though, and every time she felt one of their gazes, it was like a tether pulling her back to reality. 

She knew her role tonight—to perform, be the perfect Volkov princess.

The garden had been set up to perfection, golden string lights igniting the manicured hedges and stone pathways. Expensive champagne flowed freely, and the food easily tempted partygoers. Oskar had definitely outdone himself in the kitchen. The sharlotka was the piéce de résistance, sitting proudly on the buffet table beside an extravagant display of pastries and vodka.

Nate brushed a hand through her hair, pausing for a moment to grab a drink for herself. As she sipped she noticed two women entering the garden. They stood out, though not… overtly—it was their energy, and the visible confidence in both of them. One, with the most gorgeous complexion Nate had ever seen on another woman, and long dark hair, wore a curve-hugging green dress. The other, with a strong athletic build, had her hair braided in a striking ponytail, exuding a certain swagger in her deep burgundy outfit. The duo looked like they belonged but didn’t quite fit the usual crowd of oligarchs and old money.

Nate approached them, curious but keeping her casual smile. She was always on the lookout for unfamiliar faces at these events. “Enjoying the party?” she asked, her tone light as if she weren’t silently scrutinising them.

The woman in the green turned with a bright smile. “It’s beautiful,” she said warmly, engaging. “I’m Naomi, by the way—this is my friend Bianca.”

“Naomi, Bianca,” Nate repeated, offering her hand. “I’m Natalka. You two look like you’re used to events like these. Where you from?”

“Here and there,” Naomi answered vaguely, her smile never faltering. “We’ve been around. Bianca, here, was the one who convinced me to come tonight. I’m more of a stay-at-home kinda girl.”

Bianca laughed, nudging her friend with her elbow. “Please, don’t let her fool you. Naomi’s the life of the party when she wants to be.”

“Is that so?” Nate grinned, finding herself genuinely amused by the interaction. It wasn’t often she met people who could match her in charm and presence. “Well, I’m glad you both came. Though I have to ask, how did you manage to get in?” she asked with a playful raise of her brow. “Not exactly a ‘come one, come all’ kind of deal.”

Bianca smirked. “What can we say? We got connections.”

“Clearly,” Nate said, laughing lightly. “Well, as long as you’re not here to assassinate anyone, I think we’ll be just fine.”

Naomi chuckled, shaking her head. “No assassinations tonight, promise. We’re just here for the free drinks and to admire the scenery.”

Nate tilted her head, studying Naomi more closely. There was something about her—she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she liked her. There was an easy rapport between them, and for a moment, Nate completely forgot the weight of what tonight was about hanging over her.

“You guys seem cool,” she said after a moment, glancing around the party. “Honestly, this whole thing’s a bit much, but you learn to go along with it. The best part is always sneaking into the kitchen and stealing food before the guests get to it.”

“Is that an invitation?” Bianca grinned.

“Maybe it is,” Nate smirked back, feeling a lightness she hadn’t felt all night. “If you can handle Oskar yelling at us for ruining his display.”

Naomi laughed again, the sound genuine. “I survived worse, I think we good.”

As Nate continued to make small talk, she kept glancing at Naomi. Maybe it was just nice to talk to someone who wasn’t part of her father’s world, someone who wasn’t there to judge her and then expect the world in return, but her presence… put her at ease.

“Anyway,” Nate said after a moment, “I should keep making the rounds, but if you guys want to sneak off for a drink later, find me. I’ll show you the best hiding spots.”

“We’ll take you up on that,” Naomi smiled back, exchanging a quick glance with Bianca.

The night progressed, and Nate kept up appearances, drifting between the tightly controlled sections of the house like an automaton, all the while keeping her eye on Boris and Alexei, as if expecting something to go awry. The guests mingled—politicians, businessmen, allies, and those wealthy enough to blend in. Nate even found herself exchanging a few more words with Naomi and Bianca, appreciating the brief moments of levity they provided.

But now, as the night reached its peak, it was time for the formalities. Nate had positioned herself between Boris and Katya, while the rest of the family gathered in the centre of the estate’s main garden. Dimitri, towering and stoic, moved to take his place at the centre of attention. His mere presence silenced the crowd, and a soft murmur rippled through the guests as they shifted their attention to the Volkov patriarch.

Remaining carefully neutral, Nate’s heart still pounded in her chest, fluttering away to the point where she thought she’d pass out from the sheer anxiety of how real this all seemed to be to her now. Before, the marriage was all talk. Now… Now, she was standing right in the middle of her own engagement party. 

Dimitri raised a hand, signalling for quiet, his deep, booming voice cutting through the night like a blade. “Tonight, we celebrate the future of the Volkov family.”

Nate blinked a few times, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, this wasn’t just about her engagement; this was about Dimitri’s empire. Everything always was.

“My daughter,” he continued, his sharp eyes briefly flicking toward Nate. “Natalka has grown into a strong woman—one I’m proud to call my own. She has stood by her family, as she will continue to do. As tradition dictates, tonight we honour the union of Natalka and Borislav.” He gestured toward Boris, who was standing just a little too close for Nate’s liking.

Dimitri’s speech was littered with the expected praises and veiled threats, his words crafted to remind everyone in attendance of the Volkov legacy. Nate stood rigid, her fingers laced together, her mind elsewhere as her father spoke about her as though she were a commodity to be traded.

He then paused, looking over at Katya, who had been silently watching from beside her older sister. “And my youngest, Katya, who will one day follow in her sister’s footsteps. Together, they are the heart of this family, and I expect nothing less than absolute loyalty.”

Oh, the irony, Nate thought to herself. 

Traditional Russian toasts followed, crystal glasses raised high to honour the Volkov family and the impending marriage. Dimitri led the gathered crowd in a symbolic toast: “Za lyubov,” he said firmly, to love, a phrase that rang hollow in Nate’s ears given the context of her arrangement with Boris.

As the glasses were raised, the traditions began to unfold. A beautifully ornate karavai, a ceremonial Russian bread symbolising prosperity, was brought out on an embroidered cloth. Nate and Boris were led to break the bread together, another tradition meant to signify their union and ensure good fortune. The larger piece was meant to go to the one who would hold the power in the relationship. Of course, Boris made a show of taking the larger piece, grinning smugly as if that were ever in question.

The crowd clapped politely, though there were a few hushed whispers. Nate forced a smile, Boris’ hand settling on her lower back, pulling her closer. The night had gone just as Dimitri wanted—a public display of dominance, power, and the illusion of a loving, cohesive family.

All the while, as traditions simmered to a halt, Nate was frozen in place, replaying each word of her father’s speech like a broken record. “Katya, who will one day follow in her sister’s footsteps.”

The weight of it settled in her chest, pressing down like a tonne of bricks. Her breath hitched. Was this it? Was this what her life had boiled down to completely? Living under Dimitri’s iron grip, bound to a man like Boris, all while her sister was set on the same path? Of course, she’d had these internal questions many times in the past, but now… Shit.

The panic began to rise, bubbling up from her core, clawing at her throat. She could hardly breathe as the thought raced through her mind: I can’t get out. It’s too late.

Her heart hammered as she scanned the room, her father shaking hands, Boris’ hand still possessively at her waist, Alexei with his leering grin in Katya’s direction as she talked to him about the exclusive collection debuting at the Gucci store, so innocently. She had to leave. If she didn’t, she’d break.

She couldn’t let them see her break.

“I… I need a minute,” Nate whispered, not waiting for a response before pulling herself free from Boris’ grasp and heading back inside the house. She hurried up the grand staircase, her heels clacking sharply on the marble floors, each step quickening with the frantic beat of her heart. Reaching her bedroom, she slammed the door shut behind her, leaning her forehead against the wood, trying to catch her breath. But it was too late—the flood of emotions crashed over her, uncontrollable.

The sobs came fast and hard. She sank to her knees, clutching the rug as if it would anchor her to the earth. “Mum…” her voice was barely a whisper at first, a broken plea for someone who couldn’t answer. “What do I do? What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Her cries only grew louder, echoing off the walls as the years of fear, anxiety, and helplessness poured out. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless, her chest tightening with each gasp until it hurt to breathe.

“I don’t want this,” she choked, pressing her hands to her face, wishing she could just disappear, wishing her mother were here. “Please… tell me what to do. Help me, please…”

She was trapped, and for the first time in years, Nate felt truly hopeless.

TRANSLATIONS Vy dvoye khuzhe detey - “You two are worse than children.” Ty khorosho vyglyadish’ - “You look good.”

[bluebird722]

A Second Surprise

Summary: Jean and Mikasa eagerly anticipate the newest addition to their family with fears and hopes on each side.

Pairings: Jeankasa, AruAni

Rating: T (brief smut, childbirth, indirect PTSD)

Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day, @marshmallow-rainbow139! Thank you for writing some of the best Jeankasa fics I have seen so far! This is for you (and to all my other lovely Jeankasa fic writers)! I know it may not match exactly what you wrote on your blog, but I hope it's close enough.

*** Attack on Titan: A Second Surprise ***

Almost every day in the year since he returned home, Jean reflected on his idea of a perfect future, the life he wanted when everything that he went through was finally over. He still remembered his dream to indulge in the best liquor, regardless of the cost, and to wake up and go to bed in “prime real estate”. All the luxuries that he wanted, even though the comfortable life in the Military Police was not what he wanted anymore, was all because he and his family–the woman he would marry and the children they would produce and raise–deserved the best. 

Of course, reality tended to be different. Jean had never imagined living anywhere aside from an apartment, but a log cabin was what his wife secretly wanted, so he made sure to find and upgrade a lonely cabin into a gorgeous house with a decent number of neighbors and plenty of access to fresh air. He decided not to move into his dream apartment until his mother was much older so the offspring could spend more time with her. Every now and then, he relaxed on the porch with great liquor, but sometimes drinking by himself could be boring and lonely. 

At one point, it occurred to Jean that the liquor and the housing were just secondary; the greater priority, always, was to have Mikasa in his life, have children with her, and make love to her whenever, just as they were at the moment. 

He pinned her wrist over her head, beamed at her relaxed smile, and kissed down her neck, the familiar ways to make her feel loved and know that she was loved and deserved love. She hooked her ankles above his lower back and with her free hand clutched his bare back. They kissed hard, molding their kiss until they parted as Jean increased the movement of his hips. 

He knew every way to bring her endless pleasure, but to him, it wasn’t so much seeing her reactions to him anymore; it was showing that he knew what made her happy and wanted to surround her in it. His kisses down her collarbone made her pant every time, as did the kisses under her jaw. He savored the moment as much as he could to remind himself of the good life that he had and was building for himself. She pushed him up so that they made love sitting upright, but as their breathing hitched, he laid her back down.

Mikasa pulled him into another kiss just as they finished together. Jean groaned into the fabric of their blanket, she clamped her mouth over his shoulder, and they squeezed each other as tightly as they could while riding the waves of pleasure. Then Jean collapsed backwards, his head at the foot of the bed. Mikasa joined him later, cuddled to his side. 

Jean savored their five minutes together until Mikasa, sighing, pushed herself up. “We should get up. Marco will wake up from his nap soon.” She grabbed and put on her white bathrobe. 

Much to her amusement, Jean groaned. “Just five more minutes?” he whined. 

“No,” said Mikasa firmly, though she grinned. “I don’t want to know what he would do if he thought we were asleep.” She watched her husband crawl back under the covers, dragging the blanket with him, and walked out of the bedroom to wake their son from his post-lunch nap. 

Jean curled his wife’s pillow to his face and breathed in her familiar scent. Every day that he spent with her was a blessing, and he could not have imagined a better life partner than her to wake up to in the morning and go to bed with in the evening. He listened to Mikasa walk down the stairs, likely carrying Marco with her, and listened to her talk to and kiss their son. Jean knew that, for the heartache that Mikasa still felt for her murdered parents, giving love to Marco that she would inevitably give to any more children that would follow certainly eased the sadness she felt that her parents had to die for her to experience so much joy.

Reluctantly, Jean left the bed, dressed, and walked downstairs to join his family for the remainder of the day. The urge he had to stay in bed faded the moment he saw Marco’s happy face and the way his son held out his hands for him. 

***

Today had been a great day–finishing a stressless work day early, then a successful lunch with ambassadors, and finding a perfect hunk of boar at the market–but seeing his son run in his direction with his arms reaching for his father made any day, even horrible days, better. With one arm, Jean scooped up and hugged his son. “I’m glad to be home, little man,” he said. He kissed the middle of Marco’s forehead on his way into the house. “Did you have a nice day, even without me?” 

Marco wrapped his arms around Jean’s neck and nuzzled his face in his arms. “I love you, Papa.” 

Those words never failed to lift Jean’s spirits. 

Once inside the house he took off his and Marco’s shoes, and carried him upstairs to play in his room. Jean was opening the door to Marco’s room when he noticed that the door to his and Mikasa’s room was ajar, and Mikasa was lying in bed with the covers over her head. That was odd, given how Mikasa rarely napped during the daytime and most certainly not covered up like that. He excused himself from his son, entered his room, and sat behind his wife. “Mikasa? My love?” He gently shook her shoulder. “Mikasa? Are you all right?” 

Slowly, Mikasa shifted her body and looked over her shoulder at Jean. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. 

Jean stroked her forehead. She was quite warm. “How long have you felt like this?” 

“Like what?” she asked. Upon Jean looking exasperated, she shrugged. “I’m just tired–lots of chores today, lots of cleaning.” 

Jean hated when she said things like that. He shook his head so that she knew that he didn’t believe her. Sighing, she glanced away. “I don’t know. I was…just tired, you know…” Then her expression changed. “It’s been…happening, for about three days, in the morning.” 

Jean hesitated. “Maybe you should go to a doctor?” he suggested in a questioning tone. “It’s rare that you feel unwell, you know, as they say, ‘under the weather’.”

Mikasa looked surprised but shook her head. “No, I will be good,” she insisted. She kissed his chin and walked downstairs to start cooking, only for her husband to eventually catch her back upstairs in the bathroom, on her knees and heaving over the toilet. She had her eyes closed when she heard Jean walk into the bathroom, and said, “False alarm.”

“No,” said Jean. “Mikasa, if you’re not feeling well–you know, you’re rarely ill–something is going on. I want to take you tomorrow, even if you’re feeling better.” He ignored her groans and helped her to her feet and back into their shared bed. 

Mikasa reluctantly complied with his request and the next morning, especially because she was feeling warm and looked nauseated over breakfast, went to the doctor’s office. Luckily, Marco thought that they were running errands and fell asleep in the waiting room, his head on Jean’s shoulder. Then the doctor’s assistant called Mikasa’s name, but Marco still slept even through his mother’s thyroid exam, heartbeat test, and ear and eye exams. They waited ten minutes for the doctor to come in, and Jean spoke for his embarrassed wife.

Any alcohol use, no. 

Any tobacco or smoking products, no.

Any change in diet, no.

Any recent illness, no. 

Any international travel to a country with high rates of disease, no.

Mikasa slept throughout the night, she stopped breastfeeding the year before, she made sure that she consumed only thoroughly cooked meats and animal products, she bathed regularly, and she did not fall ill with the flu when Jean did, even though she cared for him while Marco stayed with his grandmother. 

Then the doctor looked up from her notes and asked, “What date did you start your last menstrual cycle?”

Mikasa's mind went blank.

She stuttered and looked at Jean. At that moment, he realized what the doctor was implying.

The doctor, however, was pleased with healthcare services and methods from the mainland and subjected Mikasa to a blood test that would have results ready later that day. Mikasa complied with the test and was silent as they left the doctor’s office, planning to come back before it closed. She refused to look at Jean and see how he was feeling, but when Marco woke up, she beamed at her sweet little boy and pretended that his entire life may or may not be changing very soon.

At Mikasa’s request, she went to follow up with the doctor on her own, so Jean took Marco to the market to pick out ingredients for dinner that night. She fiddled with the hem of her blouse until the doctor came in and confirmed what she had suspected: According to the blood tests, Mikasa was pregnant again.

Mikasa waited until after Marco went to bed to tell Jean. Jean instinctively rushed to his wife, fell to his knees at her feet, and put his forehead against her abdomen. He didn’t cry until she stroked his hair. 

The day when she told him that she was pregnant with Marco made him the happiest man on Earth…and his feelings at the time, the best that he had ever felt in his life, came rushing back.

The day after, Jean immediately cleaned up a spare room to start building a nursery despite Mikasa’s reminding him that the baby was only the size of a lemon at that point, but he didn’t care. He thought about paint color, which corner to put the toys and changing station, how many of Marco’s baby items did they still have, and where to position the crib so they could hear the baby’s cries at night. Furthermore, and he was the same with their son, he took to carrying all the bags from the market, kept a close watch on her every time she cooked and even cleaned on her knees, and didn’t let her carry the laundry basket. 

Mikasa and Jean, however, agreed to wait until she was ready to show to tell Marco the news. Jean cooked Mr. Omelet Jr. for Marco, and Mikasa drizzled the amount of ketchup that Marco liked. She even let him unpeel and eat two oranges, even though up to three gave him a stomachache. 

“Marco,” said Jean once they were all seated, “your mother and I have some news that we think it is time for you to know.”

Marco took a big bite and his time chewing. “Are we moving?”

No. 

“Are we getting a puppy dog?”

No.

“Is Grandmama good?”

Yes. 

Mikasa took a deep breath and put her hand on her abdomen. “I…I am pregnant, Marco.” Marco looked confused. “I have a baby in me. You–You’re going to have a little brother or sister this year.”

Jean would have immediately agreed to combat a Colossal Titan again to preserve the look on Marco’s face forever. He had no idea that a three-year-old could be that excited to become a big brother.

***

Mikasa’s eyes flung open in the dark. Her heart ached in her chest. Her gaze darted around the dark room, and she listened carefully for any suspicious, unwelcome sounds–but all she heard was Jean’s breathing in his sleep and the rustling of the tree leaves outside as the rain pelted against the house. 

Still, Mikasa closed her eyes again and kept listening hard. It felt real, and yet it was real. Her nightgown was wet against her skin, but she could still hear the horrible sounds, feel emotions that she had buried away for years, and see…them again, like they never went away.

Then she heard a loud crack, and Mikasa sat up immediately. Unfortunately, it also woke Jean. “Mikasa?” he asked upon seeing his wife sitting up. “Are–”

“I am good,” she said. “It’s just…I don’t know why that lightning woke me up.”

“Yes,” Jean agreed. “That is strange. You normally sleep through rainstorms, you know, and thunder and lightning.” When Mikasa didn’t say anything, he put his arm around her. “Come on. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Mikasa worried that she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again that night but didn’t want to concern Jean, so she let him lower her back down onto the mattress. His pressing his body against hers gave her some relief, especially the steady feeling of his chest against her back. It was calming, unlike the harsh rain outside–normally, the rainfall was gentler, less violent. She hesitated to close her eyes and fall back asleep.

When the rain finally stopped after several days, the family decided to picnic their lunch right under a tree. Even though it was still warm, Jean went outside to chop wood for the fire while Marco helped his mother peel oranges, dice sausages, and bake bread with fresh herbs. The boy happily hummed and swung his feet at the table, with the sound of his father chopping wood in the background. 

“Mama,” Marco began, “how did the baby get in you?”

Mikasa immediately stopped and looked at him. “What?”

Marco looked down at his mother’s dress. “If the baby is growing in you, how did it get in you? And how will it get out?”

Mikasa would have laughed, but Marco was at that age where he would have thought that her laughing meant that she was making fun of him. She licked her upper lip. “Um, that is something that you will know…maybe when you are a little older.”

Marco’s mouth opened, and then he frowned. “How much older do I have to be? I want to know how babies get in and grow in mamas.”

His mother shrugged. “I would tell you, but it’s hard to explain–like things you will understand when you grow and your…body changes.” She worried that the comment scared Marco, the indication of puberty before he knew what puberty was, but Mikasa pouted and went back to peeling oranges and occasionally munching on fistfuls of blueberries. Mikasa picked up her knife and continued to cut the meat until she realized that she could no longer hear wood chopping. Was Jean already done? If so, why was he still outside?

Mikasa stood up and walked to the window. She didn’t see Jean walk across the lawn for more wood, so she stepped to the left for a better angle of the tree stump and a trail of blood leading to a human arm. 

Panic seized her, and without warning, the door opened to the sight of three grown, dark-dressed men with satisfied grins that made the world freeze.

“You were right,” one of them said. “An oriental lives here.”

Oriental… Mikasa had not heard that description for years, and a familiar fear that she had suppressed in that time came rushing back.

“Marco!” she screeched as she pushed against the door–a door that the men refused to let close. “Run!”

“Mama?” asked Marco.

They’re coming for me, they’re coming for him, they’re coming for us, it’s happening all over again–

Mikasa struggled against the men who fought back. “Do as I say! Get out of the house!”

“What are you waiting for–take her down, like that man outside–”

Mikasa nearly shut down at that point. Jean… They killed Jean. They killed the man she loved, the man who loved her despite her nearly lifelong devotion to someone else who saved her but also hurt her in unforgivable ways. 

Then they pushed back the door and grabbed her arms. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Marco had left the table and was running from the backdoor.

“Get that boy!” one of the men yelled. “Put this one–”

“No, look! She’s carrying another oriental! Know how much we could go for once that baby comes out?”

Mikasa struggled through tears. This couldn’t be happening, not for real! Not her precious babies condemned to a life of slavery, a fate worse than death. She fought against the hands that made her arms numb and sobbed. “Run, Marco! Don’t stop running…”

A cold, piercing stab in her stomach… Red flashing in darkness… Men yelling at each other… A familiar little boy’s voice screaming and crying… Numbness in her ears…

“Mikasa, Mikasa…”

Mikasa’s eyes opened. It was cold enough for her to shiver. The room was dark. Her mouth dried. Did the men capture her, and transport her and Marco to wherever they sold human beings? Was the stabbing real or her imagination, and the baby was still growing in her? 

“Mikasa…”

Something shook her by the arm. She looked behind her and realized that she had never seen Jean look terrified, even when faced with death. “Mikasa? Can you hear me?”

Mikasa was relieved but didn’t intend to shed tears. Jean was still alive. Maybe he faked his death and was saving her and Marco. She tried to turn to his side but then realized that nothing bound her arms or ankles–just the blanket. “Jean? Thank goodness…”

Jean didn’t look satisfied. He kicked away the blanket and pulled his wife to sit up on their bed–their bed. She looked down and saw that her belly was slightly swollen, with no indication of outside injuries. “Come on,” said Jean. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Mikasa’s mind was partially numb on the way down the stairs into the familiar kitchen with the bare table–no sausages or blueberries or oranges, no…other indication of the picnic for which she and Marco were preparing.

Jean quickly brewed tea and handed her a cup. Once she saw her own reflection, she realized what had happened. What a fool, she thought to herself for no reason. When Jean sat across from her, silently waiting for her to speak, she warmed her hands and listened to the pounding rain outside. Only when the tea had cooled did she start drinking. “Are you not tired?” she asked.

“Not until you are ready to go back to bed,” he said gently but in a tone that indicated a desire for answers. He watched her stroke where the new baby was sleeping and sip her tea in awkward silence. She finished before he did and carried her cup to the sink.

“Mikasa,” he said, “you’re not ready to go to sleep. You know that as much as I do. As much as I’d love to go to bed…you’re not in a state to fall asleep, let alone stay asleep.”

Mikasa gripped the edge of the sink and hung her head. “Did–Did I ever tell you…” She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Jean didn’t say anything. Mikasa took a shaky breath. “I…I suspect…that my mother was pregnant…a second time, when she was murdered.” The tears came without her consent. “I think that’s why Eren’s father was coming to our cabin that day, to confirm if I was going to be a big sister–” 

Jean knew Mikasa enough to realize when she wanted to vent but did not want to be touched. Instead, he stared at his tea and tried not to cry. “I’m so sorry, Mikasa.”

Mikasa wiped her eyes. “Now, I’m giving Marco an opportunity–something–that I never had but probably was…and I’m–I’m scared.” She looked through the window at the pounding rain. “I remember every detail of my parents’ murders, how they could have taken my mother but killed her instead, and were going to sell me into slavery.”

Mikasa remembered that day when she told Jean the story of her parents’ deaths and Eren saving her life, how Jean was horrified and squeezed her in his arms as though it could erase her memory. She was a little satisfied when she heard him breathing heavier. 

“And now you’re worried…that it could happen again,” said Jean. “You’re worried that, even if you’re still considered to have ‘value’ because of your heritage…that you and I–that someone would kill us…and do to Marco what could have happened to you.”

Mikasa went back to crying at the thought of her sweet little boy being taken away, with no savior around nor a chance for the Ackerman gift/curse to mature and possibly save his life…or end it. She knew that her life would not have ended up like this, and certainly that Marco would not exist nor the baby growing in her if that tragedy never happened to her, but how she wondered too much of her parents if they were allowed to live. The world was too cruel to appreciate how beautiful it also was, and it was unfair. 

When the nightmare came back the next evening, this time with louder rain, Mikasa nearly screamed as she woke up. She could feel it on her skin just like heavy raindrops–the terror, the instinct to flee, the shock that her husband had been brutally murdered, the horror in her son’s face, the horrible…horrible…

Arms wrapped around her from behind! It was one of them! They were going to kill her! 

No! She wanted to scream. Please let me have my baby! The world is cruel but also beautiful…

“Mikasa? Mikasa?” There was light, familiar shushing. 

The tension slowly faded from Mikasa’s body. She hung her head and let Jean pull her to his chest and onto his lap. He kissed her cheek and the side of her head. “Another nightmare?” he asked. 

“Y–Yes,” she wept, too tired to deny it. She didn’t want to share any of the details, particularly that this time, she made the horrible, sickening decision to kill herself and the unborn baby and Marco to save them all from an agonizing future that no human being should ever endure. She hated the thought of ever being in a position where she had to do the unthinkable out of love, and it was even worse than the decision to kill Eren–her babies did not choose to be descended from a certain tribe, and they were humans, not possessions or anything to be abused. 

Jean rocked her back and forth and whispered his love in her ear. “Take deep breaths, take deep breaths… Remember, you don’t want to stress the baby. Let it sleep.”

“But–But I…” Mikasa wept. She gripped his arm like something was trying to pull him away. 

“Mikasa, Mikasa,” Jean whispered through gentle shushes. “It’s all right to calm down, I’m here…”

“Mama?”

The couple turned to their door and saw Marco standing with half his body in the room, rubbing his eyes and clutching a bedsheet. “Marco,” said Mikasa, “what are you doing up?”

Marco lowered his hand. “I heard noises, not outside,” he said. “Scared, wanted you and Papa.”

Mikasa realized and felt ashamed that her son likely heard her crying. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Marco,” she said. “Come in here. Papa and I will make you feel better.”

Marco didn’t hesitate to walk over and climb onto his parents’ bed. En route to the space between Jean and Mikasa, he put his hand on where the next Kirstein baby was growing. “Good night, little brother or sister,” he whispered, which made his parents beam. Once he lied down, he fell asleep as soon as his parents kissed his forehead once more and cuddled him close. 

That night, for some reason, Mikasa did not have another nightmare but slept rather comfortably. When she woke up and saw Marco’s slumbering face in front of hers and the twitch of his nose, she wondered if Marco sleeping next to her had something to do with it. 

***

Because the rain was still heavy when the family woke up, and Jean had already picked up eggs from the chicken coop, he decided that, after breakfast, he and Mikasa would teach Marco self-defense. Yes, a three-year-old would not win against a grown man, but the sooner he learned how to protect himself, the better he could fight off against anyone who threatened his life or well-being. Yes, they had to remind Marco not to start fights with anyone, but Jean remembered the neighborhood children who made fun of him for being heavy when he was growing up, who liked to prove that they were stronger by beating him to the ground until he cried and ran home. 

To Jean and Mikasa’s relief, Marco was very excited to learn how to fight off bullies and bad men. He observed his parents as they showed him everything they learned from their days in the cadets and moves that Levi taught them after they joined his squad. Marco’s face was bright the entire time that he didn’t want to stop for lunch or dinner; he rushed through his chores to keep learning. Even while Mikasa caught up on her embroidery and sewing, she proudly watched Marco mirror his father on how to move his hands and legs, and knew that she and Jean would teach the new baby everything that Marco was learning, regardless if she had a boy or a girl.

Marco was disappointed when Jean said that it was bathtime, but he babbled about his favorite moves and how excited he was to learn more. One day, if people were big bullies to his little brother or sister, he would be the good big brother and stop the bullies from hurting his little brother or sister ever again! Jean smiled and agreed, though he hoped that the day would never come–and if it did, the little brother or sister would not need Marco to stand up to bullies but be able to handle his or her own problems alone.

After Marco was dressed in his pajamas, Jean carried him into his room, where Mikasa was already sitting on the bed with an opened picture book. Marco was picking up on reading rather quickly for three, but he had wanted to read to the unborn baby as often as he could. Ever since his parents told him that they liked to talk to the bump so that the baby could recognize its parents’ voices when it was born, he wanted his little brother or sister to recognize his voice as well. He repeated after his mother and averted his eyes from the printed words to the roundness under Mikasa’s nightgown, hoping that the baby was listening. 

Mikasa fell asleep on Marco’s bed, with Marco’s arm and leg around her, but Jean stayed awake and kept an eye on his wife. She didn’t wake up at all; instead, her eyes moved behind her closed lids, and every now and then, she smiled. Jean wondered if sleeping next to Marco prevented the nightmares that their son would be taken away. The one thing worse than the nightmares were that they would come back and intensify after the baby was born.

***

The long period of rain ended with a warm, sunny day–which happened to be the late Sasha’s birthday. The Kirstein family woke up early and made the trip to the graveyard where their fallen comrades rested in peace. Mikasa, already showing but still active and mobile, overcame muddy hills and pathways to the familiar headstone. She and Jean held Marco’s hands, and Jean carried the bouquet of yellow roses. 

On the way, they saw a familiar couple already at the grave, bearing flowers. Jean smiled but did not say anything on their way up. Then Artur and Lisa turned their heads, recognized the couple, and smiled. “Jean, Mikasa,” said Artur. “It’s been a long time.” 

“Hello, Artur, Lisa,” Jean greeted them. “It’s great to see you.” 

Lisa, who was smiling, walked past her husband to shake Jean’s hand. “Thank you for coming,” she said. She looked down at Marco. “And is this little guy your son?” 

“Yes,” said Mikasa. “Marco, this is Mrs. Braus. She is our friend’s mother.” 

Marco let her shake his hand. Then Lisa looked at Mikasa’s noticeable bump. “And congratulations to you, dear.” 

She extended her hand, but suddenly, Marco pushed himself back between the women and held out his arms, giving Lisa a hostile look. “No!” he yelled. “My baby!” 

“Marco!” Jean scolded. “Don’t be rude! She just wants to shake hands; she’s not going to hurt your mother…” He apologetically smiled at the older couple. “Sorry, he’s like this with everyone, even me. Very overprotective.”

Lisa gently laughed, not at all offended. “I think it’s sweet, how excited he is about this big change.” She waited for Jean to tug Marco away by his hand to greet Mikasa, and then Jean let go. Marco immediately wrapped his arms protectively around his mother’s middle, still giving Lisa a hostile scowl.

Jean sighed. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we know this couple,” he muttered. “It’s worse with strangers, especially in the market where everyone else can see.”

Jean didn’t know that Artur could hear him until Artur chuckled. “He’s just a little boy, Jean,” the older man reassured him. “Let him be this way.” Artur studied the little boy who was giving him a threatening look as well. “Something tells me that the baby will be similar to him, especially if you go for a third, or just protective overall–it’s natural for children.”

“You don’t say,” said Jean with an uneasy grin. “Are girls like that as well, very protective when they’re that young?”

The older man raised his eyebrow. “It depends,” he said, “but from my experience–absolutely.” Then Artur put his arm around Jean’s shoulders. “May I give you some advice, in case you have a little girl?” he asked. Jean didn’t say anything but was clearly listening. “Daughters are more like their fathers than anyone would know. The more you understand yourself, the better you will understand the girl you are raising and therefore the young woman she will become.” 

Jean did not know why the hairs on the back of his neck rose, but something about that advice told him that he would not forget it, even if he had only sons. He wasn’t ready to tell a private secret yet, not even to his own wife. “I…I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with an awkward smile. 

Artur’s smile dimmed. “Good. I wish I had known that earlier. Had someone told me, or I found out earlier…” His voice trailed off. “My darling Sasha, my greatest joy, my dearest pride, would probably still be here…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Jean,” he whispered. He turned his face away from his daughter’s friend. “I know I shouldn’t, especially if you’re going to be a father again…”  

Jean shook his head and comfortingly put his hand on Artur’s shoulder. “No, no, it’s all right,” he said. 

Artur closed his eyes, already wet with tears. “Days like this… I am proud that she wanted to die fighting for a cause she believed in, but I…I selfishly wish that she didn’t, that she could have lived to do what she wanted in life or something unexpected, and…and to be by my side as I am ready to pass.” 

Jean took a deep breath. “Well, rest assured”--he smirked when Artur grinned– “if it is a girl, I won’t raise her any differently than Marco, but hopefully a little better, given the experience.” He shrugged. “The only difference is when her body changes and all that, but otherwise, it would not be any more lax or stringent.” 

Artur smiled even with tears in his eyes. “I can tell that you’re a good father, even after all my daughter told me about you when you were just teenagers.” Jean’s embarrassed expression made him chuckle. “You’re going to be a good one again. Your second baby is already blessed.” 

Jean tried very hard to not cry at that compliment.

Marco put his fingertips to his lips and touched Sasha’s name etched in stone. His mother gently squatted down and did the same. She sat in silence for about two minutes and with Jean’s help stood back up. Jean knelt down and didn’t care about the mud on his pants. He touched the headstone. Hey Potato Girl, he prayed to her, so much has changed since I last came over. He sighed. Not a day goes by where Mikasa and I don’t miss you. We talk so much about what you would be doing if you had more time–not just eating and hunting, but, you know, if you would have become an ambassador like me, or would you have moved back to Dauper. 

The sadness was making his chest hurt, so Jean moved on: You know, Mikasa is having another baby. I can’t believe it! I was waiting for the day when we’d have another child. I…I guess I can give you this secret to take to the grave: I will love it no matter what, but…I’ve been praying for a little girl. I would love to have a daughter. I don’t know how different she would be from Marco, but I wouldn’t raise or love her any differently. 

Jean looked up at the engraving. I just hope that I will raise a daughter in a way that will make me proud to be her father, the way that your father is still proud of you and what you accomplished in life. 

Unfortunately, the ache was only growing, so Jean bitterly swallowed. I will see you soon, Sasha. We love and miss you so much. 

Mikasa stayed behind and leaned against the back of Sasha’s headstone while her husband and son walked Artur and Lisa down the hill to the wagon they rode from Dauper. It reminded her of the day they buried Sasha and watched her parents and Kaya weep over where Sasha was forever buried. No parent should ever have to bury a child, especially an only child, even if that child was willing to die for a cause and strangers. Mikasa tried not to think about letting Marco or the baby join the army and fight like the fallen comrades who were not as fortunate to have a future or life like she and Jean had. 

Sasha…if only we had an idea of where you would be right now in your life, Mikasa sadly thought. She lowered her face in her arms and silently wept. Memories of Sasha wouldn’t leave, she hoped, but she feared that one day she would forget the sound of Sasha’s voice and natural accent. Sometimes she had to concentrate to remember how loudly Sasha snored or even mumbled in her sleep. Little things that proved Sasha’s existence were in danger of fading from memory. 

Just then, she felt something in her abdomen. Mikasa lifted her head and went still. The sensation came again–a sensation that felt very familiar, one that she had not experienced yet with this pregnancy and not since Marco was born. She put her hand over where she felt it and smiled to herself. 

That night, as Jean lay down in bed, she sat beside him and put his hand over the movements in her bump. “It started at the graveyard, when I was alone with Sasha,” she said. Tears poured from Jean’s eyes, and he kissed over every inch that the baby had kicked. It must be a sign of something, Mikasa wistfully thought to herself. 

*** 

According to the doctor, the baby was due to arrive in the winter, just like Marco, though hopefully not in the middle of a snowstorm like Marco. Jean, however, did not want to be optimistic. He still felt guilty that he left Mikasa to give birth alone, when so many horrible things could have happened to mother and child without professional care, and he most certainly did not want Mikasa to be by herself, especially when he had to take her to seek medical care when he arrived home the day that Marco was born.

Therefore, after convincing Mikasa, he talked his mother into briefly moving into his house. That way, she could distract Marco from the birth and help with the new baby–especially because they still had an older child to take care of and needed as much help as they could get. Mrs. Kirstein happily agreed and came to the house with suitcases of clothes and possessions on Marco’s birthday. Jean already had the nursery ready at that point and made sure that the new guestroom was spotless. Mrs. Kirstein set down her suitcases to unpack later and helped her son and daughter-in-law set up a private birthday celebration for little Marco before Armin, Annie, and Connie came to celebrate. 

Marco was less excited about his birthday–his last as an only child–and more excited about the baby. For several days, he had been asking, “Can baby come out now? Can baby come out now?” Armin joked that soon he would be saying, “Can baby go back in?” The adults laughed, even though Marco didn’t get it. Still, he protectively hovered over his mother and didn’t let anyone, even his own father, come too close to Mikasa or the baby bump. His scowling, unfortunately, made everyone laugh. 

Even though Mikasa was due in a little over a month, she wasn’t as uncomfortable as most expectant mothers at that stage. Her feet were not as swollen, and she did not have too much pain standing up or sitting down, but she still wolfed down unusual cravings, such as celery and pickles, grilled salami with onions, and–to Jean’s absolute disgust–buttered salmon with blackberries. Fortunately, Mikasa restrained herself from “experimenting” in front of company and overindulging in the fruit tart that Mrs. Kirstein made, though she looked like she regretted letting Annie finish the last slice. 

Marco fell asleep muttering for baby to come out and cuddled between his parents in bed. Jean and Mikasa kissed his forehead and silently agreed with him, but at the same time, they wanted Marco to feel as much parental love as he could, just so he knew that they would continue to love him just as much as they did at that moment, even after the baby was born. 

***

On the morning of December 9, Mikasa had been sleeping soundly until she felt a sharp pain down her side. She sat up in bed in a panic and took deep breaths while the pain lingered. At that moment, Jean leaned up on his elbows. “Mikasa, what is it?”  

Mikasa looked down at her bump for movements but saw no little bump that indicated a kick. She kicked aside the sheets and felt a puddle growing under her. “Jean… I–I think I’m going to go into labor soon.” 

Jean jumped out of bed. “When did this start?” he hissed. “Just now?” 

Mikasa nodded, and Jean hurried out of their room and into the guestroom. Without knocking, he opened the door and knelt by the bed. “Mama, Mama,” Jean whispered as he shook his mother’s arm. 

His mother, groaning, reluctantly tilted her body and opened her eyes. “Jean Boy? What is it?” 

Jean swallowed. “The baby’s about to come,” he whispered. As soon as his mother sat up, he continued: “Listen, I need you to do me a favor: Marco will still be sleeping–he is a very sound sleeper–but when he wakes up, I need you to cook him breakfast, and then take him back to his room and let him play or read or whatever, just so he doesn’t know what’s happening in the bathroom.” 

“The bath–Jean Boy–” When she saw how Jean’s expression changed into concern, she sighed. “All right.”

Jean, beaming, kissed his mother’s forehead and rushed down the stairs, where he called the midwife. The telephone was still something that he wasn’t entirely used to, but he was so relieved that, especially in the winter dark, he did not have to rush over in case she was not there, and thus leave his wife to labor alone. No way was he going to allow her to go through that pain alone ever again!

An assistant answered on the fourth ring, and Jean quickly shared where he lived and that Mikasa had not yet been in labor for an hour, but his son was still sleeping, and he did not want to startle the little boy. The assistant reassured him that a midwife would be over in thirty minutes. Grateful, Jean hung up and, per Mikasa’s instructions, sterilized scissors in a pot of boiling water. He carried the scissors upstairs and stacked towels pulled from the rack beside the tub. Then he clogged the bathtub and poured in mildly warm water. Once the tub was half full, he rushed to his room and helped his wife change into a sleeveless cotton nightgown. Then he walked her into the bathroom to ease her contractions and checked through the window for the midwife. When Mikasa lowered herself into the bath, she let out a sigh, like it was medicine to a long-standing pain she had been holding onto.

“Jean Boy?” The couple jumped at the knocking. “Jean Boy? Are you in here?”

Reluctantly, Jean opened the door until it was ajar. His mother was carrying three water glasses and a full jug. “Remember to keep yourselves hydrated,” she said. “She will need it more than you will.” 

Mikasa took a deep breath and breathed with her mouth in a small O. “You can come in, drop them off,” she panted. She watched her mother-in-law set the glasses and pitcher onto the sink counter and swallowed down another contraction. 

Then Mrs. Kirstein knelt down, cupped Mikasa’s face, and kissed her cheek. “Good luck, darling,” she said firmly. “You’re an excellent mother already to my grandson, and I know you will be the very same to your new baby. Your children are blessed for you to be their mother.” 

Mikasa knew that most loving mother-in-laws would say that, but it made her feel so much better and relaxed even some of the tension she was carrying. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Jean let his mother kiss him as well and then hurry out of the bathroom, promising to bring the midwife upstairs so Jean didn’t have to leave. Mikasa hung her head and panted through tears and sweat. “Did… Do you remember…when that–that Titan…grabbed me? The one you stabbed in the eyes?” 

That memory still made Jean outraged. He could still hear her screech of pain when the Titan nearly shattered her ribcage. “I’ll never forget that,” he muttered. 

“That–When I was having Marco, I realized…honestly, this…this probably hurts more…” She closed her eyes and opened her mouth for another guttural cry. Jean grabbed her hands and gently pulled her up as he remembered in birthing classes that instructed how fathers could ease laboring mothers.

At last, the midwife’s carriage parked in front of the house. Even though more people were adapting to and buying automobiles from Marley nowadays, some folks decided to stick with “old ways” regardless. Jean could see the sun starting to rise and hoped that Marco wouldn’t awake too soon. Then he heard knocking, and his mother led the midwife–one of the newer ones–into the bathroom, where she and the Kirsteins shook hands. 

Jean said that he had two goals: keep mother and child healthy and safe, and make sure that Marco did not suspect anything happening. The midwife immediately took to examining Mikasa and asked about her previous birthing experience, particularly that she had to go to a doctor after the home birth. Through groans and yelps, Mikasa answered as best as she could while clutching Jean’s hand tight enough to splinter the bones. 

“Good morning, my sweet Marco,” they heard Mrs. Kirstein gush to her grandson. “How did you sleep?” 

“Good,” said Marco through a yawn. “Are Mama and Papa downstairs?” 

“No, they’re still sleeping.” Mrs. Kirstein lowered her voice into a hushed tone. “So why don’t we go downstairs for Mr. Omelet–just for you–and then we can play in your room while we wait for them to wake up?” 

“Can I help make Mr. Omelet?” asked Marco. 

Had Mikasa not been in so much pain, she would have beamed at her son’s politeness. 

***

Between bites and recollections he had of last night’s dreams to his grandmother, Marco finished Mr. Omelet in half an hour. He helped her wash the dishes and wipe the table. After they were done, he asked his grandmother if they could check on Mama and Papa, maybe even cook Mr. Omelet for them, but the older woman said no–it was rude to wake people from their sleep, just as Marco didn’t like it when his parents woke him up rather than letting him wake himself. 

Marco looked disappointed, but he went back to his room and pulled out his box of toys to pass the time. He liked the building blocks painted many colors because it was fun to see how many he could stack on top of each other until they fell. “Remember to keep your voice down,” said his grandmother in a hushing voice. She pulled out a sewing kit and stitched clothes for the family that Mikasa intended to fix but couldn’t with swollen fingers, as well as patches over holes in socks and cardigans.

Marco nodded and first moved a toy airship around his head, making noises and pretending that he could hear one very much like the airship that his parents used to ride. Of course, they never told him stories of their experiences, and Marco didn’t understand why. Being up in the air, so close to the clouds and seeing the world below, seemed like so much fun.

***

Based on what the midwife was saying, Mikasa was laboring for much less than the ten hours that she had with Marco. Jean appeared both dumbfounded that women could endure contractions for that long and guilty that he still, though against his will and knowledge, left her alone to experience that fear and pain. Mikasa muffled her cries by biting into a folded washcloth, though the midwife didn’t seem fond of that option. 

At last, the midwife said that Mikasa was dilated and ready to give birth. Jean squeezed Mikasa’s hand back, ready to support her and watch as he became a father a second time. Mikasa closed her eyes, took a deep breath, screamed into her gag, and pushed. When she stopped screaming, Jean removed the cloth and coached her into breathing by counting to ten. “Remember to breathe, or you will deprive even the baby of oxygen,” he reminded her. Mikasa, nodding, bit into the cloth again, inhaled, screamed into her gag, and pushed. 

Naturally, the sight of a woman in childbirth would have made Jean feel uncomfortable, but seeing his own wife through the process, and the fact that the result would be a human being whom they created and would raise together, made Jean fully appreciate how strong and powerful women truly were, to risk their lives and not complain about the physical agony. “I love you,” he whispered to her through a third scream. “You are strong, and you are fearless–that’s what I have loved about you since the day I first laid eyes on you.”

Mikasa was heaving, but the corners of her mouth lifted. She certainly loved hearing that. Then Jean pushed back his wife’s hair. “You’re almost done,” he said. “Let’s try to do this in four or less, all right? One, two…” 

“One, t-two…” his wife cried into the washcloth again and pushed. 

“Good! One more, two more…” 

Mikasa pushed again– 

“I can feel the head,” whispered the midwife. “It’s partially out–” 

With one more scream, Mikasa pushed again. With a deep breath, the midwife pulled the baby’s body from its mother and out of the water. 

Mikasa nearly slipped back into the tub, briefly blinded, but her vision cleared in time to watch Jean, open-mouthed, take the baby and smack the newborn’s back to induce a first wail. 

***

The wall of building blocks crumbled around Marco’s lap, sending the cheering little boy onto his back in a fit of giggles. Building blocks were his favorite toys to play with and pass the time. The best thing about things falling apart was finding ways to rebuild them without making the same mistakes and finding ways to keep them stronger and upright for longer. 

***

The couple in the bathroom laughed and cried at the same time. The newborn twitched and wailed against Jean’s shoulder. Jean kept the baby close to him but scooted forward and reluctantly handed the baby to Mikasa, who embraced the new addition to their family with open arms. As she pushed herself up and leaned against the end of the tub, Jean gently pulled aside the umbilical cord to check between the baby’s legs. It was a girl. 

My prayers have been answered, he thought in relief. He wanted to cry from joy again. “Mikasa…it’s a daughter.” 

As if she didn’t believe him, Mikasa lifted the baby’s leg. “She’s here–little Sasha.” 

Never once did Jean and Mikasa discuss baby names for a little girl–had it been another son, Mikasa contemplated naming him after her father. As for a daughter, they never discussed names–it was a silent but an inevitable agreement that they would name their first little girl after a certain important person in their lives, also gone too soon. Jean didn’t look away from his daughter at all, not even when the midwife handed him the scissors and he cut the umbilical cord, officially making his daughter’s body her own.

***

Mrs. Kirstein watched her grandson happily rebuild a wall and see how many triangles he could balance on a cylinder. He giggled every time he made a mistake and was surprisingly quiet when blocks fell apart. When he tired of playing with blocks, he put them all away first before moving on to playing with toy airships and steamboats. Maybe Mama and Papa did not talk about being in an airship, but when he and Mama got to go with Papa to different countries, he enjoyed riding on steamboats and running around to see how they worked and looked inside. It would be fun to do the same when the new baby was no longer a baby but able to walk and run.

Marco imagined himself chasing a little brother or sister around a steamboat deck, hunching over him or her as they poked their heads into the boiler room, munching on seafood in the fresh sea air, and looking for fish ahead of the bow. He smiled and suddenly became anxious for the baby to be a big boy or girl.

***

Jean carefully peeked from the bathroom and saw that the door to Marco’s room was open, but nobody was in. Marco must have gone downstairs for lunch; he could hear a little voice downstairs. With assistance from the midwife, Jean immediately helped Mikasa and the newborn out of the bathtub, patted them dry, and put his arm around Mikasa’s back to walk her and baby Sasha into his and Mikasa’s bedroom.

After he helped Mikasa into a warm nightgown, the padded undergarment for postpartum bleeding, and her bathrobe, he and the midwife cleaned the bathroom and concealed any evidence that a birth had just occurred. When he was done, he closed his eyes and happily cried again. He still couldn’t believe it–a baby girl! Like he wanted. 

He walked the midwife back into the room to check on mother and child once more, and then downstairs. Luckily, a wall blocked the steps from the kitchen, so Marco would not be able to see anything. Jean quickly paid the midwife and promised to call if something happened in the meantime to either Mikasa or the baby. Then he hurried upstairs to lay beside Mikasa, who was nursing baby Sasha. Jean snuck a finger into Sasha’s hand and beamed when she tightly gripped him. When Mikasa patted her back, she let out both a belch and a sneeze, which made her parents chuckle. 

As soon as Jean heard his mother and Marco climb up the steps, he reluctantly left the room and stepped out into full view. “Good afternoon, Papa,” said Marco, who ran over. An elated Jean picked him up and tightly hugged him. 

“Good afternoon, my sweet boy,” he whispered. He pulled away his son so Marco was looking at him. “Come meet your new baby sister.” 

Marco’s mouth opened. “Wha–Mama had–?” 

“A little girl?” whispered Mrs. Kirstein. Her hands pressed against her chest. “Oh! I’m so happy!” 

Jean let his mother and son into the main bedroom. Mikasa finally looked away from the sleeping newborn, saw her son, and beamed. “Marco, baby,” she whispered. 

As soon as Jean set Marco to his feet, he slowly walked to the bed, like he didn’t know if he was dreaming. When he reached the bed, he cocked his head for a better view of his little sister’s face. She had Mama’s black hair, in little wisps above her forehead, but he could see Papa in her nose, cheeks, chin, and eye shape, like the framed drawing in their grandmother’s apartment of Papa when he was a little boy. 

Marco didn’t care to ask how the baby got out or when she got out. He outstretched his hand and softly touched her chest. She was real–a real baby, a real baby sister. He touched her cheek–warm and plump, like an unpeeled orange. Her lips were pouted, and her snores were soft. 

“You’re a big brother, Marco,” said their grandmother. “Isn’t she adorable?” 

Marco barely heard her; he was more focused on touching as much of the baby’s body as he could, still unconvinced that his mother was holding a baby and not a doll like in the toy store. “Would you like to kiss her?” asked Papa. 

With Mama’s smile and nod of approval, Marco leaned forward and put his lips to the center of baby sister’s forehead. “You’re going to be the best big brother that any little brother or sister can have,” said their grandmother. 

I will be, Marco thought to himself. I promise I will. 

Mikasa handed baby Sasha to her grandmother, and her mother-in-law never once took her eyes off her granddaughter, who slept through her grandmother’s whispers and tears even as she beamed. Jean knew what his mother was thinking–another healthy baby. Another grandchild. Another child to teach how to cook Mr. Omelet, at last a little girl for whom to buy pretty dresses. Another child to one day grow up proud of who her parents were and what they did before she was born. Another grandchild to spoil with kisses and the occasional apple doughnut from the market. 

“You have the best mama, and the best papa, and the best big brother, little one,” she said. “Your mama and papa worked very hard for you and your brother to live the best lives ever. You and Marco deserve nothing but good health and all the happiness in the world.” 

Jean took a deep breath and hoped that it was true. Just as he knew that Marco would have endured his horrible death even had he known about the future Kirstein boy named after him, he knew, in his heart, that Sasha–Potato Girl, the friend whom he and Mikasa missed every day–would have allowed herself to pass just so a little girl named after her would not have to experience the fear and insecurity that plagued Sasha’s village and the children who did not deserve to grow up in fear. 

Jean watched his mother continue to gush over his daughter and was even more determined to raise a strong woman like his late friend, one who would live to be at his side in his final moments as a reminder of the good that he had done so he could pass with pride in himself.  

***

One week after Sasha was born, when Mikasa was finally strong enough to walk downstairs without too much discomfort, Jean and his mother hosted a private feast for the family and their loved ones. Mother and son polished every room and cooked with the finest meats, freshest eggs, and firmest potatoes in the market; Jean even ordered the finest wine from the local liquor store and pulled out the pickled vegetables and fruits preserved for the winter. 

Armin and Annie were the first to arrive and happily pointed out Sasha to their own little girl, who at two was both intrigued and bored. She preferred munching on the pickled watermelon and observing the sleeping baby, oblivious to her big brother sitting beside her on the table and running his hand up and down her abdomen. Armin, who balanced little Abigail on his lap, asked Marco questions on how he was a good big brother; Annie promised to give Sasha all of the clothes and shoes that her daughter outgrew. 

Marco studied every feature of Sasha’s face, even when someone knocked on the door and his father left to answer it, until Papa said, “Connie! Thank you so much for coming!” 

Marco immediately jumped off the table and ran to where Papa and Connie grasped hands. “Con Con!” he yelled. Before Connie could even say hello, Marco grabbed Connie’s hand and dragged him into the kitchen, ignoring the shushing from his mother and the Arlets. “Con Con! Come see Sasha!” 

Connie chuckled and took his time greeting Mikasa and the Arlets without looking at the baby on the table. As soon as Connie saw the baby, however, his smile instantly dropped. The emotional state he was in when he read Jean’s letter and that the baby was named after someone he considered a twin immediately returned. Of course, he held his tears and was excited that the baby was born healthy, but seeing the bundle wrapped around little Sasha made him miss his friend so much. 

Jean, beaming, held out the newborn. “Would you like to hold her, Uncle Con Con?” 

Connie nodded but sat down in case he felt overwhelmed. Then he took baby Sasha in his arms, and the tears that he restrained came out.

“Con Con?’ asked Marco, but his mother put her hand on his shoulder. He knew that it meant that he shouldn’t ask why Con Con was crying. The other adults, on the other hand, knew at once the reason behind Connie’s weeping. He studied baby Sasha’s nose, the point of her chin, the shapes of her lips, and her eyebrows–details inherited from her father but that brought to life his late friend’s features and how she looked when she was happy, sad, confused, angry, frightened, embarrassed… 

Connie set Sasha against his shoulder and rubbed her back, smiling when her breath warmed the side of his neck. His crying slowed down, though he still wept fresh tears. Had Jean not been so preoccupied with acting as host, he would have run upstairs, grabbed his sketchbook and charcoal, and sketched his friend embracing the baby. Little Sasha’s fingers flexed and gripped the collar of his shirt, and the corners of her mouth lifted. 

“She loves you,” Armin said quietly as little Abigail continued to shove pickled strawberries into her mouth. Connie nodded along but barely heard him. He just sensed a connection to the little girl that was much different than his bond to Marco. 

Not surprisingly, Sasha stayed in Connie’s arms until she whined, for which Mikasa correctly sensed that she needed changing. Mrs. Kirstein hovered over her daughter-in-law and kept refilling her glass of water and cup of tea, made sure she served herself first, and held Sasha when Jean helped Mikasa out of her chair to use the bathroom or ease the tension in her ankles and feet. Marco and Abigail ate and touched the baby until Armin and Annie left to get their daughter ready for bedtime; Connie stayed until Mrs. Kirstein carried a yawning Marco upstairs, and Jean and Mikasa walked him outside for final, tearful hugs.

“Sorry about the crying,” Connie whispered. “It’s… I just miss her so much, and…what I wouldn’t do to have her back.”

Mikasa and Jean painfully agreed–what they wouldn’t do to have at least one of their fallen comrades back. Mrs. Kirstein came downstairs in time to say goodbye, and then hurried back into the kitchen. Mikasa walked over, but her mother-in-law waved her away. “No, no, I have this. You go upstairs and spend time with your baby.”

As if on cue, Mikasa stiffened and smiled. “Speaking of which,” she said, “she’s hungry.” She eased herself upstairs into her room. Jean collected the plates, dishes, cups, and utensils, which his mother took and waved him away with a soapy hand. 

“Go upstairs, bond with baby Sasha,” she said. “I have this–you go enjoy our little girl.”

“Thank you, Mama. Good night.” Jean kissed his mother’s forehead and walked upstairs to get ready for bed. Mikasa was feeding Sasha when he walked into the bedroom, and Jean snuck glances at Sasha between changing into comfortable clothes. Then he sat beside Mikasa and belched the infant. 

Sasha fell asleep automatically, but her parents were not ready to put her in the crib just yet. “Good night, Sasha,” said Jean. “We hope you had a wonderful first week. It was chaotic, but at least not like your brother’s. Just know that you were born into a loving family–your mama loves you, I–your papa–love you, your big brother loves you, your grandmother loves you… All of your parents’ friends adore you so much.” 

Mikasa kissed Sasha’s forehead and lovingly stared at her. “We love you so much. I wouldn’t wish my past on anyone, but I wouldn’t wish it away, because all of it led to you. You and Marco taught me everything I needed to know about pure love…and I cannot thank you enough.” She let two tears fall onto the fabric of Sasha’s blanket and watched Jean bring Sasha to the crib, which they planned to move back into the nursery within a month. 

Jean laid down Sasha but gripped the sides of the crib and watched her sleep. You were named after someone so important to your mother and me, he planned to tell her someday. She taught us so much about ourselves and the world around us, about fear and endurance and patience and pain. I promise that I will raise you to be as great a woman–if not better–than my late friend. Jean leaned down and kissed her cheek. Thank you for letting me be your father, Sasha. 

Sasha’s breathing was the sweetest sound. Her father unwillingly turned away and made his way to his wife, who was already under the blankets but watched him. Once he went to bed beside her, she turned away and took his hand to hold against her chest.

Jean cuddled his wife and breathed into her hair. She was the perfect wife for him, just as he tried to be the perfect husband for her. They had the most wonderful son and now the most amazing daughter, and he knew that they were going to grow up to become even more fantastic adults. It was the perfect life that Jean wanted, and he looked forward to an even greater future for his children.

[phoenixcatch7]

Totk end game/post credit spoilers

Me during the final blow and final cutscenes:

^ Link finally getting to beat up the guy that (caused the last century of problems, nearly killed hyrule, wiped out his friends and family, poisoned his friends homes,) took zelda.

^ me. The final dungeon (?) and battle was so so so good and I got to plunge my sword into ganons human body which I will admit I have missed. He tried to flurry rush me!! Failed but still. Rude. I styled on his soon-to-be corpse to show how it was done.

^ girls when the credits roll

^ girls when the credits finish and they see their favourite sage dying after showing her successors her favourite view and passing on the torch to the next generation ten thousand years late but assured a bright future free of suffering, oblivious to the curse of demise trapping hyrule in an eternal loop and link having to stand there and know better and then it cuts to the collapsed construct outside the temple.

^ girls internally when the door knocks and they've got to act normal about it for two minutes.

Notes about the fights:

The gloom shroud/Phantom ganon waiting outside was a pussy as always. Dropped his bow which I appreciated. The white moblin on the other side got shoved off onto his remains. Good build up to the main event.

The demon army was straight out of skyward sword, less satisfying given the lack of physical progress and implied time limit but it was still a fun treat. Didn't get to use any of my fun things though, and the sages made up for their lack of tactical usefulness and REFUSING TO LET ME USE THEIR ABILITIES and BLOCKING MY VIEW and INTERRUPTING MY ATTACKS by their sheer damage output, they deal with several monsters while I was busy. Then they immediately got pulled away by the temple bosses, which kind of dampened the mood. Bye, I guess.

Ganon was literally sitting in a malice hot tub. Straight up marinating in that hot tub like he was a washed up celebrity taking a fake candid photo at a blow out party he hosted at his oversized Beverly hills mansion months before he had to sell it.

Getting to fight rehydrated ganon was so cool! I will admit the way he built up the fight did something for me, the animators did a phenomenal job giving him a weight and power. I wanted to smash his smug face in so bad.

He was strong! Every hit from him knocked link over! But with his shield up it didn't do any damage, so I drew first blood! I always find that very important when fighting bosses XD. I actually had the biggest trouble with his sword, that thing was almost hilariously small on him and blended into the... Everything around link. When he switched to his club it went from worryingly hard to hilariously easy, I flurried literally every attack and didn't get a scratch! I was wary when he got his spear out but I'd gotten into a rhythm and took him out!

The demon king transformation was incredible! When that health bar just kept going I was so excited XD!! It's a fantastic trope/gimmick, love it every time! And the sages came back! And were somehow EVEN MORE HINDERING. He duplicated and everyone split up to fight one, which meant they were running all over the place. Unlike their vows these guys are fully opaque, and when three out of five are many times bigger than link it blocked out a significant portion of the battlefield, when I needed maximum vision to see and dodge the many shadowy ganons flitting in and out of view. I had a plan, I should have been able to pull it off beautifully - yunobo was closest so ram him into the nearest ganon to create distance to reach sidon and water blast through the forming line of ganons, climb mineru for a bullet time and fill everything with explosives.

What did not happen was all of that. I ended up taking the most damage by far in that portion of the fight. Instead of being a cool fight, a useful set of abilities or even an annoying but ignorable gimmick, the sages were active hindrances that blocked me at every turn, side rammed me with attacks aimed at the enemy, hid attacks aimed at me, and escaped my every attempt to reach them like their au was trained for that instead. The only success was reaching mineru to bullet time back flip from her, and by that point I was frustrated enough to use a significant portion of my ancient arrows. If I'd been using the vows I would have deactivated them barely a minute in and taken my chances with the phantoms! It was ridiculous! It was a relief when they got blasted away and it shouldn't have been!

But OH that TRANSFORMATION. I'd heard rumours of the dragon ganon, my own lack of blocking the totk spoiler tag being entirely my own fault, but it was still a shock to see him do what zelda had done, this time laughing manically, gladly willing to throw away even his mind and soul in pursuit of an ever foggy idea of power. (I can only assume he'd never actually seen a dragon before, and had only heard the myths surrounding then, because those guys are NOT designed for combat lol.) The fact that he went laughing as zelda went in pain and tears really cemented how far both were willing to go but how differently they saw it.

That evil dragon aesthetic was IMPECCABLE. 10/10 off the charts. The horns!! The eyes! The explosion! Forcing his way up through the castle with link trapped helplessly in a tooth! The giant claw emerging! The messed up dragon theme!!

And then ZELDA, my beautiful darling!!! I love her so much, even blind and empty, even gone and sleeping her dragon knew what to do against the thing she had been turned into to fight against. Oh she was BEAUTIFUL and so gentle with link, catching him on her fluffy head, she was so small in comparison! And link was absolutely tiny!!! Tiny boy!! She might not have known what to do herself, but she was pressed as close as she could get the whole time, darting about like a minnow in a pond compared to ganons barracuda thrashing. The sunset in the sky just made the whole thing look phenomenal.

The use of like like - esque stones instead of the calamitys eyes was inspired! The eyes would have been too much the same, and the introduction of likes trained us instinctively to hit the rock orb things as weak points. Unfortunately being that high up in the air and being so small comparatively meant judging distance was very hard, I wasted a lot of ancient and bomb arrows trying to hit them. It was only until the stone opened up (sir... Why did you put that BACK on your head?! Hide it in your body like the rest of the sane dragons!) that I realised you could land on him. In my defence he looked entirely comprised of gloom, which has spent the past month sucking my life out on contact so...

I was SO lucky to have my hero outfit on, ie the dyed travellers tunic and cap of the wild, it made every cutscene so cinematic! Sure felt like a zelda game! I took so many screenshots XD.

The final cutscenes though... I've been so worried about getting zelda back to human since I got the master sword glyph in eldin. I've been so, so determined to get her back. I would have done so side quests to do so - since she was a separate quest to defeating ganon I thought impa would give me the instructions! I was fully prepared to have to put in another ten hours or so and then fight ganon again to get the true ending!

And then Sonia and Rauru showed up again like 'that's our DAUGHTER' and gave link the power to rewind time over ten THOUSAND YEARS and turn her dragon soul back to a human ToT. And then they took links arm!! I was so mad! Give him his arm back?! Where did the flesh one even come from it got turned into a blackened lump on a pg screen! They can't even show blood! That arm was fully gone! You said yourself it was beyond - ohhhh they reversed time on his arm too. What is with Rauru and non consensual arm replacement?? I was a part zonai hybrid! The last piece of an extinct species! I could levitate and reverse time! Give me!! my arm back!!!

But Sonia finally got to meet link like she'd wanted and they got their closure after millenia and they said goodbye ToT.

And then link CAUGHT zelda. They landed in the pond he had all that time ago at the beginning, and he swam them to shore, and zelda woke UP and came HOME and SURVIVED after she'd lost all hope for herself and she got to come HOME 😭 (see pictures above for reference). And they SHOULD HAVE HUGGED NINTENDO, THEY SHOULD HAVE HUGGED.

I was crying so hard I literally couldn't see the screen ToT. I had to keep blinking and sniffling and I just SOBBED when the credits rolled. Wailing into the tissues. And then mineru and the sages! Dangit, not my favourite sage! Dangit, let me keep ONE zonai thing?? Thankfully I didn't burst into tears again but it got CLOSE.

All in all? 10/10 incredible showstopping unbelievable never been done before perfect amazing. Everything down to the camera angles were perfection made physical (or virtual). Just NEVER make me have to fight with the sages again.

[keiraleth]

Books Read in 2022 (Part III/V)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here are all the books I’ve read in 2022.

RATING: 5/5 = All-Time Favorite | 4/5 = Loved It | 3/5 = Liked It | 2/5 = It’s Complicated | 1/5 = Not For Me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis by Andy Weir

Read in German | Rating: 3/5

“Very few people get a chance to quantify how much their father loves them. But I did. The job should have taken forty-five minutes, but Dad spent three and a half hours on it. My father loves me 366 percent more than he loves anything else.”

Summary: Jazz Bashara is a criminal. Well, sort of. Life on Artemis, the first and only city on the moon, is tough if you're not a rich tourist or an eccentric billionaire. So smuggling in the occasional harmless bit of contraband barely counts, right? Not when you've got debts to pay and your job as a porter barely covers the rent. Everything changes when Jazz sees the chance to commit the perfect crime, with a reward too lucrative to turn down. But pulling off the impossible is just the start of her problems, as she learns that she's stepped square into a conspiracy for control of Artemis itself—and that now, her only chance at survival lies in a gambit even riskier than the first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid

Read in English | Rating: 4/5

“Good bosses shouldn't make you happy in a job that they wouldn't want to do themselves," she said. "It's my job to make you so miserable that you're forced into finding something that brings you joy, and then I help you seal the deal.”

Summary: Alix Chamberlain is a woman who gets what she wants and has made a living, with her confidence-driven brand, showing other women how to do the same. So she is shocked when her babysitter, Emira Tucker, is confronted while watching the Chamberlains' toddler one night, walking the aisles of their local high-end supermarket. The store's security guard, seeing a young black woman out late with a white child, accuses Emira of kidnapping two-year-old Briar. A small crowd gathers, a bystander films everything, and Emira is furious and humiliated. Alix resolves to make things right. But Emira herself is aimless, broke, and wary of Alix's desire to help. At twenty-five, she is about to lose her health insurance and has no idea what to do with her life. When the video of Emira unearths someone from Alix's past, both women find themselves on a crash course that will upend everything they think they know about themselves, and each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Read in German | Rating: 4/5

“I'm just curious, how'd you get into this line of work?" "Gradually, and then suddenly.”

Summary: Set in the days of civilization's collapse, Station Eleven tells the story of a Hollywood star, his would-be savior, and a nomadic group of actors roaming the scattered outposts of the Great Lakes region, risking everything for art and humanity. One snowy night a famous Hollywood actor slumps over and dies onstage during a production of King Lear. Hours later, the world as we know it begins to dissolve. Moving back and forth in time—from the actor's early days as a film star to fifteen years in the future, when a theater troupe known as the Traveling Symphony roams the wasteland of what remains—this suspenseful, elegiac, spellbinding novel charts the strange twists of fate that connect five people: the actor, the man who tried to save him, the actor's first wife, his oldest friend, and a young actress with the Traveling Symphony, caught in the crosshairs of a dangerous self-proclaimed prophet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Titan’s Curse by Rick Riordan

Read in German | Rating: 4/5

“In a way, it's nice to know that there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some devine force is really trying to mess up your day.”

Summary: It's not everyday you find yourself in combat with a half-lion, half-human. But when you're the son of a Greek god, it happens. And now my friend Annabeth is missing, a goddess is in chains and only five half-blood heroes can join the quest to defeat the doomsday monster. Oh, and guess what? The Oracle has predicted that not all of us will survive...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec

Read in English | Rating: 5/5

“I just figured you might want to make an exception for these particular feelings, bothersome though they may be, because they're about you." Angrboda stared at him, he stared back at her and, for once, he seemed to be absolutely serious. "What? I care for you as well," he said, "as much as I hate to admit it. Caring about things makes life for complicated doesn't it. Best not to care about anything at all in my opinion. And then you came along. I find it quite bothersome indeed.”

Summary: Angrboda's story begins where most witches' tales end: with a burning. A punishment from Odin for refusing to provide him with knowledge of the future, the fire leaves Angrboda injured and powerless, and she flees into the farthest reaches of a remote forest. There she is found by a man who reveals himself to be Loki, and her initial distrust of him transforms into a deep and abiding love. Their union produces three unusual children, each with a secret destiny, who Angrboda is keen to raise at the edge of the world, safely hidden from Odin's all-seeing eye. But as Angrboda slowly recovers her prophetic powers, she learns that her blissful life—and possibly all of existence—is in danger.

[jellytoru]

Wonderland ( The Umbrella Academy)

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 1: " Sir Reginald Hargreeves is dead "

~☂~

" 2 hours and 30 seconds... That's enough training, Number 8. We shall resume your training early in the morning, tomorrow " a stern voice told as the female teen in front of him collapsed on her knees and catches her breath, sweat rolled down her face and she quickly swept it with her hand before standing on her feet once again.

" For the past 4 years ever since you woke up, and I've started to train you once again- You've got improvements though when you're using your Gravitational abilities on lifting bigger and heavier objects, your quiver and the way you lift the object are slow unlike before- on the other side when it is used as a shield it becomes impenetrable that is an improvement " Reginald explained, the disappointed scowl was present on his face as he looks at the 16-year-old female in front of him.

The female didn't say anything as she held the hard gaze of her father. Y/n did everything to please the old man when her siblings aren't present anymore. Number 5 disappeared and didn't come back, Number 6- Ben had died on their last mission together not long after Five had gone missing. Luther was sent to the moon just before Y/n woke up from her coma, Allison's busy being an actress and to the new movie that she's in, Klaus – the last time Y/n heard from Pogo, her junky brother was at the rehabilitation. Diego's busy with being a superhero/vigilant job while Vanya's busy with her recital. So to summarize- Y/n was left behind together with her strict father, robot Mother and Pogo.

" How about you're conscious jump? Did you already control your consciousness whenever you use that ability? " the old man asked

Y/n took a gulp as she felt her throat become dry, " I- Yes father, I've been training my conscious jump as per your request but It seems that I have a bit of trouble- But do not worry, I have it under control " she explained carefully, despite the way her heart's beats loud in her chest she waited for a response for her father- in which he did as he motions her to continue.

" I can sleep like a normal person without having my consciousness drift away to the past or to the future unlike before. In regards to my Temporal abilities- it appears to be... the same "

Reginald then sent her a disappointed scowl, " You are still a Disappointment, Number Eight. We just need to further enhance is your Gravitational and temporal, I want you to work on that even harder at the same time work on your conscious jump to bring back Number Five- am I clear? "

" But father! I can't just simply use my conscious jump- I would be stuck once again! " Y/n argue though with another glare she shuts her mouth and lowered her head.

" No Excuses! Do as I say or I will " and with that Reginald turned around and started to walk away, leaving the 16-year-old female inside the training room.

Slowly, the female's knees gave out making her sit on the cold ground. As her heart beats fast, Y/n then let out a sigh before she started to turn her head around the training room and she felt De Ja Vu as she remembered one time when they were still complete- Five was still there, smirking together with Diego and Ben is still alive and always sticks to Klaus and her so they could pester their other siblings, Y/n would be using her gravitational by slapping Luther's - who kept flirting with Allison and while they were talking-  shoulder making him float on air and Allison would be mad at her and she would start to run away from her angered sister.

~~

" Hey, Klaus! look at that two ~ all flirting and shit- makes me want to puke sometimes " Y/n told Klaus as she grabs his arm and turns Klaus in the direction of where Luther and Allison are.

Klaus laugh," Wanna do something stupid? " he suggests to his sister, whose smile turns into a sadistic smirk.

" How many minutes do you like? " Y/n asked, eyeing her brother beside her.

" 5 minutes? give or take? " a voice answered, both Klaus and Y/n turn their heads to their left side to see Ben beside them.

" What are we betting for? " Klaus questioned, grinning at Ben who returns the smile.

" The dessert that Mom always serves after dinner and lunch " Ben answered, both Klaus and Y/n face Ben before nodding their heads in agreement.

Y/n giggled before letting go of Klaus's arm and sprinting past Five who is sitting while Deigo just looked at both Ben and Klaus.

" She's seriously gonna do it now? What if Dad would just walk in and saw?  " She heard Diego ask both Klaus and Ben.

" Yeah, I think he won't be here any minute " Klaus answered as Ben nod his head in agreement.

Y/n held up her hand as she was near to where Luther was before smacking him on his shoulder hard that making him stumble before floating upwards.

" SIKE! " Y/n claimed before laughing hard while Allison let out a yelp in surprise.

" Y/n! get me down! " Luther demanded, but the girl just let out her tongue, annoying the floating male even more.

" Dammit! Y/n! we're talking! " Allison growled before chasing the female

" More like flirting! " Y/n scoffed and quickly started to run away from Allison.

" I didn't do anything when you and Five are flirting! " Allison adds as she tries to catch the short girl.

" Doesn’t matter- I’m bored!! " Y/n throws back still running around in circles in order not to get caught by Allison.

" Argh! I'm telling Mom you're being a brat again!- Now! let Luther down! "

Y/n stops in her tracks as Allison crashes behind her " Now, wouldn't be that, should I say- Childish, Ally? "

Allison wrap her arms around the short girl's waist " I heard a rumour- "

" Okay, that wouldn't be happening! " Y/n announced and active her Temporal power, stopping the time around her. The female grab Allison's arms and unwrapped them from her waist then she walks away to head to where Klaus and Ben are.

" You know, you're going to be in trouble again, shortcake, " A voice said, Y/n scoffed and turn her head towards the unfreeze Five who is still sitting and looking at her with a smirk on his face.

" I wouldn't be in trouble if dad isn't here yet " Y/n replied, instead of heading towards Ben and Klaus, she heads to where Five was.

" Then resume the time again "

Y/n raised her brow at the male in front of her,  Five shrugged his shoulders with a teasing smirk on his face, " What can't do it? too afraid Dad would catch you? " 

Y/n snarled and snapped her fingers and the time resumes again, Allison fell to the ground, Luther is still floating, and Ben, Klaus and Diego laugh when they saw Allison fall to the ground. Y/n let out a chuckled while Five chortles at the sight.

" Arghh! Y/n! " Allison growled, making the said female break out a laugh but it was cut short when a voice interrupts.

" What is happening here!? Number 8! Let down Number 1, this instant! " Reginald demand, Y/n then snaps her fingers again making Luther fall to the ground who let out a groan in pain.

" Oops... " Y/n said as she chortles under her breath, Five nudge her elbow, earning the female's attention, sending her an 'I-told-you-so' look at her and a smirk, Y/n just gave him a sarcastic smile.

~~

" Y/n? " a voice called her out in her daze. Y/n shook her head slightly before turning her head towards the door.

" Huh? Oh! Mom! " Y/n said, turning her body towards the door and hurried her way towards her mother.

" What are you still doing here? you should have been already sleeping, dear " Grace told her daughter and place her hand on her shoulder " Come along now, I'll take you to your room "

" Hey, mom... Are you okay? "

Grace hummed in response as Y/n grabbed hold of her hand and stop in their tracks "You're acting a little different these past few days "

Grace looked at Y/n before sending her a soft smile " Why wouldn't I be okay, darling? maybe you're just tired from all the training that's why it makes you think like that. Don't worry honey, mom's okay " Grace reassured Y/n as the girl nod her slowly as they proceed to her bedroom.

As they arrived at the door of her bedroom, Y/n turned to Grace.

" Night, mom, " Y/n told her mother before gesturing for her mother to lean down, so she could place a kiss on her cheek.

Grace in return smiled at her and place her hand on her daughter's head, patting it softly " Have a good night, darling, I love you "

" Love you too, mom " Y/n replied before going inside her room, after she locks her door, Y/n leaned her ear at the door and listens to Grace's footprints until it disappears.

Making a small 'pop' sound with her mouth, Y/n then walks towards her closet to grab her dark grey, worn-out school wool jacket and Five's scarf, she then wrapped the scarf around her neck the faint smell of peanut butter marshmallows and his natural scent made her somewhat calm before putting on the dark grey wool jacket over her. The female then took a gaze at the little bear and doll at the centre of her bed.

" I'll be back later, Dolores will keep you company, aren't you Dolores? " Y/n asked the doll who is beside the bear, " See, she said that she will- Now behave and I'll be getting some coffee " and then turned around and headed straight to the window and tried her best not to make too much noise and push it upwards. Y/n then let herself out before pushing down the window, leaving an inch little opening so she could easily open it when she got back.

With one final wave to her friends, Y/n silently made her way towards the fire escape's ladder and then jump down when she reached the last step of the ladder. Water splattered on her black mary Jane as well on her black socks but she paid no attention to it as she walked out of the alleyway and headed to the destination that she was going.

" Now we go and have a decent cup of coffee, " Y/n told herself as she tucked half of her face into the cosy scarf and then headed straight towards Griddy's Doughnuts shop to grab some of her nightly routine of coffee to go.

About 5 minutes, Y/n arrived at Griddy's looking over the glass door, she saw that Agnes wasn't the one who is on the night shift. It's some female who's too tired to question why a 16-year-old teen is about to order some coffee at 10:30 pm at night.

Pushing the glass door open, Y/n walked inside the dimly lighted doughnut shop, assorted doughnut flavours were placed on display, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee grounds filled the air. A couple of people were either sitting at the table eating some doughnuts or drinking coffee.

" Miss, one black coffee on to go and a glazed doughnut and a cinnamon twist doughnut that's all, " Y/n told the waitress as she took a sit on one of the barstools. The tired lady didn't even say anything but raised a brow.

" Um, do you mind if you can also give me some 4 pockets of sugar?  " she added before sending a fake wide grin to the waitress. Regardless of her confused looked that the waitress gave her, she made her way to make her order.

" Thank you, here, " Y/n said and gave her pay " Keep the change " she added after the waitress gave her to-go order together with her 4 packets of sugar and a stirrer. Y/n then open her cup of coffee and trip open the 4 sugar packets and poured them on her coffee before stirring it and she placed back the lid on top before sliding off the barstool with her doughnuts in her left hand and coffee in her right hand.

Pushing open the door, a gash of cold wind met her face though unfazed by the cold she quickly got out and headed to her usual place. Upon arriving at the highest building where you can see the city lights and have a quiet atmosphere. Despite the cold, the female sits on top of her legs dangling on the edge beside her is her still hot black coffee.

Y/n lets out a hum as she stared at the scenery in front of her. The bustling city- filled with still awake people, car horns at the distance and a faint sound of police sirens that are patrolling around the city is also heard; a cold breeze from the wind greeted her face once again. Y/n lets out a yawn before scrunching her nose, she then hoisted her coffee to her mouth before carefully drinking the hot beverage.

" Still taste bitter " Y/n commented but still resumes to drink her beverage while staring at the city. Placing the cup beside her, she then open the paper bag that held her sweet treats and grab one of them before taking a bite, " This cinnamon twist doughnut's good- I'll buy some more next time "

" I didn't do anything! Please, I have a family and have a daughter " a woman pleaded as she was on her knees begging and crying her eyes out.

Y/n looked at the female before a big grin stretched on her face, a mocking look was present. The woman's face shifted from crying to horrified as she watch her killer break out a big psychotic smile.

" Please, please, I'll do anything you want! J-just don't kill me " The woman begged even more and Y/n just looked at her amused though her eyes were cold and distant.

" The only thing you could do is to die " Y/n happily beamed before letting out a hearty laugh " The Doormouse awaits your arrival! " she added then pulled the trigger, killing the woman instantly as the bullet went through her head.

The smile then turned into a frown, " Aww, Hey! Wake up, we still have a lot of things to do!! I was still going to dismantle you from head to toe!! " she fumed then kick the already dead woman with the tip of her shoe, " Oh well! More fun to me!! " and then clicked the gun once again and pulled the trigger, shooting the dead woman once more till she was satisfied.

Satisfied with her work, she leaned down to the disfigured face of the woman, " There, look amazing "

Y/n stood up and placed her gun back inside her coat, at the holster strap on her chest before turning her back away from the disfigured dead woman and then casually walked towards her briefcase and she disappeared.

Y/n then shakes her head, as she snaps out of her trance there it is again, the unwanted memory that she had again surfaced as her mind drifts off to somewhere that made her remember.

' That was in the past.... and it's an order from her ' she thought before taking a bite from her final doughnut. ' Though I kinda miss it since I could go anywhere, I can't do that anymore '

Y/n then looked at the moon where Luther was, she and he wasn't that close as Luther was shit on her perspective and he pissed her off on some occasions.

" Sup, Number One! How is it over there? I guess you're already used to floating there since there's no gravity there, my practice on you had paid off, huh? "

" This doughnut is so good it complements this coffee "

Hours went by and Y/n was still sitting on the edge still looking at the city lights there was a point where she laid her back on the floor and started to gaze at the stars, her eyes watered as sleep was starting to consume her though she fights the urge to sleep. Only then did a raindrop make her decide to go home, she activated her gravitational ability and jump off the building, softly her foot reaches the ground and then deactivated her ability before proceeding to walk out of the alleyway.

People stared at her wondering why a teenage girl walk out of the dark alleyway, Y/n shrugged off their stares and kept walking, an image caught her attention that made her stop in her tracks and turned to the T.V store's window and read the headlines on the screen carefully.

" Ohh.. " she gasped before she headed back to the academy rather immediately.

"Sir Reginald Hargreeves is dead " 

[royal-ruin]

genshin: diluc and kaeya (platonic) fic recs

other genshin fic recs here genshin fic recs by pairing here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

The Master of Dawn Winery Doesn’t Drink Wine (and Five Other Things to Know Before Trying to Kill Diluc Ragnvindr) by resince (~4k)

He receives his assignment on a too-hot day when he’s just arrived in Mondstadt. Diluc Ragnvindr is all it says. That is enough for him. But, the more he learns, the more this target seems impossible.

no ships, but a little hint of plantonic diluc/kaeya

tell all the truth but tell it slant by CalicoColors (~6k)

Kaeya accidentally reveals his past only a year after being accepted into the Ragnvindr’s during a fever-driven nightmare.

This changes everything and nothing all at once.

Although Kaeya doesn’t remember, Diluc does. The future changes as Diluc accepts this new truth at a young age.

basically a fix-it fic.

(fire)crackers and cheese by meowy_times (~9k)

[“He’s one of the weird grown-ups. He’s so grumpy all the time… why does he never smile?“

“Hello Jean,” Albedo greets, “We’re here to collect a few extra papers and drop Klee off?”

“Yes, here,” Jean hands Albedo a small stack of loose papers, mostly covered in empty charts that would be filled once they got up to Dragonspine. “And about Klee,” Jean glances around and sighs. “Diluc!” A sound comes from upstairs and Albedo looks up as Diluc, the illustrious winemaker of Mondstadt, pads down the stairs like a grumpy dog.

“Diluc!!” Kaeya grins. He moves toward Diluc, his arms outstretched for a hug. Diluc grunts and avoids it.

“Yes,” Jean clears her throat, “I’ve managed to get the old Cavalry Captain to stay with the Knights for a while – which took quite a bit of convincing. He will also be in charge of watching Klee while we are away.”]

mostly diluc-centric

Taking Care of Yourself (and Sometimes Not) by enbybedo (~2k)

Unfortunately, the tavern was as lively as Charles warned Adelinde it would be. It was packed to the brim with people due the last-minute birthday celebration of one of Mondstadt’s resident drunkards; Diluc didn’t bother to remember which. All he comprehended were the deafening cheers of an intoxicated mass and a stifling atmosphere filled up with the stench of liquor. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in on the pyro user as he absentmindedly wiped down dirty wine glasses and prepared drinks for the large crowd of customers. A voice called out to Diluc, but he could barely register it, being too focused on not collapsing on the job. He continued to clean a spotless glass as he tried to gain his bearings once more, wishing that the world would stop spinning even for just a moment.

*Song of Resistance: Frostborn Loyalty by TheOpticalMouse (~38k)

What if Schubert’s attempts to take over Mondstadt succeeded, and the Traveler never got in the way? What if Mondstadt was left to fend for itself against an insidious evil from within the stone walls that were supposed to protect it?

Diluc MIA Jean captured The City in Chains It falls to Kaeya and the scattered remains of those still free to gather and win their home back.

This tale is one of two parts, told in tandem with StrangeDiamond in their Sister Fic, "Song of Resistance: Flames of Defiance” in a massive collaborative project!

*Song of Resistance: Flames of Defiance by StrangeDiamond (~30k)

When the Lawrence Clan, backed by the Fatui, launches a two-pronged attack against Dawn Winery and Mondstadt, everyone is blindsided. The City of Freedom falls within a matter of hours … but Diluc survives, to rally those outside the city walls to take back their home … and make their enemies pay for all they’ve taken from them.

Sister fic to Song of Resistance: Frostborn Loyalty by TheOpticalMouse

both of these fics are so good, i absolutely love them. you can read them in tandem if you’d like or read them one at a time. personally, i think you’d have the best reading experience if you read them in the order they’re meant to be read though.

Liar, Liar by StrangeDiamond (~19k)

[“Are you trying to tell me … that you are literally incapable of telling the truth right now?” Diluc asks incredulously, because that’s what everything’s adding up to. Kaeya’s expression of relief is his answer, and his words (kind of) confirm Diluc’s theory. “Nope. That’s not what I’m saying at all.”]

Kaeya needs Diluc’s help to cure a rare affliction before it kills him. Diluc just might kill Kaeya himself before all is said and done. (Standalone Fic) Will be updated every day until complete.

The warmth in my heart by softcloudss (~2k)

where Diluc has a relapse of his childhood ailment and Kaeya fusses over the well-being of his brother.

(a self-indulgent work written to satisfy my craving for Diluc being cared for, and Diluc and Kaeya reconciliation)

The Flames of a Man Long Gone by SakuraSloth (~5k)

He stands up, catching another glimpse of scarlet in the darkened window. A familiar jolt shudders through his body, and soon nausea settles in his stomach.

It’s been years, and Crepus’ ghost still plagues his reflection.

Or late-night grief and mitachurls do not mix well.

*The Burden Of Memories by TheOpticalMouse (~51k)

The Abyss order is seeking to find any way it can to destroy Mondstadt. In their attempt to turn Diluc into their puppet, they cannot finish the process before Diluc escapes.

Still, the damage is done.

*Watcher of the Night by COBALT (nacaratskies) (~70k)

At age 22, Diluc Ragnvindr is murdered, with only his estranged brother as a witness.

At age 17, Diluc Ragnvindr woke up.

With memories that weren't his own, a strange connection to his Delusion, and lingering dreams of a world without him in it, Diluc was determined to relive the worst night of his life and get it right this time—no matter the cost.

Unfortunately, his plan did not account for Kaeya.

this one is pretty long, but it’s so worth the time.

Two Liars and a Spy by HAL_berd (~4k)

Following the Stormterror Incident, the Church of Favonius hires professional aid for its traumatized citizenry. This places two of the most powerful men in Mondstadt on the chaise longue over their petty sibling dispute.

Or

Diluc and Kaeya have been going to counseling over their issues, but something's afoot with the counselor, and neither of them particularly care to cooperate. At least not in the way the counselor hopes.

featuring: reconciliation and two absolute menaces.

Distant Echoes by deprecavi (~4k)

Kaeya is grounded, but he turns up at the Angel's Share anyway. However, when he leaves without even finishing his drink, Diluc is concerned and follows him out.

we've taken different paths and traveled different roads by LilacsAndLilies (~6k)

Diluc comes home after three years only to find Kaeya right where he left him – at the Winery. This changed more than either of them could have imagined.

au where kaeya takes over the winery while diluc was gone.

next to your heart by alexithymias (~6k)

Four times Kaeya kisses Diluc, and one time he kisses Kaeya.

it sounds a little suspicious, i know, but read and you’ll understand.

*for living is an exercise in suffering by iellimau (~5k)

There was blood on Diluc’s hands.

He couldn’t see it— no one could. Not while he was still eighteen and just about to leave Mondstadt, not while he was fighting in Snezhnaya, not now in the few months since his return home. But it was there.

or What “recovery” means to a man who’s just come back home.

tw warning: read the tags. this fic concerns things like SH, suicidal ideation, OCD, and more. i’m putting it under diluc and kaeya, but it’s mostly just about diluc.

*Poisoned Dreams by StrangeDiamond (~83k)

Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.

Blind Mirror by StrangeDiamond (~76k)

A serial killer surfaces in Mondstadt. One whose signature is eerily similar to the first serial killer Jean and Kaeya ever caught together, four years ago. Right after Diluc left the Ordo. The shadow of the past falls heavily on the new investigation, as the three friends hunt down this threat to their city and are forced to reconcile their lives now with their regrets and mistakes from four years ago.

this one is basically a sequel to the previous one. they can be read seperately but it might be hard to understand diluc and kaeya’s dynamic at first if you don’t read it in order.

This is No Cultivated Heaven by thecrazychatlady (~6k)

Kaeya and Diluc get into a fight so bad that Jean intervenes, demanding Kaeya apologize for wrecking the Angel's Share. He gets a little more than he bargained for. Ragnbros reconciliation fic.

[“What’s this I hear about you and Master Diluc scuffling in front of the Angel’s Share last night? I have three concerned reports from—” these she ticks off on her fingers, “Margaret from the Cat’s Tail, Captain Hertha, and Six-Fingered Jose, all sitting on my desk when I arrived this morning. Not to mention multiple eyewitnesses who said that you went after him with a chair. Explain yourself.”

Kaeya winced. “About that. You may get an invoice from the Dawn Winery fairly soon, on account of the ruined bar…”

“You demolished the bar?” Jean demanded.]

hold me tighter (don’t let go) by mysterious_ky (~3.5k)

Kaeya never tells Diluc his secret, they never fight, he doesn’t get his vision as a result of almost dying at his brother’s hands. Instead he runs.

Kaeya runs for three years.

One night, he comes home.

*Lights Are On (But Nobody’s Home) by enbybedo (~3.5k)

[“Why are you here?” Diluc asked the pane of glass in front of him. Kaeya took a moment to consider his response before speaking.

“The Knights of Favonius are trained to handle mental health emergencies, if the need for that arises. I’m simply here to make sure you aren’t going to put yourself in harm’s way, Master Diluc.”]

tw warning: read the tags. deals with self-harm, suicide attempt, etc.

when the dusk draws on by yesitsalsoagun (~27k)

A week after a relatively confusing clash with the Abyss Order, Diluc is overcome by a mysterious creeping cold. Surely there's no connection between the two...?

[There is. There absolutely is.]

[scenarioslovers]

Early bird (EXO-Kai)

Hi I found this in my draft. Probably wrote it 2 years ago. Cannot really remember why I never posted it. Anyway here it is. I hope you like

PS . You can send in your scenarios requests

Genre: fluff, more fluff, just fluff and love.

Your eyes were wide open.

Your heart was beating so fast as if you were running and sweat dripping from your forehead.

The bed was warm. The sun hasn't rose yet but a faint of morning light started to proceed. Everything was fine but you were still scared, stunned to move or get up.

It was this dream again. A dream that kept you from sleeping these past couple of weeks.

The earth was collapsing. Everything around you was melting and everyone was screaming and running. Airplans flew in the air sending more fires on the people living on the airs. And it was just horrifing watching the buildings and the people melt like a piece of iron. You always woke up after dying in each dream.

When your heart calmed down, recognizing that you were still alive and it was just a dream, you settled yourself up as you tried fill your lungs with air. You were alive. Earth is still there. War hasn't broken yet.

You looked to your side where your boyfriend, Jongin was sleeping, not noticing that you woke up from yet another nightmare. He never noticed and you never told him. Jongin was the kind that hard to wake up and you didn't want to worry him about some dreams that did not make anything.

(Everything is okay. You watch too much movies. It is okay.) You told yourself as you slid yourself next to Jongin, wrapping your arms around his waist and burring your face into his bare back. (Everything is okay.) You tried hard not to let these dreams get the worst of you.

After an hour with no plans to return back to your nighmare, you decided it was the time for you to get ready and get ready for your classes even though your first class would be at 11 AM.

Doing some early morning excersis to get rid of all the negative thoughts from your nightmare, taking shower then preparing breakfast for two people, you and your boyfriend was the best way to act as if everything was fine.

Heading to the bedroom, Jongin was still fast asleep. You envied his sleeping ability. Placing a soft kiss on his check, didn't even make him flinsh. There was no room for a romantic good morning between both of you. Rolling your eyes, you pulled the blanket away from his body and made the AC colder. It was this way or the other (which was pulling him out of the bed) to wake him up.

After five minutes, Jongin started to shiver and finally waking up.

"Good morning, sleepy head." You said with a sly smile.

"Hey!" He frowned, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. His voice was the deepest in the morning with a hint of annoyance. "Stop doing this every morning. It is cold."

"Only if you wake up like every human being."

Jongin nodded in agreement as he sat on the edge of the bed. He finally smiled at you, opening his arms wide in the air. "Come here." So you gladly walked over to him and let him pull you with him on the bed. A kiss on your lips, then on your cheeks back on your lips again. You giggled with each kiss as your nightmare disappeared at the back of your memory.

With him around there was nothing to worry about.

You and Jongin dated back from high school days. 3 years ago. Now you were a college student and Jongin decided to pursued his dream to become a dance. It was risky to date someone with unknown future as dancing doesn't bring money but you loved him too much to care. Even if your parent didn't like him, it was enough that you were happy with him by your side.

"You woke up early." He said, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ears.

"School."

"Your class starts at 11 though."

"I am an early bird." You said with a smile and he raised an eyebrow.

"Since when?"

"Today?"

"Don't exhuist yourself, early bird." He chuckled shaking his head, placing on last kiss on your lips before getting out of the bed and getting to shower.

Looking through the window, there was still no sign of the sun. The sky was gloomy. Heavy cluds filled the horizon and birds were flying frustratingly in every direction, scared of the promised rains, trying to find a place to hide.

"Will it rain?" You half turned to find Jongin half naked with a towel wrapped around his neck. You were always amazed with his showering spead. You wondered if it was really faster to take a shower if you were a man.

"It seems like it will." You sighed as you looked through the window.

As much as you loved this kind of weather you hoped it wasn't that day out of all the days. It made you uncomfortable and somehow your heart ached.

"Don't forget your umbrella." You said as you pulled close the curtains.

"Look who is talking." He pulled you closer for another quick kiss. "I will be late tonight."

"Huh?" You tilted your head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

"I promised the others that we will practice the whole night. The show is coming up soon." He explained, somehow not meeting your eyes.

You smiled as you ruffled his hair. "Good luck, my man."

His smile widened as his grip around you tightened and this time he pressed his lips against yours for a few seconds longer. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[cartierbin]

pls could you do a dilf!minho smut? haha your dilf ones are so good

ofc baby. tysm.

『 pairing — minho x reader

genre — smut, + dilf!minho but sex therapist type shit

word count — 1.532k 』

smut under the cut !

“I don’t know what it is to be quite honest with you”. you muttered, fiddling your fingers and hastily checking the clock every five minutes. it could’ve been any minute until your husband came home, and you knew he was going to ask you where you were. the last thing you wanted to say was that you were out in the late hours of the night, seeking help from your therapist. especially your sex therapist.

dr. lee minho shifts a little his seat, his muscular yet lean body complimented his grey suit perfectly, and his circular lenses made him look that much more enticing. his jet black hair was parted to the left without flaw. your therapist was sexy and he knew it. and most importantly you knew it. It was hard to believe this was a man with three children. he glides his tongue over the span of his parched lips and continued scribbling in his notes. when his eyes focused back on you they were serious. for some reason whenever he gazed at you it almost looked as if he was reading you, like he was prepared to tell you your future out of a crystal ball. he held knowledge and wisdom in his eyes even if he didn’t say much of anything. “what you have to understand is that communication in the bedroom is really essential. if you and your partner are not communicating then you will never get what you need”. he always talked with his hands too, he was confident with every word and it’s clear that he knew what he was talking about. and if he wasn’t he was for damn sure good at hiding his uncertainty. “that’s the thing I don’t know where to start. I ask him if he wants to try new things but he turns all of my ideas down and I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’m afraid if this continues I don’t think this relationship would last. does that sound childish of me? shifting away from him because of the sex?”.

“baby what I need you to do first is stop tearing yourself down with this. don’t invalidate your feelings. sex in a relationship is just as important as everything else and we’re only humans, we have needs. and we want our partners to be able to meet them. I think your dilemma is stemming from the fact that you think you’re being too pushy if you ask for more. and you need to stop that”. it wasn’t until you started coming to his sessions where you realized someone could talk in such a demanding tone but yet so loving. he never spoke as if he knew it all even though he did, but he spoke as if he sincerely loved you and only wanted the best for you. you nod at his response taking heed to his advice. he continues, “and once you stop that you’ll be able to ask without that weighty feeling on your shoulders”. you nod yet again, all of a sudden feeling kind of fidgety and anxious. “so where do I began?”. he places his notepad on the table beside him and stands to his feet, ushering you over with a hand. when you stood up you were fairly intimidated by his austere demeanor. you knew he was probably a playful man outside of the office but in it, he was much different. he guided you to the long mirror between two potted plants, making you stand right in front of him. you practically shuddered once you gazed right past your reflection and directly at his while he was standing directly behind you.

“loosen up a little. we’re going to do an exercise”. you nod, “what is it?”. he licks his lips again and makes a ponytail out of your hair, bringing it all behind your shoulders so you could get a clear view of yourself. you grew hot in the face from his gestures. “I’m going to be your husband. and you’re going to look into this mirror and tell me what you want more of. no matter what is it I’ll have to listen to you. this will help you gain confidence in yourself so when it happens in real time you’ll be prepared and not embarrassed when you hear yourself”. your heart steadily pounded at his request. you kindly obliged to his orders. “before we start I’d like to know if it’s okay to touch you?”. you agreed to that request as well, not really caring where and how. you weren’t prepared for him to immediately attached his lips to your neck, peppering specks of kisses along the coast of your shoulders. his lips were so gentle and heedful, kind of like the way he spoke. you stood there for a while tensed, not knowing what to do and being absolutely frozen on the tingling feelings his lips left you with. he spoke into his next kiss, “go on, tell me what you want”. your eyes fell to his veiny calloused hands and you couldn’t believe what you were about to say but you had to say it. it was apart of the exercise after all. “I want you to touch me”. you admitted weakly, your voice going hoarse between syllables. you were nervous and you didn’t know what to expect. his mouth moved further up your neck and you could see his arm slither around your waist to the front button of your jeans, undoing them and zipping down your zipper. you stopped breathing completely once he crammed his hand inside the front of your panties.

“stop sounding like that. control your voice”. he demanded, you gulped hard and twitched when you felt his fingertips rub the surface of your already moistened folds. “rub my clit please”. you sort of whined. he followed suit, circling it around lazily. your heart was throbbing in your ears. he wasn’t even doing much and it felt fucking good. you drew in a sharp breath, realizing that watching yourself get touched in a mirror was ten times hotter than you thought it would be. he swivels his head over to the other side of your neck, catching abandoned spots of skin in between his lips to suck. “this is all you want baby?”. he spoke in a tone so dark you wanted to just fall to your knees. you were already starting to throb at his gestures. “can you rub it faster please?”. you stutter, mentally cursing at yourself for doing so and being oblivious to the fact that minho thought it was kind of sexy. he does so. “don’t leave it at that. tell me how wet you are. tell me what your pussy feels like”. he could feel his fingers becoming slippery with your slick, it was getting harder and harder to rub you. It turned him on but it was only obvious, you felt his bulge poking you from behind. you breathed, “my pussy is throbbing so hard I’m getting so wet-“. he languidly tongue kisses your jawline and an overwhelming wave washed over your body. “mm what do you need?”. electricity courses through your torso. it was hot the way his mouth moved passionately against your skin as if he’s known it for years. “I need you to stick your fingers inside me please”. with no hesitation he sunk his fingers into your hole going a bit deeper than he intended, but nonetheless proud of himself for making you arch your back against him. he could feel your slick sliding down his knuckles. “shit”. he unexpectedly groans, revealing to you how much he actually enjoyed this.

you shut your eyes tight while his fingers delve inside you steadily and pulled out at a measured pace. you began to whine and rub your ass against him in the process. “open your eyes for me. I want you to see yourself”. his voice made you want to collapse and his fingers moved so smoothly inside you you were starting think that he went to school for this. they were magic in between your legs and you didn’t want him to stop. your eyes fluttered open, one after the other and your mouth hung open. “tell me how it feels”. by now his lips was so close to your mouth you just wanted him to kiss you already. it was a tease the way his mouth ran over everything but your lips. but it was hard to ask for that when you were prompted with another question. you could barely think with him touching you like this. “it feels— it feels so fucking good oh my god”. the whimper in your eyes is what drove him insane. you looked so needy and burdened with want he wondered how and why your husband wasn’t doing this to you already. your thighs were threatened to clasp around his wrist, you didn’t know if you could take much more. his other hand snakes up your shirt and grasps your naked breasts, massaging one and pulling and tugging on your nipples. the feelings were foreign, your husband usually filled one night with one of these motions. It was never everything happening all at once like this. your pants became quicker, “faster”. you hummed, becoming more confident with your demands. you watched the outline of his fingers in your panties hastening their pace, finger fucking you at an intensity that had you reaching back just to clutch the fabric on his shoulder. you could wrap your mind around how perfect and skilled he was at doing this, well you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything for that matters. your head falls back into the crook of his neck and you reached down the grip his moving wrist. “fuck I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum so hard”. he sticks his tongue in your mouth and performs the hottest kiss you’ve ever felt in your married life. “yes keep talking like that”. he exhales sounding just as winded and breathless as you were. “I don’t think I can take it please my pussy is throbbing too hard”. you whine at the top of your lungs feeling his fingers deeper inside you. you could feel the palm of his hand rubbing your ass a little. “there you go, cum down my fingers”. he demands licking and sucking the skin of your neck until your eyes rolled to the back of your head in a mind blowing orgasm.

you were still bucking inside his hand as he rubbed all of the aftershocks right out of you, enjoying how much you were cumming especially since it was the first time you’ve came like that in years. you were limp and weak, and you just knew that your husband probably already texted you about twenty times trying to figure out where you were but you didn’t care. minho sneaks kisses to your hot earlobe. “from a professional standpoint I’m proud of you for speaking up for what you wanted. but aside from me being your therapist that was so fucking sexy”.

[silkylious]

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.” (Lucifer x Reader)

fandom: obey me! shall we date?

pairing: lucifer x gn reader

warnings: angst, fluff (mildly lol), suggestive (nothing explicit though!), bittersweet, ambiguous ending (??), unedited 

wc: 2.1k

“Lucifer?” you called out to him on a whim, eyes trailing the seconds ticking away on his grandfather-clock.

“Yes?” he didn’t spare you a glance as he worked methodically through his second hill of paperwork; a heaping stack of duties assigned to him by Diavolo, endless bills–a consequence of Mammon’s latest spending spree, you ought to talk to him about those soon–and the sort piled neatly on his pristine desk, slowly but surely decreasing in size as Lucifer burned through the tedious task with unwavering efficiency. You felt exhausted just watching him work. Lucifer? He hadn’t so much as blinked more than three times in the past five minutes (yes, you counted). Obsidian sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, hair perfectly framing his face with one strand slightly out of place–hot–and a gentle crease between his brows (the only observable hint alluding to the mounting stress on his shoulders). He looked positively delectable, nothing like someone who’s been working diligently for hours without any breaks. But that just served as a testament to the fundamental difference between the two of you, you supposed.

“I’m in love with you,”

That made his meticulous fingers pause in their tracks.

“Pardon?”

As it turned out, his ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived him. You repeated the confession as if it weighed nothing on your tongue. You were strangely calm given the words you’d just blurted out; he almost didn’t recognize you. An unfamiliar shade of desperation painted all over your face, and yet your voice bared to him a serene conviction, one he’d never heard from you before. Lucifer’s heartbeat stumbled in your wake.

Basking in your courageous display just a second longer, he sighed. Too bad he’d have to mutilate such a pretty sight so soon.

That didn’t go exactly as he’d planned. The harsh rejection barely deterred you, leaving only a petulant pout on your lips and a promise that you’d come talk to him later.

Lucifer was anything but stupid. He knew that he let things stray too far between you, knew it was his fault for not pulling away from your kisses and instead indulging you (and himself) to the fullest. His fault for ignoring the guilt that settled deep in his gut like hunks of steel when you looked at him like he’d never experienced before. Lucifer had lived for many millennia, had relished the warmth of countless passionate lovers and faceless hookups, none of which had ever set him alight from the inside out like your adoring gaze had. It terrified him how after all these years, watching humans thrive and collapse over and over again, he thought he’d seen everything there is to see, all that humans had to offer. And then you come along, reinventing what love meant right before his eyes, with a simple look no less.

He never intended for you to fall in love with him, and he never intended to reciprocate. Had he been mortal, maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. But life dealt a cruel hand, and he wasn’t. A relationship like yours was doomed to crumble in heartache from the start, it was best to stop it before things went too far. That was the plan anyway.

You didn’t share the same sentiment.

With one last exasperated sigh, Lucifer focused his attention back on his duties. He didn’t know how long he could hold up against your persistence, and honestly he preferred not to dwell on it. Whatever outcome lied for the both of you in the near future, itching one step closer with each tick on the clock, he’d face it head on when it was time.

Meanwhile, you laid wide awake, in your bed, rethinking every decision that led you here. You didn’t regret your confession, nor were you keen on giving up, but Lucifer’s ruthless rejection, his vehement claim that a relationship between a human and a demon is destined to end in tragedy festered a bud of doubt in you. You noted pettily that he hadn’t outright denied any feelings for you. How could he? Lucifer was many, ugly things but a liar’s not one of them; you wouldn’t believe him even if he did lie, not with how delicately he holds your hand in his gloved one, not with how heartbreakingly beautiful he was when he lets you in at his lowest, stripped completely of his pride.

You knew though, that as much as Lucifer was a creature of the past, he was a creature of regrets.

Somehow, you’d managed to reach the heart of the Avatar of Pride himself, bestowing a porcelain touch on it and subsequently rocking the monotony of his endless life. Despite the acknowledgment of both your feelings, you weren’t naïve enough to dismiss how his heart drums thousands of years apart from yours and would continue to do so long after yours gave its last valiant pump.

He was a creature of the past you realized; humans intently watch minutes, hours, years approach because there’s only so much of them live out, there’s only so much to do in a lifetime. Naturally it would be counterintuitive to waste scarce time on the past. The immortal have no such concern. When time is limitless, and life is all but a blur of recycled events, its only instinctive to lose interest in what’s to come. And you guessed, maybe there was a strange comfort in the predictability of eternity, maybe that’s why Lucifer was so offput by the notion of something serious yet temporary, especially romance.

You decided. You wouldn’t let him look back and ponder what ifs in that stubborn head of his, not while you were still breathing. With regained determination, you glanced one last time at your countertop alarm and entered a dreamless slumber.

Not even two days later, three consecutive raps on his door made Lucifer rub at his temples for the nth time and begrudgingly called for you to enter. Piled on his desk were several stacks of papers (as was the usual), though, that night he was in a particularly sour mood. Ever since your confession, he’d been feeling uneasy, Diavolo hurling more work at him last minute was only pushing him to his wit’s end.

“Lucifer,” he hummed in response, not bothering to conceal his growing agitation. “we need to talk,”

Ah, there it was. He was wondering when you’d confront him again.

“I believe I made myself quite clear last time,” he sighed, dropping his pen and finally meeting your eyes. “If this is about your feelings again then I’m sorry but I can’t–”

“But why? Can you really say that what we have isn’t special at all?” your lower lip quivered just a bit and Lucifer had to fight the immediate reflex of holding you close and hushing your worries. His impassiveness quickly arose frustration out of you. “God Damnit, Lucifer! All I want is to be with you while I still can! To die with no regrets, knowing you’ll be there with me, but it’s very fucking hard to do that when you’re too scared of the future to do something about–about us!”

It was a low blow to go after his pride, you knew that, but he wasn’t giving you much to work with.. Rubbing salt in a ghastly wound had certainly done the trick, the dimmed crimson that pooled just below his pupil began to shine scarlet. You would have found it gorgeous had it not been imbued with near murderous intent. Lucifer’s poker face was rapidly breaking, a horrid mix of anger and melancholy sat heavy in his throat. He was looking straight at you, but his eyes were somewhere else, some time else. He was staring hundreds of years behind you at an unhealed, poorly bandaged cut. An everlasting guilt he carried with him everywhere.

“What would you know about regret?” he breathed out the words like they’re bullets, whatever restraint he’d managed to scarp together deteriorating. He stepped closer, each stride bigger than the last as he closed the distance between you, a perfect diamond manifesting on his forehead and you could see the beginnings of black feathers sprouting from his back. “Do you have the slightest clue what a blessing mortality is? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to live with your regrets and not be able to die with them?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you stood your ground. “But, do you really want to live with one more regret to bear?”

He kissed you. He kissed you like he hated you, animosity and anger and pain and, most prominently, pining spilling from his lips. Lucifer parted from you just as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, taking the time to let his irritation bleed out of him, until he was left grappling with (frankly terrifying) longing and adoration. Just this once, he’d take a leap of faith, he’d break his own rigorous code and take the risk of undying heartache in the future to be with you in the now.

One kiss turned into many, and soon you found yourselves stumbling your way from his office to his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of you, the thought that some day he would be deprived of you broke him and made him yearn to cherish you just as much. Precious things aren’t meant for longevity, he learned. All the more reason to treasure them when given the chance. You were pushed onto his bed and not once did his hands and mouth and breath leave your skin; he couldn’t bear sever that connection.

Before long, your hands were pined to the mattress, fingers tightly laced with his as if he was petrified the moment will break and a thousand years would pass you by the instant he let go.

“I love you. Truly and deeply.”

Neither of you heard the clock strike midnight.

Lucifer was well-acquainted with sleepless nights. He was no stranger to the prick at the corner of his eye, excruciatingly familiar with midnight’s cold, lonely touch. But this one was different. Where usually lied a cool emptiness in his sheets, your warm, inviting body was just in reach. Where the corners of his mind were usually plagued by past mistakes and sorrowful repentance, you were all he could think about. He reflected on your words now that the high of emotions had worn off. He still disagreed with you on many things and, if he was being true to himself, it would take more than one night to abandon his reluctance, much more. But he was willing to put in his fair share of effort. He was willing to do many things for you, he mused. You were right about one thing though, regardless of whether or not he acted on his feelings, your parting would hurt all the same. Part of him was still resentful that he let himself fall so deeply in love with you, and a part of him knew it couldn’t be helped. You’d carved a home for yourself out of his heart, invited yourself in and declared pompously you’d be there to stay, and he’d be damned to hell all over again if he said he didn’t like that.

Pulling you closer to leech off your warmth, for the first time in forever, he dreamt of the future, a future with you.

Snapping out his reverie, Lucifer refocused his vision on the framed picture before him. It’s been a couple dozen years, the pain dulled into a hollow longing, and yet not a single regret weighed on his back. He was astonished, how you, who had lived but a fraction of his own lifetime, had such impeccable foresight. He lays in bed every night and morning thanking you for not giving up, knowing that if you had, he’d be spending the rest of his infinite days in self-loathing regret.

All Lucifer could ask for now is a little guidance. What was he to do now? Was he even capable of falling in love again after you? Would he allow it? All questions that began frequenting his head since you’re no longer there to occupy it. He only knew is that he’d love you, and love you, and love you until this world fell apart. He toyed with the idea of reincarnation. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; he saw you in everything he did. Strange how you’d taught him more about appreciating every day’s mundanities than he had in the many eons he’s been alive. Lucifer wonders about the possibility of you donning the same white wings he once had back in the Celestial Realm. If you ever did, he wonders about the complications that would arise from that, he wonders if you’d even remember him. All Lucifer was left with was a simple truth. If you ever came back, whichever form you may take, he’d welcome you back into the adobe of his heart without a second thought.

He ran his thumb over your smile, a bittersweet acceptance in his own.

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.”

Obey me! taglist: @katsucookie @strwbry-m1lk​ (you wanted to be tagged in this one lol) join my taglist here! <3

[fruitcoops]

Can I please ask for some protective Cubs and/or Coops. I adore these boys and I love the fics where they always have each other’s backs. It could be a similar situation to Remus and that Stan guy or something different. No pressure or anything and if you don’t vibe with this prompt don’t stess bestie

Yes, I love protective Lions! For the anon whose meds got mixed up: I'm so sorry that happened, and I hope this provides the comfort you were looking for in the form of Cub lovin' <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for panic attacks, forgetting to eat a healthy meal

It was Sirius who noticed first. Then Remus. Then Finn.

He was still kicking himself over that one, to be honest.

Sirius moved like a solid wall, murmuring in quiet French as he led Logan out of the gym and into the hall with Remus hot on their heels. A pang hit Finn right in the heart—I want to understand, he thought, fervent and afraid as he set the jump rope down. I would build the Tower of Babel again to understand how to help.

His pulse picked up; sweat itched at his forehead even after he stopped exercising. “Something’s wrong,” Leo said under his breath as they hurried into the hall.

Obviously, Finn bit back. He should have known since the second Logan started snapping his fingers in a nervous tic, should have seen the fucking signs—

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously from the weight bench where he laid. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Just—just hang on a second.”

“Respire.” Sirius sat crosslegged across from Logan, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned his head against the wall about ten feet from the door. “Logan, respire.”

A gentle but firm hand moved Finn out of the way by his shoulder; Remus slipped past them with a cup of water. “Drink this,” he ordered as he took Logan’s twitching hand between his own. “Open your eyes if you can.”

“Gonna throw up,” Logan managed, his voice high and reedy.

“Lo?” Finn’s mouth was dry. Logan hadn’t had a panic attack since their last year at Harvard together—he barely remembered what to do.

Logan’s chest caved at the sound of his voice, and one pale green eye cracked open to stare at him in sheer terror. “Finn. Finn, it’s happening, I don’t know what to do—”

“Move.” Finn’s throat hurt, but his brain kicked into autopilot. I can fix this. “Leo, get some damp paper towels from the break room. Cap, give him space.”

Leo disappeared from his stunned place by his side; after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius held his hands up and backed away. Logan was still gripping Remus’ hand with white knuckles. “How do I help?” Remus asked as soon as Finn knelt next to Logan.

“Grab some more water, and granola bars.” Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and cupped the side of Logan’s face. He had never allowed himself to do it at Harvard, but Logan always came back to himself quicker with a grounding touch. “Logan, can you look at me for a second?”

He shook his head. “Gonna throw up.”

“Alright.” With a shaky exhale, Logan leaned into his palm. “There you go, good job. Are you still dizzy?”

“Little bit.”

Past adrenaline rush, past collapsing, moving through dizziness. Finn ran through his mental checklist like it was just yesterday that Logan had crumbled after a bad game in from of scouts. “Cap was right, you need to breathe. I’ll do it with you, okay?”

He watched Logan’s chest move up and down, erratic at first before slowing to match Finn’s steady pace. Something damp and cool brushed against his free hand and he pressed the paper towel to Logan’s forehead, then kissed Leo’s cheek in gratitude as he sat down. “What happened, love?”

Logan swallowed hard and licked his lips, but his eyes were opening. “Dunno. I was almost at the end of my reps. I was fine.”

“Did you eat?” Sirius asked quietly to his left, waiting with his arms crossed. Despite his stance, he didn’t look angry.

“Bagel for breakfast. Coffee.”

His mouth tilted down. “That’s not enough.”

“Desole.”

“We’re not upset,” Finn assured him, sliding the makeshift washcloth to his temple. “Just worried.”

“It’s really warm in here,” Logan panted. His pupils had dilated so far they almost masked the green entirely. Past dizziness, into dehydration. “Is anyone else warm?”

Finn’s sweat was already cooling on his body as he handed him the water glass. “Drink.”

In twenty seconds, half of it was gone. A decent amount spilled over the front of Logan’s shirt from his shaking hands, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Leo’s whole face was lined with concern. “Better?”

“Oui.”

Finn glanced up at the others and gave them a quick nod. We’ve got him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Remus passed him a couple energy bars before heading back into the gym. Logan’s breaths were coming easier; they waited in silence until the rest of the water was gone and his face regained some of its color. “You can’t skip breakfast on heavy workout days, Lo,” Finn said, folding his legs under himself. “You know that’s how these get triggered.”

“It’s been long enough that I thought I’d be alright.”

“Does this happen a lot with you?” Leo asked. Insecurity flickered over his face and Finn felt a stab of guilt.

Thankfully, Logan shook his head. “Not for a while. They used to, back in school.”

“Then why’d you skip breakfast if you knew it might happen?”

“I slept weird. Didn’t wake up hungry, and by the time I was, we had to go.”

“We can take another five or ten minutes to make sure you eat instead of having a panic attack.” Just to make that extremely clear, he added in his mind. “For future reference.”

Logan’s nose twitched as he looked toward the gym door. “Sorry for interrupting your practice.”

“Health comes first,” Leo said firmly. “Practice won’t ever be more important than your safety.”

“It’s our job—”

Finn held his hands up in a timeout motion. “Panic attacks aren’t something we fuck around with, remember? The guys will understand. Coach will understand. Besides, we’re your boyfriends. It’s our job to take care of you when you’re feeling shitty.”

Logan looked between them, sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on both their shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Leo said into the soft skin of his neck with a light kiss.

Finn rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand and buried his face Logan’s slightly-sweaty curls. “Love you, three. Ready to head back in?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass in squats.”

Leo snorted. “Bold of you to assume Cap’s letting you near anything heavy for the next 24 hours.”

“That assumes he lets you in the gym at all,” Finn amended.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m sure he’ll believe you, after you’ve been cleared by every doctor in a four-mile radius.”

“I’ll make him let me in.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Finn laughed. He internally cheered at the rosy splotches of temper that lived a semi-permanent life on Logan’s cheeks.

Leo nodded. “A true battle of wills.”

Logan’s jaw ticked at the side. “You’re the worst boyfriends ever.”

“Nah, we’re just protecting you from your big bad older brother who is fully capable of banning you from the gym if you don’t play your cards right.” They heaved him to his feet by his hands; if Finn spent a little extra time dusting his back and thighs off, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Are you done?” Logan asked with clear amusement written all over his face.

“I’m protecting the booty,” Finn said solemnly. Next to him, Leo fought a valiant battle against the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s a very important booty, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Pancake O’Hara.” With a playful smack to his—admittedly lacking, in comparison—rear end, Logan strolled back down the hall to the gym and pulled the door open.

“Yoga mats,” Sirius said without preamble. Leo clamped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in Finn’s shoulder.

“But—”

“Yoga mats. If you even breathe on the weights, I swear to god I’ll sit on you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius narrowed his eyes down the hall. “You two have absolutely no excuse to chill out here. Congrats, Harzy, your rotation for the bench press just started. Knutty, Bliz is waiting for you by the ice baths.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned.

Even Sirius looked sympathetic as he moved aside to let Logan in. “It’s only fifteen minutes. You’ll sur—Logan, put that down!”

[filterjeons]

private show | jjk

✦ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

✦ summary: throughout your relationship, you never thought jungkook would ask a certain type of action from you. however, you take it into consideration...without the intention of him nearly catching you

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 7.4k

✦ warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, tsundere!reader, rough & unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!!), dirty talk, degradation bc im a whore for that, masterbation, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial

Honestly, you didn’t know what you did in your past life to earn a man like Jungkook but you weren’t complaining one bit anyways. By just one look at you, people assumed you weren’t the type to have a boyfriend and you would spend the rest of your life alone. Luckily, you managed to prove them all wrong by being with someone who loved you for the way you were instead of your money. 

It was a blessing and a curse to be born into a rich family of doctors who expected you to be the heir of the family hospital. Despite having your future already planned for you, you fell in love with playing the violin after being introduced to it when you were young. The feeling of holding the violin against your jaw as the bow ran across the strings to produce a classical melody that you’ve familiarized yourself with throughout the years. 

You would much rather be at a violin recital in a beautiful dress playing one of Bach’s sonatas than being cooped up in your room studying biology. However, your parents didn’t feel the same way. 

When you were about 6, you ranked second at a competition against tons of kids who were in their later-preteens but that wasn’t enough to prove to your parents how much you loved music. They took it as a sign of failure because “it’s not being first” and always used that argument against you to emphasize on how you have to be at the top of your class. 

“Mommy! Guess what, I got second place! Second out of a bunch of bigger kids! I didn’t expect-” you squealed, kicking the back of the limo’s glass partition. Instead of candy, you were buzzing with excitement due to how well you placed in your county’s music recital. But what you didn’t know was that even a place close to first was never enough. “Why didn’t you get first?” 

As those words ran through your ears, you felt your blood run cold and the eyes that were dancing of excitement and joy started to dull. You clutched your certificate tightly, tears starting to swell up. 

“That’s because there was a sixth grader who was better than me and she was really good, she can play the piano-” “You see, if you can’t get first then you shouldn’t pursue a career in music. It’s too hard and competitive for you anyways. How about you focus on your studies, especially since you’re going to take over the hospital when you’re older.” 

Up until last year which was your freshman year of college, you obeyed them by devoting your time to studying and only treating music as just a hobby while you hide your feelings along the way. Now that you think about it, you barely had friends during high school since every break period, you were always alone in the music room and you were too stubborn to go up to people. The only reason why you would talk to someone is to work on a group project but it ended up being that you would do all of the work while they slack off. 

Everyday felt dull and uninteresting, especially since you’re being put in a fate that you don’t even want. But like some stupid cliche, it all changed ever since you met him. 

You didn’t even intend to meet him, hell you barely knew he existed. But the night of your chemistry midterm, the apartment next to you decided to have a party which most of the school is invited to and blast loud music that could be heard from the next town over. 

It couldn’t get any worse as you were already stressed from college and your parent’s crazy expectations and you were definitely not failing otherwise you’re dead meat. Normally, you would just try to sleep it out with earplugs but since you barely ate anything but coffee and granola bars and you were tired from the 24 hour studying, that was your last straw. So you did the thing a person would do in your situation: marching over to the party in your purple star-printed nightgown to give them a piece of your mind. 

Already at the door, you could feel people’s stares burn into you, due to why you came to the party when you didn’t bother interacting with people and why you were in your pajamas. Maybe people were going to talk about you on Instagram but you didn’t care, you just wanted to ensure that you have enough sleep so you could at least pass. 

Unfortunately for you, you must’ve looked extremely stupid because you were wandering around the same area like a drunk man. Random people did offer to get you a drink but you declined; after all it was a school night. Eventually you gave up trying to even bother talking after seeing the host, local frat boy Jackson Wang, surrounded by the rest of the partygoers in a beer pong game. 

Frustrated and exhausted, you hauled yourself up to a seemingly empty room and collapsed onto the bed. Not only did you enter a college party in your pajamas but you wasted precious time studying over something idiotic like this. With all of these negative emotions inside of you, screaming inside a pillow was the first thing that came into your mind. And unfortunately, someone had to be the witness of your near mental breakdown. 

“Woah, is everything okay?” a velvety voice chuckled, patting your back slightly. Well, another reason why your night is absolute shit. You turned your face up to chew off the mysterious person but for some reason, your voice was all caught up in your throat. 

He was different, different from all of the boys that ever interacted with you. Despite you being a complete loner, the guys in your high school tried to hook up with you but you were never interested. They stunk of axe and the only reason why they’re “popular” is because they were on a sports team. Besides, you were too busy in your academics to even think about dating. 

You couldn’t really see him but the guy who’s in the room with you looks better than every single guy in your high school combined: his long dark hair in a mini-ponytail contrasting with his cute bunny-like face. 

“Wh-who are you?” “Jeon Jungkook. I’m a member of the boxing team and my family owns a records shop downtown. What about you?” 

“I-i-” “Aren’t you Y/N, the smart girl who doesn’t talk to anybody and spends her time either studying or in the music room with her violin?” Thank god the room is dark because your face was burning up badly. Barely anyone knew you and if they did, they had bad things to say about you because you were so quiet and boring. However, what he said was a fact and you shouldn’t blame him for having an impression on you due to what other people said. It hurted nonetheless though, especially since he was a part of a sports team. 

“Yeah, that���s me. What do you want? If it’s homework answers, then fine!” you snapped, immediately standing up and walking away. You were absolutely done with this night, all you wanted to do is sleep so you have some sanity tomorrow. 

“You sure are feisty. It’s cute,” he said with a cocky grin stuck on his face. Oh, how you wanted to slap it off. 

“If you’re asking me out, I’m not interested!” you fought back. Although you were one step out of the door, something about him made you want to stay. Like you wanted to talk to him. 

“I didn’t say anything about that but if you want it that way-”

“No! I-I’m sorry for acting all rude, I’m just having a really bad night and I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone,” you mumbled, turning on the light. Oh how it was a bad idea..

Now that you could really see his face clearly, your heart felt like it was about to explode. He was dressed in a simple all-black T-shirt and jeans with combat boots to match. What really captivated you were the tattoos on his hand and up to his elbow, each symbol and design etched out beautifully which must’ve taken hours. 

Although you were at least wearing clothes, you felt exposed due to the stupid pajamas you have on. He somehow sensed your embarrassment and gave you a small smirk which made it ten times worse. 

“Well, do you want to explain why you were screaming in a pillow earlier?” Normal you definitely wouldn’t spill her feelings to a hot guy she just met five minutes ago but with him, you felt safe. Like for one night, all your worries and feelings are immediately gone and it’s just you and him. 

Was this the stupid shit they call “love at first sight”? 

“My midterm is tomorrow and I can’t sleep from all of the noise so I came here to yell at the host of the party. Jackson Wang, fuck you and your decision to host a party today,” you sighed, settling yourself next to him. You would expect him to immediately laugh and make fun of you since it was something a lot of people did to you whenever you cared about your grades. Instead, he looked at you with understandment and listened to what you had to say. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I went to this stupid party in the first place,” he replied, making you snort out a laugh. As you were trying to collect yourself from his statement, Jungkook’s mouth turned up into a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that. Anyways, I guess I should get going since I have a big day ahead of me,” you smiled, feeling a small weight being lifted off of your shoulders. As you trudge out the door, Jungkook’s arm stops yours for a second. 

“Do you think I can have your phone number? Not for dating but you sound like a really cool person to be around and no offense but you seem lonely.” “Thanks for the compliment. But here you go,” you said sarcastically, scribbling down your phone number on a random piece of stationary in the drawer next to the bed. Maybe this is all a fever dream, maybe you’re hallucinating due to how little sleep you’ve gotten during midterm week. 

“I’ll see you soon…” he waved you goodbye as you gave a final look at the door. He was interesting but now isn’t the time to be distracted! You’re pretty sure that if you pinch yourself, you’ll be back in your dorm since this is just a dream? “Also, d-don’t take it the wrong way! It’s not like I like you or anything! I just wrote down my number because you asked nicely! We’re never going to date!” Not only did you pass your midterm but your last line to Jungkook in the stuffy college party would become your famous last words. 

It’s been years since you and Jungkook met at that party and a lot has changed then. You started to grow feelings and date him a few weeks after your midterm, eventually making the relationship official in a month. After a few months into dating, he introduced his parents to you first. They were a sweet family with amazing home cooked meals which you were dying to recreate and luckily, they accepted you with open arms. 

However, him meeting your parents wasn’t that smooth. Now that you look back on that day, not only were you permanently deciding to be with the one that you love but it also felt like you were breaking free out of the shell that your parents trapped you in because you didn’t want to go down the path they set for you. 

You shook your head to yourself, not wanting to be reminded of the painful past. Now, you were a violinist playing in recitals and companies and Jungkook was running his parent’s record shop. You were happy and you didn’t care about what your stupid parents think. They can simply ask someone else to run the hospital and it’ll still be fine. 

As soon as the practice track ended, you turned off the metronome and packed your violin away. The apartment that you and Jungkook shared was average-sized, a notable difference from the mansion you used to live in but it was better. You were with the person you love and that’s all you could ever need. It may sound corny but a simple life with him was all you ever wanted. 

After you pack away your violin, you impatiently wait alongside the door for Jungkook to get home. Right now, he has boxing practice for a match next week and he wanted to stay with his teammate Taehyung to be the best that he can but he’s stopping by for a day. You’re not into boxing but like the good girlfriend you were, you attend most of his matches (some conflicted with your performances) and cheer him on. 

Although you miss having him by your side, you’re also aware of how much boxing means to him as it was a break from the hectic life of owning a music store. Another positive in your new life was the amount of music there was, a good break from the science and math that filled your childhood. 

You heard some jiggling among the door locks and surely enough, Jungkook’s handsome face was in your view. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt and some blue jeans, a very simple outfit after spending most of his time at the boxing gym. 

“Hey baby,” he cooed, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“Hi. I’m so happy you’re back, I was starting to worry that you forgot about me,” you joked, carrying his boxing bag to your shared bedroom with him tagging behind. 

“You know I would never forget about you,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the back of your neck. Instead of wriggling away like you normally do, you allow yourself to relish in his affection since he wasn’t a person who did it often. 

“I missed you..” you mumbled, turning around and kissing him. He returned the kiss more passionately, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The sudden action made you forget about everything, focusing only on him. Unfortunately, with your senses locked on him, it caused you to fall onto the bed, your head nearly hanging off of the edge. Jungkook used your weakness to have more control over the kiss and you, carefully grabbing the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Even though he always controls kissing you, his lips are also full of love and longing due to him being gone for too long. 

“God I missed this,” he mumbled, breaking away to remove the buttons of your blouse and kissing the side of your neck. You whined from his touch, feeling a bit embarrassed due to how much time it’s been since the two of you were together. 

“What is it baby girl, are you nervous? Come on, we’ve known each other for years and I know you can take anything I give you.” It was true of course but for some reason, it felt like the first time you had sex with him. 

After your shirt has been taken off, you unconsciously cover your chest with your arms. You didn’t know why you’re acting so self-conscious, especially since you’ve been a challenger to him in bed. 

“Hey, are you okay? We can stop if you don’t want to-” Jungkook asked softly, reaching over to take your hand. 

What’s there to be nervous about? It’s just Jungkook and like he said, you’ve known him for too long. Besides, don’t you have too much pride to act this way? You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked back at him with a seductive smile. 

“You were taking too long to take off my shirt. How boring,” you said coyly, tapping his nose playfully. He returned your gaze, his eyes darkened with lust and desire. 

“Well then baby girl, how about you take off the rest of your clothes since you seem like you want to do it,” he muttered, sitting up with his attention completely on your chest. One thing you were infamous in your relationship for is being a brat, a mix of you being submissive but not backing down completely. Even though you liked being a good girl sometimes, the rest is just you on the receiving end. After all, you won’t back down to a challenge, nonetheless if your challenger’s your significant other. 

If a person only based off of what they saw, they would think that you were the one taking absolute control due to the aura you give off and your harsh personality. However, at least between you and him since you were one to keep your private life a secret, he is the one with the reins and you were completely fine with it. 

You unclipped your bra, throwing it at some random place in the room and revealed your exposed breasts. He ogled at your body up and down, his familiar lustful gaze running through his eyes. 

“Hey, what are you staring at?” you barked, slowly starting to feel awkward. Unlike you, Jungkook had no shame when it came to your bedroom activities and there were times when he would just stare at you while you’re completely bare. How embarrassing...but it’s no big deal. 

“Watch your mouth you little brat. Do I have to punish you on my day back?” he said darkly, his tone immediately making the back of your hairs stand up. Your face softened, heat forming in your cheeks as you twirled a random piece of your hair, a random habit that you’ve done since elementary school.

“I-I’m sorry.” “Sorry what, baby girl? You’re smarter than that.” “Sorry..sir.” After that word was uttered in your soft and obedient tone, Jungkook could feel his dick growing harder by the second. Hearing you give up all of your confidence and letting him control you never failed to turn him on. 

“Now take off the rest of your clothes, sweetie. Or are you going to continue being a dumb little girl and keep playing with me,” he growled softly, leaning back on the bed frame. You felt like acting up some more but he truly was scary when he’s upset and you didn’t want to make his visit back bad because of your behavior so you simply did what he said. Even though you wouldn’t admit it to the world, you also love obeying Jungkook. 

You quickly unzippered your jeans, pulling them off along with your panties and kicking them out of the bed. The warmth from the clothes were immediately replaced by the chilly air from the air conditioner, your nipples standing up and goosebumps filling your body. It was humiliating, especially since Jungkook can see you so clearly. 

“My precious sweetheart,” he cooed, leaning over you and you could feel his hardened member alongside the roughness of his jeans as he slowly grinded into you. 

“Ahh…” You didn’t know what to say, except you knew you wanted more. Jungkook’s mouth was latched onto your nipples, sucking them harshly while his other hand was massaging and flicking on them repeatedly. You felt your eyes roll back to your head and your pussy dampening, even though he wasn’t doing anything yet. 

“You like this baby?” he asked gruffly, tugging on your nipple teasingly as it sends sparks of pleasure inside you. You only let out a whine in response as he broke apart from your chest and slowly made his way down your body. 

All of a sudden, he inserted one of his long fingers inside of your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. You squealed from the intrusion as your body tried to familiarize itself with his finger, your walls clenching around his digit. 

“Damn, have you gotten tighter since last time?” He started to thrust his finger in and out of you at a moderate pace, trying to get you used to the feeling. As if one isn’t enough for you, he suddenly inserted a second one to stretch you out. 

Your mind was a haze, not paying attention to anything that was happening around you and focusing on the pleasure that Jungkook was giving you. His fingers attempted to reach the spongy section of your g-spot, the place that absolutely had you in hysterics. Surely enough, his fingertips grazed over it and you could nearly come undone at any second. 

While he added an additional finger and completely filled you up, you could feel his smooth tongue on your clit, flicking and sucking on it feverishly. High-pitched moans and mewls were coming out of your mouth embarrassingly as you tugged on Jungkook’s long locks in order to steady yourself of the pleasure. 

You could feel him curl his fingers and touch your g-spot, sending sparks within you. At this point, you were barely in a stable mindset due to how good he was making you feel. You felt a knot building up in your stomach, your orgasm coming close to you. 

“Are you gonna cum now baby girl? Do you want to cum for Sir? Yeah, I know you do, I could feel it coming,” he said tauntingly, his fingers and tongue abusing your cunt and the vibrations among it made the sensation feel even better. 

“Y-yeah, I’m gonna-” you whimpered pathetically but to your dismay, he completely stopped by sliding his fingers out and removing his face. With your release dismissed like it was nothing, you felt annoyance build up on you as your body shook from the denial. 

“What the hell? Why did you stop?” you groaned, your eyes shooting sharp daggers at Jungkook. If looks could kill, he would surely be dead within two seconds. But all that’s on his face were your liquids and a cocky smirk that you want to wipe off instantly. 

“Because I want you to cum on my dick first. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside you, y’know?” he said casually, pulling off his shirt like it was nothing and revealing his impressive 6-pack. One thing that you were always in awe of was his figure. Jungkook was a really athletic person, always finding time out of his day to work out and maintain his muscular body. You didn’t mind if he didn’t have abs but it neutralized his cute face that could easily kill anyone. 

“It’s been a while, yeah? You ready kitten?” Jungkook kicked off his jeans and his boxer that covers his massive bulge was immediately in your vision. You could feel your thighs rubbing together as you were craving him inside you. 

“You’re calling me kitten now?” you mumbled shyly as he sat on the edge of the bed, palming his hardened member. 

“Yeah because you’re my cute kitty, aren’t you? Do you want to take off my boxers for me?” he smirked, knowing how excited you are to see him like this again. Like there was no tomorrow, you yanked it off impatiently and his dick sprang out, hitting his abs before standing up instantly. 

“You’re excited, aren’t you? Don’t deny it,” Jungkook teased, stroking his member teasingly before setting you down on your back and hovering above you. 

“I want it,” you mumbled impatiently, getting excited with the thought of him fucking you until you can’t walk again. He chuckled at your reaction, slowly slipping himself inside you. You shrieked from the sudden movement and tried to make yourself comfortable even though this wasn’t new to you. 

“Alright baby, let’s go,” he said gruffly, slowly pulling out and slamming it back inside within the next five seconds. You let out a scream as he picked up the pace into the all-too familiar rough and fast one. 

“Damn, you’ve gotten way tighter since the last time I’ve fucked your brains out. Feels so good for Sir,” he groaned, his dick completely filling you warm and deep to the point where it could nearly reach your guts. “Does my baby like that? Like getting dicked down where I can feel her in your stomach?” “Ahh, oh my god!” You could only moan and whine in response, pathetic noises coming out of your mouth as Jungkook’s dick hit every surface of your pussy. His veins already made it even more pleasurable and you could feel the tip grazing upon your g-spot, making you even more sensitive. 

It hasn’t been long but embarrassingly, you could feel your orgasm arrive once again due to how good his dick was thrusting into you. As he continued to drill your abused cunt, you could feel your legs tremble at the sensitive feeling and the impending sensation of your orgasm starting to grow in your core. 

“S-sir, oh my god-” you mewled as Jungkook used his force to flip you on your stomach, your face covered in the pillows. You couldn’t feel him inside you for a second but suddenly, he slammed inside you with no remorse and continued fucking you at that fast pace. 

Your cunt throbs as you prepare yourself to cum all over his dick. Jungkook could sense it too by the way your walls started to tighten around him, making it even more pleasurable than the last time you two had sex due to how tight you were. You were praying that he doesn’t deny your orgasm again but there were times where he was that cruel. But you’ve behaved enough to not warrant that type of treatment. 

“Is my baby gonna cum now? Go on, come for me, I want to see you come undone on my dick,” he chanted lowly, his pace fastening due to his orgasm coming in soon. Like his words set off a reaction inside you, you screamed out his name and squirted on his dick and stomach. Using that as fuel to keep going, Jungkook thrusts even faster than before to catch his own high as you try to calm yourself down from your own orgasm. 

“Ahh, Jungkook-” you whined from the sensitivity but you kept holding on so he could cum too. The way his sweat dripped off of his forehead and complimenting with his dark locks nearly made you want to cum again. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming, oh shit,” he moaned out, his thrusts slowing down and surely enough, you could feel his dick spurt out his seed inside you. He started to pull out and stroke himself, spurts of his cum filling up your pussy to not waste a drop. 

You and him started to breathe heavily from the intense fuck as you gingerly pulled up the sheets to cover your body. It’s not like you were embarrassed of him seeing your body, it was a habit you did after you have sex with him.

“Did you miss me?” he smiled, lying down next to you and covering an arm around your waist. You nodded, snuggling up next to him on the neck of his crook. There weren't any words spoken from the both of you for a while, instead you were just enjoying the presence of him next to you because after today, he’ll be gone again. 

If you had it your way, you didn’t want him to go but he really wanted to participate in his boxing match and what kind of girlfriend were you if you didn’t support him? Still, you loved every moment with him and he was the one thing you absolutely loved in your life. 

After a moment of silence, Jungkook broke the silence by facing towards you with seriousness in his eyes. You were worried that something may have happened, so you braced yourself with the worst that could happen. But surprisingly, his words were a bigger shock than any other disaster you could think of. 

“Y/N, do you mind if I ask something of you? I hope you don’t find it uncomfortable or invasive.” “Sure, what is it?” You should’ve known from the cheeky smirk he gave you that he was going to request this type of stuff. 

“I want to see you touch yourself. I think you’ll look so hot fucking yourself with your fingers while all I’m doing is just watching you.” “What the hell?!” 

You were lying if you said you didn’t think about it a lot, especially since Jungkook left the house today this afternoon. Now that he wasn’t there, the apartment felt lonely again and you automatically missed him. 

However, the thought of him also brings you back to the conversation you had after you two had sex after a while. 

“You’ve never touched yourself? I figured that something like that would come easy to you!” “Well- you know I have dignity right! It’s already embarrassing enough that I’m your submissive!” 

“You’re right, it’s already hot seeing you act all whiny and needy for my touch.” “Shut up! Stop making fun of me!”

You shook your head, trying to get rid of Jungkook’s words. With the intent to clean your room to take some stuff out of your mind, you walked to the shared bedroom and started to rearrange random knick-knacks that were placed in peculiar locations. 

While you were wandering around, your eye caught sight of a black duffel bag that was in a hidden corner of your bed. With curiosity, you approached it to check to see what was inside. It was heavy and filled with boxing gloves and other equipment, meaning that it was Jungkook’s. 

He must’ve forgotten it when he left today, you mused, holding the glove to your chest. A normal person would immediately contact him and give it back but it was like a living piece of him, having its name and scent. You can’t believe you already miss him that much to hold onto his boxing gloves for some comfort. How pathetic. 

The smell of him already reminded you of yesterday, when he touched you and made you feel so good. You groaned to yourself as you feel your panties dampening just from the thought of Jungkook giving you pleasure. 

“Y’know what, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Alright Jungkook, I’ll do it,” you muttered to yourself as you slowly grazed your fingers to your lower region. You could already feel the slick coming out of your panties, signalling how wet you were. 

You were a smart person but frankly, you were confused on how to touch yourself especially since this was your first time. Memories of the way Jungkook inserted and thrusted his fingers inside you flashed through your mind, giving you an idea on how to start. 

You slide your panties off to your ankles and slowly insert your index finger inside of your core, letting yourself get familiar to your own fingers inside of you. It sure felt different than when Jungkook did it, it wasn’t enough to completely make you feel undone. You pumped another finger inside, giving you something inside at least but it was no better than Jungkook’s touch.

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moaned softly, flicking your own clit with your fingers which makes the pleasure at least a bit better. You would rather have him with you but it was enough to fill up a small part of his absence. Remembering every time he fucked you harshly was enough to quicken your pace with your fingers, your walls clenching around them and your orgasm closely approaching. 

Your other hand groped your breasts, flicking your nipple and massaging them while the other was thrusting in and out of your needy cunt. You were completely in your own euphoria, the world completely fading away from you. Unfortunately for you, that euphoria is only short-lived. 

An annoying sound ran throughout your room, the culprit being your cell phone. You groaned with disappointment as you attempted to pry your fingers out of your pussy and your orgasm fading away with every time the ringtone chimed. 

With your slick-covered hands, you read the text and your blood started to run cold from the words that were displayed on the screen. 

[Jungkook ♡]

- Hi babe, I’m coming home bc I forgot my boxing bag.

- Sorry that this was sudden

- Actually, I’m outside the apartment rn

You’re fucked. Absolutely fucked. But lucky, you still had a minute to spare to make it seem like you weren’t doing anything. You put his boxing glove back in the bag and wobbled downstairs to the front door. The door locks started to jingle and you immediately opened them just for him to take his bag and go. You love him with all of your heart but now’s not the time to chat with him. 

“Hey Y/N, do you have my bag?” he asked across from you, looking as good as ever. You forced a smile and shoved his bag in front of your face.

“Yeah, it’s this one right? So, here it is so you can get going now! Goodbye!” you grinned, sweat dripping down your face. 

Jungkook looked puzzled on why you were acting that way but decided to go along with it. “O-okay, thanks.” 

“Of course! Now, you should get going now! Your boxing rehearsal isn’t going to wait forever, is it?” you chuckled, trying to push him out of the door but he didn’t budge. After taking a quick glance at you (more specifically your legs and the amount of slick dripping down), he decided to stay. 

“Woah, woah, there’s something going on. Let me in,” he said stubbornly, pushing against you to get inside the apartment.  

“What are you talking about? There’s literally nothing going on! You should go back to the boxing place!” you argued but he wouldn’t listen. Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs into the bedroom and set you down, looking straight into your eyes. You immediately blushed as his eyes held such confusion and hunger inside. 

“Don’t lie to me, only bad girls lie. So tell me baby, what exactly is going on?”

Surely he didn’t know right? You still have some time to lie because there’s no way he knows. 

“I was taking a nap before you texted me.” 

“Without your panties on and a shit ton of slick dripping down your thighs?” he asked with confusion, pulling up your skirt and revealing your soaking pussy, throbbing due to the atmosphere. At this point, you were absolutely stuck in a corner as Jungkook stared at the way you’re completely aroused. 

“Ahh, um..” “Are you cheating on me, Y/N?” His eyes were now full of sadness and hurt and you could immediately feel your heart start to break. 

“N-no! Of course not! I would never cheat on you, you’re the one who I love! It’s just because..” you tried to get the idea out of his head, holding his hands tightly. Jungkook’s face brightened up a bit before being replaced with suspicion.

“So, what’s up? What were you doing while I left?” There was absolutely no talking yourself out of this because Jungkook would find out either way at this point. But at least it’s better than making up a stupid lie, right? “I..um..remember how you said you wanted to see me touch myself yesterday?” “Of course.” “Well...I was doing that..” you mumbled with embarrassment, avoiding his eye contact. Jungkook’s ears picked up what you said and his face lit up with excitement and desire. 

“Say that again for me?” he smirked, loving how soft and shy you were now.   

“I..was touching myself while I was thinking of you,” you said a bit loudly but it was still so embarrassing. You had no idea why he was all so happy right now but it made you happy nonetheless.

“Do you think you can show me?” he grinned, staring up into your eyes. 

“What?! N-no! It’s private right? You see, it’s private for a reason! Now you got your bag and figured out why I was acting weird so you can go now!” you snapped, heat automatically filling up your body. 

“It’s okay, I can skip practice today. This is important, why didn’t you tell me?” “It’s not something I should tell you.” “Anyways, you’ve been a bad girl today. Touching yourself while thinking of me, you’re so naughty. So your punishment is to reenact what you did before I came back and I’m not leaving until I see you touch yourself. But don’t worry, if you need help then I’m always here,” Jungkook purred, his dominant persona on. You gulped down a lump down your throat but you weren’t ready to back down to him yet. 

“No I’m not! I’m not giving up my dignity just yet!” “Come on, little girl. I know you were fucking yourself like a little whore while you were gone. Did your tiny little fingers fill you up completely, better than my cock? I know you didn’t because even though you’re a whore, you’re still such a slut for my dick.” His dirty words made you even more turned on than normal with even more slick running down your thighs. You knew it was better to obey, especially since he’s talking like this. With that being said, you scooted yourself with the back of your head hitting the bed frame. After a minute of hesitation, you lifted up your skirt which revealed your whole pussy to him. Jungkook stared intently, noticing every little twitch that it made as it’s longing for something to be inside it and how wet it has become. His lips were curled into a smirk as your fingers started to graze over your folds. 

Taking a deep breath, you inserted two of your fingers to aid the throbbing in your core. It felt  different than when you did it before, maybe due to Jungkook staring at every little movement you made.

Despite your initial refusal, having him watch over you turned you on even more and the throbbing only continued to get worse after you slowly started to move your fingers. You didn’t know how much it turned you and him on, judging from his erection in his pants. 

“Ahh, oh my god,” you moaned, adding an additional finger and groping your boobs with your other hand.

Jungkook’s mouth was in shock, shocked at how you can look so sexy touching yourself even though it was your first time. His dick was begging to be released in his now tight sweatpants but just watching you like this was more than enough.

He’s never admitted it directly to you but surprisingly, he’s such a voyeur and seeing you wrecked with only your fingers or even a toy could make him cum as hard as him actually fucking you.

“J-Jungkook, please…” you mewled, rocking your hips against your small hands in an attempt to hit your g-spot, where only your boyfriend knows. 

By now, you’ve inserted your whole hand inside of your core and it still wasn’t as satisfying as Jungkook’s long fingers inside you. You should’ve been embarrassed that his vision was at you masterbating but frankly, you didn’t care anymore.

“Shit baby girl, just like that, fucking ruin yourself,” he grunted, slightly stroking his hardened member through his sweatpants. 

“I want your mouth on me,” you cried, slowly starting to feel the same ecstatic feeling of your release. The way his eyes were set on you alone brings you closer to your high as you’re practically grinding on your hand. 

Luckily, Jungkook heard your wish and immediately brought his face down to your core, taking your fingers out and licking your clit like there was no tomorrow. His face was completely buried with the goal of eating you out and getting your cum out of you. It wasn’t a thought that ever crossed your mind but you never realized how much better Jungkook made you feel and how the throbbing seemed to go away after he was with you. His face was absolutely covered in your juices and adding to his warm mouth were his long fingers. 

“You like that don’t you, you slutty little girl?” he hummed, the vibrations of his mouth making you even more closer to the edge. You gripped onto his arm tightly, your fingernails dragging along his muscles due to how much he was giving you. 

You felt his fingers curl against you, hitting your g-spot and bringing you closer to your climax. It felt too good and you were craving to be ruined by him. Jungkook stared at the way you were shoving his hand amongst your tight little cunt, grinding on it as you try to reach your high and the squelching sounds it made. 

Within seconds, you were close to your orgasm and you were trying to chase after it feverishly. His tongue and his fingers were too much for you, even though you received them last night. They made you feel so satisfied and full, always filling you up to the edge and the way he was hitting every spot nearly made you cream all over his fingers. 

Unfortunately for you, he immediately pulled his fingers and mouth away, completely denying you of releasing. The hot feeling and intensity disappeared instantly and was replaced by the familiar throbbing as you let out a groan of disappointment. This was the second time you’ve lost your orgasm and you just wanted to release on him once more. 

“Why did you stop? I was going to-” you growled, your face heating up due to the increased temperature inside. 

“You’re not going to cum when I’m away. Is that a rule you can follow?” he said sharply, licking every remain of your juices off his face and wiping the excess with a tissue. 

“W-why?” “Instead, I want you to send me a video touching yourself but not cumming until my match. Is that an order my little girl can do?” 

You absolutely hated the fact that you won’t be releasing for a while but you didn’t want to get him mad. All you can do is just accept your fate and nod. 

“There you go, don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel so good once I win,” he grinned, kissing you passionately. You could immediately taste yourself on his lips and felt his hardened member upon you. There were more things that the two of you would’ve done but he wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

“Well then, I’ll be off. You’ll behave, right?” he parted cheerily, grabbing his bag and leaving the apartment like he didn’t just completely ate you out and denied your orgasm for the second time. As you heard the door lock, you’re left with your skirt drenched from your juices and the aching feeling between your legs. 

Oh the things that Jungkook does to you. But what would happen if you gave him a little surprise during his boxing match. Surely, you weren’t that submissive and besides, it would be fun to tease him..

“You did great man!” Taehyung cheered, high-fiving Jungkook as soon as his match ended. He shared the same with a bunny-like smile and went inside the locker room to clean up to see you. Not only did he win but he’s going to be staying with you for a while now. 

With a bright spirit, he unlocked his locker and opened his phone to a text message from you. There was an attachment with a seemingly innocent message but once he opened the video, it only fueled his desire. 

[Y/N ♡]

- I miss you so much 

Inside of the video was you fucking yourself with your fingers, high-pitched and incoherent whimpers coming out of you and from the looks of it, it was like you’re about to reach your climax. 

Within the last few seconds, it cuts to you creaming all over the bed and licking your juices off of your fingers seductively with a cute wink at the end. All of that just to rile and tease him. 

Shit, the things that this girl does to me, Jungkook sighs, feeling his member starting to grow inside of his pants again. They were simple instructions yet you can’t obey properly. Maybe it was due to you being a brat and wanting to be put in your place again. 

Well, if there’s one thing that you and Jungkook know, is that you’ll certainly not walk the next day.

a/n: honestly, i’m not too proud of this but i hope you liked it regardless! let me know what you think and have a great day <3

[neowinestainedress]

DYNASTY ⮚ NCT

prev⏐ chapter thirty-four ⏐ next⏐ masterpost

warnings: semi explicit smut scene, minor body worship, minor religious undertones, oral sex (f), implied unprotected sex (wrap it up!)

genre: fantasy au, royal au, super powers au

word count: 3.172k

summary: The apparent calm that reigns in Neo City breaks into million pieces when some members of the Neos find an outsider laying unconscious in the wood. After that, everything they know stops making sense. Menace from the past come back, while they have to rule on their city knowing that the menace of Simon’s dictatorial power is closer day by day. The past they never dared to face will wash over them like impetuous waves. The present is filled with doubts, regrets and the mystery of the lost memories of the nameless girl. The future is even more uncertain.

Can you break the chain with your past even if it’s running in your bloodstream?

taglist: @saeyeoniee  @shwizhies​​ | if you want to be added let me know under the masterpost or with a message

“I don’t know what happened but you came so far since you arrived,” Sicheng praised Anastasia while he noted down her progress on the medical record. 

Anastasia smiled, swinging her feet in the air.

“I’m getting a little bit more sleep at night, guess that helps,” she chuckled. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I still have to sleep with someone by my side but Jungwoo doesn’t mind, it helps the both of us.” Since Jungwoo found out who she really was he also insisted more to sleep together, he said that it was a way to make up for the lost time and she didn’t feel guilty anymore to sleep with him. 

“So you’re not getting nightmares anymore?”

“Not as often. It tends to happen if I’m a little bit more tense, you know. If the training doesn’t go so well and I’m nervous, but it doesn’t happen often.” 

Sicheng smiled brightly, looking up and down at her. He was proud of her. He kind of lost her in the way, Kun taking over him because he was too busy operating downtown, but he was the first one that helped her and seeing her like this warmed his heart. It was also nice to know that she was back and even after all that happened she was still incredibly strong, with lots of highs and lows, but she was still fighting.  

“You’re eating more,” Sicheng said, looking at her body. Thankfully he couldn’t see her bones anymore, her curves were starting to get back where they belonged, her face was fuller and she looked way healthier and stronger. 

“Yeah, Kun cooks for me and I can’t really say not to his food,” she confessed. It had been hard, actually, to go back on track and eat regularly without feeling nauseous. But she had to, she couldn’t go on like that, so she made an oath with Kun, and turned eating into a positive moment where she would try to just focus on the food and not think of anything else. 

“How’s training going?”

“It’s hard, I can’t believe I used to do that every day of my life,” she admitted. “But overall, I’m doing good, I mean, I’m surviving.” Anastasia wasn’t so sure about that, she was convinced that she kinda sucked and everybody was just too nice to tell her, but she knew that all those years affected her and her ability. She had been frozen in time for three years, she just couldn’t easily go back on track. 

“What are you doing now?”

“Finished working on resistance. Yuta says that I have to start working on my speed again, he said I lost it.”

“And your resistance?”

“Is good now, my muscles are back, I can run for twenty minutes now and don’t feel so tired. I used to collapse after five minutes.”

“Well, that was what you were good at, I think it’s great,” Sicheng smiled at her. She had always been the fastest of them, her speed was just like no other there but most importantly she wouldn’t get tired, her stamina was really good.

“Yep, it’s a start.” 

“And what are you focusing on? Still kickboxing?”

“Liv thinks it’s better that way, she’s convinced I can take on my speed soon, but I don’t know... I don’t feel so good at it anymore.” 

“Do you want to do something else?”

“Mph, no. The other choices are throwing blades with Yuta or shooting with Lucas and no, thanks.” 

Sicheng laughed. “Liv’s a tougher teacher than Yuta if she wants to,” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t really feel in my element with blades, ninja stars and throwing stuff in general. Yuta’s good at it, way too good, if I mess it up he’s going cut me in half,” Anastasia laughed it off but she was totally convinced that Yuta wouldn’t have hesitated.  

Sicheng laughed too. “C’mon, he’s not that cruel.”

“But he takes what he does very personal and I don’t want to interfere.”

“Can’t say otherwise,” he smiled, turning around and heading to the desk to look for some papers that were attached to the medical record. He then came back to her, next to the bed. 

“What if we reduce the doses of your medicine?” He proposed, and Anastasia’s eyes started shining and she started nodding like a happy child.

“Okay, you like this but please be careful,” Sicheng started to tell her. “For insomnia, no more of the other pills, but drops of melatonin before sleep,” he wrote it down on a paper. “Try to avoid alcohol, and caffeine and always keep a routine, force your brain to go to sleep at a certain hour every day and wake up on time.” He knew it wasn’t easy, there was also a severe case of depression and anxiety, and all of these together created a domino effect, but they had to try. She was getting better; she could sleep more, eat more and with an appetite, she started to have interest again, stopped having panic attacks, and also gained weight. Sicheng was positive. 

“Only this?” She asked, tone disappointed. 

“I can’t get you off of antidepressants, maybe anxiolytics, but I want to talk with Kun, first.”

“Fine, guess it’s a step forward, anyway.” 

“It is, and you’re only going to get better. I promise.”

“You’re never going to block a fist if you punch that slowly.” Jaehyun didn’t mean to stare but he had just come out of the changing room and saw Anastasia boxing at the bag box and he couldn’t stop himself to see if she had gotten better. He knew he should’ve minded his business but he couldn’t help it. And giving advice wasn’t a big deal, right? Worst of it all she would’ve told him to fuck off. 

“I can’t be faster,” she lamented, letting a harmless punch hit the box. 

“But you can be less stiff,” he said, jumping on the ring, positioning himself behind her, his body towering on her. His hands reached the gloves and forced her arms to bend more. “You’re too rigid, relax,” he noted, his breath hitting her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. 

“I can’t,” she said, voice shaky, as she tried to fight any type of irrational thoughts that were about to fog her mind because of their proximity. 

“If you keep them like this you’re just going to hurt yourself. Trust me.” 

Anastasia nodded and tried to relax her arms the more she could. 

Jaehyun’s knee pushed her legs to bend too, unexpectedly, causing her body to fall forward. 

“I got you,” Jaehyun said as he immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her body up in a firm hold. 

“You got me,” Anastasia whispered mindlessly as she regained composure.

“Your whole body is too stiff. Bend your knees more, it will be easier to move around and dodge the punches,” he said, he was still gently holding her side and when he realized it, he pulled away, taking some steps back. 

“Can we try?” She proposed, turning around. 

“You want me to fight with you?” He asked, brow furrowed. 

“Yes, you’re the best at this,” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing she could say.

“No,” he said straight away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he added as he jumped out of the ring again and started to walk out of the door. 

But she didn’t want him to leave. “Then teach me,” she screamed, making him stop in his tracks. 

“Make me your student,” she demanded as she throw the gloves on the ground, the boxing wraps now the only thing covering her hands. 

Jaehyun turned around, their eyes intertwining in a gaze that held thousands of words, and he gulped. His legs started to walk toward her without him knowing. It was a force pulling him toward her, as always, like a magnet. 

He climbed up the ring again and stopped right in front of her, their bodies a few centimetres away.

“What do you want me to teach you?” He asked, his low voice coming out sultry in a whisper, his hand resting on her cheek. 

Her eyes looked up from his full lips to his deep brown eyes. “Teach me how to love you. Make me love you again,” she whispered, leaning closer to him, their lips almost grazing. 

 He snickered. “You’re playing unfair, it’s impossible,” he whispered, and tried to walk away but her hands clasped his hand and pulled him back where he was. 

“If I told you, it’s because I know you can. I know you can show me how to love you.”

He hesitated for a while, his chest raising more frenetically as he felt a strange sensation rise in him, a new confidence, a new attraction. 

“What do you want me to do exactly? How do you want me to show you how beautiful we were?”

“Make me fall in you, Jaehyun. Make me fall so deep that I can never come back up to the surface. Make fall so deep that I will never know another shade of blue but yours.” 

At those words, nothing could stop him anymore. He did it, he pulled her closer by her waist, their chest touching and their lips crashing against each other, eager of tasting each other again, eager of intertwining in each other like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. Jaehyun didn’t want to pull away, but the air was starting to miss, and he had to. He didn’t regret it, though, when he saw her gasping for him too, her lips already swollen from the kiss and her chest panting faster. She was beautiful, no matter where she was, whether it was in the middle of a field full of sunflowers on a beautiful day of spring or in the middle of a gym with cold grey light hitting her. 

She. 

She was everything to him. Tangled in his soul, unable to leave. His lifeline. 

And he wanted to show her. Show her how beautiful their souls were together. Remind her, that they were the ones. 

And as if she could read his mind, she pulled him close once again and whispered. “Make me yours, Yoonoh. Only yours.”

And it was the most unromantic place ever, but they couldn’t really care when her body touched the cold floor and he positioned himself on top of her, starting to kiss her collarbone, down to the hollow in her chest, to her tummy and up again. 

They could’ve rushed it, burned the moment, turned off the flame in the blink of an eye, but they wanted to savour every bit of it. 

To Jaehyun it felt like a fever dream to have her right there in front of him, ready to be so vulnerable in his hands, and the fear that she would’ve disappeared was strong, that’s why he fought it by kissing every inch of her skin. 

His lips grazed her lobe and bit on it gently, then he passed to her neck, leaving small nibbles here and there, and then his hands reached for the hem of the shirt she was wearing, lifting it up, making it meet the floor. 

Anastasia’s arms were swift at covering her body, suddenly the consciousness of having to be exposed in front of him hit her making her feel ashamed. 

“Don’t do that,” he said, reaching for her arms, trying to move them away. 

“No,” she pleaded, making him stop. “I’m full of scars,” she said, her eyes looking away. “Scars they made.”

“Then I’ll kiss every single one of them so they can heal faster,” he reassured her, gently holding her hand up, starting to remove the bandages so that her hands would be completely free. 

She looked back at him, eyes gleaming, her heart warm. Tears at the brim of her eyes. 

“You’ll love me even if they stayed there forever?” She asked in a shaky voice. Her eyes moved up and down to him and his hands that were touching her so delicately as if she was a fragile jewel, cautious of not even grazing it. And to her, it seemed absurd, because she was. She was bruised, marked, and broken, not a single glimpse of light coming out of all her cracks. But Jaehyun could see it, the light, the gold that was still there, buried underneath all of the dust and ashes. And she loved the way Jaehyun was looking at her, because she was sure that if she looked at herself with his eyes, she would’ve loved the sight. And dumbly enough, she needed somebody that loved her in the way she couldn’t love herself. And she knew that what was happening was a little selfish because she still wasn’t feeling the same for him, she was working on it and she was once again asking for him to be patient, and lead her back into his heart.

“I love you, and you’re not defined by the scars drawn on you.” It was the very bare minimum, she knew that, but she found incredible comfort in those words. The nth proof that he really had waited for her and always would’ve done that, no matter what she would’ve looked like, or how much time would’ve changed her. 

“But if you let me to, I’ll also love every inch of your body to remind you how beautiful you are,” he continued, his lips leaving invisible kisses on a scar right under her left collarbone. “No matter how long it’ll take for your skin to heal from the bruises, I’ll still love the way it feels under my fingertips, so smooth.” 

Anastasia let her head roll back, finally letting herself go at the sensation of his hands running up and down her body, touching it in a way nobody else could ever. It was nice, no, it was so fucking good to have his big cold hands exploring her skin as if it was an unknown land that he needed to map. Going so deep under her skin, turning her inside out. 

And before she could notice, a small moan rolled out of her lips just when he started playing with her left nipple, taking it in his mouth and then letting it go, the contrast of his warm mouth and the cold air making her shiver. 

“Let me get rid of this,” Jaehyun said pushing her pants down to her ankles and then on the floor, somewhere behind them, where her shirt and bra were laying since before. 

“Come closer,” Ana beckoned him, and as soon as he did, she wrapped her arms around his neck pulling their lips in a heated kiss again. 

Her hands were swift at reaching for the hem of his shirt and lifting it off, discharging it on the pavement, desperately touching his toned back and scratching it when Jaehyun thrust his clothed boner against her core. 

“Fuck,” she breathed out, biting her lips to suppress more sounds to come out. But that was enough to make her struggle with the belt of his pants to hurriedly get rid of them too. She needed to feel him for real. 

“Getting greedy?” He teased, now romance was getting surpassed by lust and need. 

“Can you blame me when I have you?” She asked, trying to push his pants and boxer down. 

“Let me do it,” he said, getting up to get rid of his clothes. 

Anastasia tried to hold him close to her but before she could do anything he was already lowered down with his head between her legs. 

His hot breath came in contact with her covered heat, while his hands were holding her thighs up, caressing their back in small circles with his thumbs. And he wasn’t doing anything, yet, she felt close to melting. Maybe it was because it was a familiar sensation she hadn’t felt in years, or maybe it was because she didn’t feel a touch so nice, gentle and loving in ages, too used now to slaps, punches, syringes and knives. Or probably it was the sense of reassurance that in the end, it was always him, and he knew all the right buttons to push. Whatever it was the reason, she loved it.

That’s why, as much she wanted to look at him, she couldn’t force herself to do that. It felt too good when his lips started to work on her slowly, but intensely, and with a dedication that felt religious. 

She lifted her upper body, standing on her elbows and took in the sight in front of her. Somehow, he managed to look breathtaking even in this situation, head almost buried between her thighs, hair falling on his forehead and his intense gaze staring right at her eyes like a hunter with his prey. She felt a rush rise in her stomach, and a louder moan escaped her lips. There was nothing rough behind his movement, but it was so intense that she was already feeling on the bridge of an orgasm. Jaehyun was drinking her in as if she was the most precious wine. Jaehyun was worshipping her, eyes fixed on hers, screaming unspeakable words, holy and unholy, the sacred meeting the profane, spilling curses and praises, scratches marking what was crafted by the Highest. 

And just when she thought she could carry a little bit longer, his fingers, buried deep inside of her, doing God’s work, combined with his soft plump lips, pushed her right over the edge. A jolt, so good, that she felt her thighs tremble, and her hand clamped in his hair, pushing him away. 

Jaehyun stared at her; eyes closed, eyelids slightly fluttering, chest panting heavily, moving up and down at a frenetic speed that was slowly starting to come down, lips red and swollen, hair stuck to her forehead and neck. The most beautiful of angels stained with sin. 

“Do you still want more?” He asked, his body towering over her completely, his hands at the side of her face. “Can you take more?” His voice was sultry and low, filled with a lust that was never there in his usual tone. 

Anastasia looked up, nodded and then tried to kiss him, but he backed up. 

“What do you want, love? I need to hear you.” 

“You,” she said, breathlessly. “I want you.” 

A smile crept on his face, he lowered his head to kiss her, bit her lower lip and pulled away. 

“No other shade of blue?” He asked, lining himself at her entrance, his left hand on her hip, making circles, right on top of the tattoo. He wanted to be sure that this promise would be forever, that this time nothing would’ve separated them. He wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just a random night of passion but a vow. 

“No other shade of blue,” she confirmed, her fingers intertwining in his hair.  No, no other pain, would’ve pulled them away. 

[milariskanavasi]

Haze & Hellfire

Chapter Four : Beneath Lovers Lake

Part: 4 /(9) WIP Pairing: Eddie Munson x female OC

Summary: March 1986. Eight months after the Starcourt Mall burned down, the town of Hawkins is back on its feet. The smart, expressive leader of the D&D Hellfire Club, Eddie Munson, is determined that ‘86 will be his year, the year he finally graduates from Hawkins High and finally, maybe pluck up the courage to ask the most stone cold girl in Indiana, Dallas Haze, out. Meanwhile, Dallas Haze lives her life to the fullest by enduring the last three months of high school in the company of her cousin Chrissy, looking forward to her 18th birthday as well as planning a wicked road trip after graduation with her band, Dallas and The Velvet Haze, on the road to fame. Plus it wouldn’t be too bad if someone asked her to prom. When Eddie’s and Dallas’ paths cross in the most unexpected way, neither of them knows what lurks beneath Hawkins or what the future has planned for them.

Chapter summary: As Eddie reluctantly tells the gang how Chrissy Cunningham died, new questions are brought to life. There is no logical explanation, so what was it that killed her? A new world underneath Hawkins is revealed to Eddie and Dallas in the boathouse at Lovers Lake. But will they be able to prove Eddie’s innocence?

Read the other parts: go to [MASTERLIST] 

Chapter Four - Beneath Lovers Lake

Eddies pov: 

He stares back at them in utter disbelief. They want him to talk; rip up an open wound even more and repeat to them the horrors he saw last night. Eddie’s heart beats violently. He stands at a crossroad, just like during the dark tunnels-campaign, he faces two scenarios, impossible to predict and he might find himself wandering the maze of despair forever.  

The decision to flee and hide in the boathouse was made when he -for probably the fourth time during the evening- almost had a heart attack from a passing car. He couldn’t stay in the house. Darkness had swept in over the lake and settled heavily and eerily over the house; the shadows caused by furniture, the outside vegetation and- well, anything really, made him nervous. He felt trapped, easy prey if someone came and started peeking through the windows. So he sneaked out, with a few beers and some snacks. He regretted his decision the minute he stepped into the boathouse, a real cheat build, drafty and for each step he took the floorboards creaked. If the police hadn’t found him yet, they’d surely HEAR him now, Eddie thought, swearing long, ugly rhymes for each step he took. Shivering, he huddled in a sheltered corner and set out the beer and snacks on a small table and dug in. When the beer was finished and the snacks were eaten, he returned to freezing his ass off. As soon as he’d heard the car roll down on the driveway it was like his heart stopped altogether; the blood froze in his veins and everything around him started to sway. God no, was all he could think. The instinct took over surprisingly fast  and feverishly the eyes began to search for hiding places. Jumping into the pitch black, cold as fuck lake was out of the fucking option. Instead, he quickly jumped down into the raised up row boat and pulled the tarp over him. Then he laid there underneath the blue tarp and held his breath, almost choking himself to death, until that jerk Harrington started to poke him with a fucking oar.  

Eddie flinches slightly and is awakes from his thoughts by a soft caress on his cheek. Dallas Haze’s hand runs like water down his skin.  

“Please?”

In the warm glow of the flashlight he can see five pairs of wondering, pleading eyes looking back at him.

”You won't believe me.” Eddie hisses between clenched teeth, on the brink of total collapse.

”Try us.”

The redhead, Max Mayfield, meets his gaze. Eddie looks at her uncomprehendingly. What does she mean? Frustrated, emotionally on the verge, he looks to Dustin; Is all of this happening? Is he dreaming? Dustin nods somewhat encouragingly. Once again Eddie hesitates.

“I- I can’t-“

“Please. Eddie?” Dallas pleads while continuing to stroke his hands; the touch makes Eddie turn his eyes back to her. “I need to know what happened to Chrissy.” Her tone is like a soft caressing. “And you’re the only one who knows.”

He has to be brave. Yet again he’s faced with two options; Is he a coward or a knight, who, like all knights in the tales and legends, swallows his fear and transforms it into true, honorable courage. After all, the fair maiden sits right in front of him, begging for help. She, the fairest maiden of them all, came for him in times of need.

For you, milady, he thinks, and for her - for Chrissy. Eddie sighs and his head falls towards his chest as he draws a deep breath, glides out of Dallas’ grip and pulls his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what happened.” He starts, voice shaking. “I left her alone for a minute at best. When I returned she- she just stood there. Her eyes… like…” To illustrate, for lack of better words, he aimlessly flutters his fingers in the air. “Thought she had a seizure or something.”

He puts his hands down again. In a second, Dallas’ hands are there again to warm him, protect him. It gives him strength.

”Her body just, like, lifted up into the air and, uh…” Eddie pauses again, trying to remain collected. ”And she just, like, hung there. In the air. And her bones… Uh, she... Her bones started to snap.” He closes his eyes, hears the sound of bones cracking inside his head. ”Her eyes, man. It... It was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling…”

Eddie’s voice breaks. He’s unable to bring himself to continue. Despite the fact that the image of Chrissy’s body, stuck to the ceiling, has forced itself on his retina and regardless of whether he’s been awake or asleep, he cannot wrap his head around it.

”Then she just… fell.” As if the thought of it makes him feel sick, Eddie swallows hard. ”I… I didn't know what to do, so I... I ran away. I left her there.” He scoffs. ”You all think I'm crazy, right?”

”No.” Robin utters faintly, unsure if he’ll have an outburst.  

”No, we don't think you're crazy.” Dustin agrees.

”Don't bullshit me, man!” Eddie explodes, making all of them jump. ”I know how this sounds.”

”We're not bullshitting you. We believe you.”

”Eddie!” Dallas implores. ”We promise. I promise.” Her grip around his hands tightens. “Please, talk to us. We just want to help.”

Desperately, Eddie meets Dallas' eyes. He’s up to his neck in anxiety, thick as quicksand and he can’t find his way out of it.

Do they really believe him? Does SHE really believe him?

For a whole day he has oscillated between the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare and the terrifying, harsh reality of being chased down for a gruesome murder he hasn’t committed. And now this; Henderson, the redhead, Buckley, Steve Harrington and -as the cherry on top of his madness- Dallas Haze, stands in front of him, saying they believe him?

To be able to just wake up from this purgatory would be a liberation. He can't handle much more. But the soft, gentle hand cupping his face, the radiant gaze so intensely focused on him, without the slightest indication of wanting to look away - Eddie inhales deeply and for the first time in a long time, he’s struck by the sensation that he can take a full, deep breath. As if she not only gives him physical warmth through the palm of her hand but also shares the oxygen in her lungs with him. He sees her in a different light, shining even more radiant and bright than ever before. Dallas Haze, sitting in front of him, telling him she wants to help. Her dark blue eyes -he's never seen anything as blue before- framed by black eyelashes, are so full of trust and determination there’s no doubt about it. It’s as obvious as if he looked at the answer key of a math pop quiz.

He is Frodo who has just been saved by Glorfindel after he’s been wounded at Weathertop; he’s close to dying, just as the god-like, stately figure rides in on his horse, a dreamlike apparition, surrounded by a supernatural glow and takes him away to safety. Eddie looks at Dallas; the most unreachable creature walking upon the surface of this earth is sitting in front of him, showing him compassion, giving him warmth. The voice, soft and captivating as velvet, soothes him into a sense of security and a feeling that everything’s going to be alright. He will survive.

“You do?” His question is merely a whisper.

”We believe you, Eddie.” She repeats. “I don’t understand it, but I promise you-” She squeezes his hand. ”-we believe every word you say.” She turns around, her long hair brushing the sleeve of his jacket, to look at the others. ”Right?”

The other four nod. However, there’s something in their faces that makes Eddie suspicious. Not that they lie, more like they’re hiding something. That feeling increases when Robin, Max, Steve and Dustin glances at one another - they’ve got ‘guilty’ written all over them. Even though Dallas has turned her face away from him, Eddie notices how she also takes notice of their sudden shift of energies.

”Okay now you look all weird again.” She states harshly. ”Spit it out!”

The tone is commanding, impressively fierce. It’s clear that this isn’t the first time that she not only expects, but also demands to have it her way.  

Dustin inhales.

”Look guys-” He starts, the slanted eyes flickering. ”What I'm about to tell you might be a little... difficult to take. Okay.” He looks at Eddie and Dallas hesitantly, uncertain if it’s such a good idea to say what he’s about to say. ”You know how people say Hawkins is... Cursed? They're not way off.” Dustin swallows and starts to talk slowly. ”There's another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours.”

At first Eddie thinks it’s a joke. Henderson’s just fucking around with them. However, his serious expression tells him otherwise.

”Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asks.

”There are some things worse than ghosts.” The redhead, Max, tabs in.

Dallas’ grip around Eddie’s hands tightens at her ominous words.

”These monsters from this other world… we thought they were gone. But they’ve come back before.” Dustin continues. “That's why we needed to find you.”

“If they're back again, we need to know.” Max says.

Silence follows upon Max’s words, except for the slight gurgling sound of the water, hitting the stakes holding the boat house over the water. Eddie stares at Dustin, then flickers his attention on to the others - slightly bowed heads, worry in the eyes, stiff, clenched jaws; they’re scared as shit. They’re not lying.

How the hell do you digest this? Of course he understood that something was fucking weird, that something strange was happening. He hadn’t imagined Chrissy’s body levitating. Hadn’t blacked out and killed her with his own hands. Everything was real. Even though it’s beyond the laws of physics and all rhyme and reason. Despite all that, Dustin, Max, Robin and Steve HAVE been through this before. They KNOW what he’s talking about. They BELIEVE him. The unbearable relief Eddie’s overflown with is beyond description. He wants to cry, but he can’t bring himself to let go, not now. He must get answers, must know more - EVERYTHING.

“That night, did you see anything?” Robin asks.

“Dark particles, maybe?” Max suggests.

“It would almost look like dust, swirling dust.” Dustin tries to explain.

”No. No, there was nothing you could see or, uh…” Eddie stutters, while small dots start to dance before his eyes. Fuck, he can’t pass out now. “Or touch.” It sounds fuzzy, he’s very aware of it, but it’s the only way he can put words to the feeling he had. Besides, he feels dizzy, close to being sick to his stomach. “You know, I tried to wake her, man. But she couldn’t move. It was like she... she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell?” Dustin suggests.

“A curse.” Eddie says and looks up and meets Dustin’s eyes. How could he know?

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin whispers.

“Who’s curse?” Steve asks uncomprehendingly.

“Vecna.”

“Who's Vecna?”

“An undead creature of great power.” Dustin says.

“A spell caster.” Eddie seconds monotonously.

“A dark wizard.” Dustin continues and swallows, before continuing. “It all started three years ago…”

What follows could be taken from a thick book of fiction, with a lore that outclasses Eddie’s best campaign. When Dustin’s voice, raspy and dry from talking, falls silent some time later, both he and Dallas stare at him under grave silence. Underneath the leather sleeves the hairs on his arms stand up in discomfort. The campaign repeats itself, for real this time. Vecna has returned. Eddie sighs and swallows hard. A corrupt, malevolent shadow of a former great king; a spellcaster, evil embodied with unimaginable powers. It all makes sense. 

A cold wind blows in from the lake and finds its way into the boathouse and reinforces the feeling of discomfort before the newfound knowledge of a nether, dark world.

Everyone flinches as Dallas suddenly gets up from her squatting position in front of Eddie. The warm, soft hands that clasped around his and touched his cheek are torn away from him. Eddie watches as she drags her fingers through her hair, clings to it by her temples and how she holds her forehead.

“Hey, hey-” Dustin says disarmingly, while holding out his hands at her and Eddie, in an attempt to calm them down. “Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out!” Dallas wheezes, eyes widened.  

“Yeah, easy for you to say, man.” Eddie scoffs.

All of them watch as Dallas paces a few times, before she turns around and stares at Max, Steve, Dustin and Robin.

“You’re not actually fucking around!?” She asks monotonously, with a gravely serious expression upon her face.

“No, Dallas.” Dustin replies.

“Sorry.” Steve looks up at her.  

”Okay” Dallas inhales, then exhales loudly. ”Okaaay. This is-” She clasps her hands behind her head. ”Shit!” She bends over and puts her head between her legs, as to prepare to hyperventilate.

“You okay?” Robin asks hesitantly.

“Yeah excuse me for feeling a bit queasy.” Dallas scoffs from her bent over position. She unfolds and moans in discomfort. “Fucking shit…”

“If it’s any help-” Dustin says. “You take it better than others.”

There is no response from any of them. Eddie looks at Dallas from his spot on the floor, petrified. Dallas on the other hand doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself; pace, sit or just remain on her spot.

“So there’s a girl-” Dallas takes a breath.

“Eleven.” Max tabs in.

“-who’s a superhero? With actual real super powers?”

“Yeah.”

“And she can throw cars with her mind, at Russians?”

“Yes.”

“And she has fought this… this weird shitshow before?”

“Mhm.”

“With success?”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t we just go get her!?” Dallas exclaims. “Or get her on a plane here?”

Once again, Dustin’s, Max’s, Steve’s and Robin’s gazes start to wander apprehensive. This can’t be good, Eddie thinks and his morale, that for a brief moment started to return, drops.

Dallas pov:

”You guys are serious? You really are?” Dallas sighs and blows out a whistle. ”Wow.”

She had to ask them to take it from the beginning again. She didn’t give a rats ass if it would take them the whole night. Maybe if she heard it once again, she could maybe wrap her head around it, or at least accept that she was going completely crazy. Even though ‘one-way ticket to the madhouse’ would be the easiest solution and despite the fact that a whole second dimension of the world has been revealed, Dallas’ brain still seemed to find it more natural to accept the sprawling crazy story. There was nothing of human flesh and blood that could cause such damages as the ones she saw on Chrissy’s body. Of course it had to be something out of this world, but she got more than she bargained for. A top secret lab. A little girl with telekinetic superpowers fueled by Eggo’s. Russian soldiers in an underground military base with a laser beam. A demonic world beneath Hawkins filled with monsters. A great cover up about a fire, made up by the government, to hide what really happened at Starcourt Mall. Monster dogs and monsters made up of melted Hawkins residents. A demon wizard. And now they can’t get a hold of Mike Wheeler and the Byers in California, where also this supergirl, Eleven, also is.

“So you have no idea how to get in touch with them?” She asks, probably for the thousandth time.

“They’re not answering our calls.”

“Shit.” Eddie utters.

“And what, you can’t just-” Dallas makes a gesture. “I don’t know, make a mental note to Eleven to get on a plane here?”

“She can’t read minds!” Dustin sighs.

“Well excuse me for not knowing what this supergirl can and can’t do in this goddamn Area 51-dimension!”  

“More like Area 666.” Eddie scoffs.

Despite the strained situation, Dallas cannot help but turn around and gape baffled, almost in awe, over Eddie’s witticism. Why didn’t she think of that one herself?

“That sounds d-o-p-e.” Dallas says in one breath. “Fuck that’s a great name for a song.”

“Wha-” Steve stares at her in disbelief. “Seriously! Focus, goddammit!”

Quickly, Eddie gets up from the floor with a grunt.

“How can you be so- so… calm!” He exclaims. “You don’t think this is weird?” He looks doubtfully at Dallas while narrowing his eyes. “At all?”

Not entirely true, Dallas thinks to herself, but she gets why it must seem like that. However, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. So she might as well go with it.

“I mean…” Dallas huffs and drags her fingers through her hair. “It’s weird as fuck but…” She grimaces. “Dead serious, I waited for Gandalf to come and ask me to go on a quest to the misty mountains until I was 11… I’ve practiced for the thought of something weird happening by now, even though it’s fucked up as hell.”

“Don’t mess with me, lady.” Eddie says gravely.  

Dallas turns to Eddie and gives him a sharp, narrow look. What does he think about her?

“I don’t ‘mess’ about Tolkien.” She replies shortly.  

“Yeah, yeah, what ev’s.” Steve waves his hand in the air. “What are we going to do?”

Everyone falls silent. Yeah, what are they going to do? But there isn’t much to do at the moment, this late. While Robin, Dustin, Steve and Max argue about whether to wait to go and investigate the trailer park until tomorrow, Dallas and Eddie look at each other. Now that she’s finally found him, she doesn’t intend to let him out of her sight.

“You go.” Dallas interrupts Dustin, Max, Steve and Robin, then assuringly meets Eddie’s eyes again. “You go and- I don’t know, do what you do.. I’ll stay here.” Again she looks back at the others. “After all, you seem to know what to do.”

In the corner of her eye, Dallas notices a small change in Eddie’s demeanor as she proclaims her decision; doesn’t he want her to leave either? Or is that just wishful thinking? To be really honest; where would she go? Home isn’t an option. She would be locked up in her room with mom standing guard outside the door. Of course she could do as she usually does when she wants to leave the house after hours; open the bedroom window, tip toe over the roof tiles of the garage and slide down the downpipe and then sneak as fast as she can through the neighbors’ gardens. But she needs to stay here. Steve looks like he wants to protest, but Robin stops him:

“We’ll be back tomorrow.” She says and smiles kindly at Dallas and Eddie. “Hopefully with some news.”

“Good or bad.” Max grimaces.  

“Yeah.” Dallas nods.

“See you, man.” Dustin gives Eddie a friendly pat on the arm before he, Max and Robin turn to leave. “You too, Dallas.”

Steve lingers for a few seconds, staring at Eddie with his arms crossed. He doesn’t completely trust him and Eddie sure as hell doesn’t trust Steve. But he seems to finally give in with a sigh.

“You better stay safe.” He says before he also leaves the boathouse. “Stay here until we’re gone, ‘kay?”

“Oh you’re really cute when you’re concerned.” Dallas grins teasingly back at him. “Off you go, pretty boy.”

Steve gives her a narrow look, but it’s' Eddie who gets the warning glance. As to say ‘don’t you dare let her get harmed’. It’s equally cute as it’s irritating - as if she couldn’t take care of herself. Eddie doesn’t say anything at all in reply. After Steve’s left and the door has closed behind him, they’re alone. They stand there under silence and listen for the sound of an engine. The car soon starts, backs out of the driveway and carefully rolls away up the road, away from the house.

“I think the coast is clear.” Dallas glances at Eddie. “Are you okay?”

His answer lingers for a few seconds.

“No.”

“Me neither.” Dallas replies honestly and studies him; he’s shivering. No wonder. Feels like a meat licker in here. “Let’s get up to the house.” She states resolutely. ”You’re freezing.”

Under cover of darkness they leave the boathouse and sneak up to the backside of the house. Eddie crouches in front of her, moving over the sloping lawn. The damp grass makes squeaking noises as their sneakers touch down on the ground. All of Dallas’ senses are heightened, as if a nasty monster would appear at any second. Apparently, nothing can be certain anymore. But it’s dead silent and they make their way up the stairs to the back porch. Carefully, while looking around to make sure no one’s seen them, Eddie opens the door and they sneak inside the house. It’s warmer than the damp, cold boathouse, but not exactly warm either. The air goes out of them both as Dallas closes the door.

“Jesus Christ…”

She watches Eddie where he stands, a few meters in front of her. He looks exactly as he did last time she saw him, in the school yard after the game; black jeans, white Reebok’s, leather jacket and his vest. He drags his fingers through the brown long curls, the same shade as dark chocolate, that look soft as silk. It is as soft as silk as well. She has never seen him this close before as she has tonight, felt his skin and his hair towards the palm of her hands. It makes her chest warm, thinking about it. He’s alive and alright. Shocked to his core and distraught, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters. Just as she stands there, taking him in, he looks up at her.

“Sorry, I’m-” Eddie scratches his head. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Yeah.” Dallas chuckles faintly. “You don’t say.”

“Thanks for staying with me.” He continues. “I thought I was going to go mad out here, honestly.”

Dallas looks around the dark room. A combined living room and dining room, furnished but a little messy. So this is Reefer Rick’s house. Or maybe one of his relatives? She’s not sure if she thinks of a person called Reefer Rick as someone who’s particularly interested in decor; paintings with seaside motifs or floral curtains, or curtains at all. It is nevertheless quite well furnished, but messy, as it probably gets when a twenty-something stoner lives there.

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” Dallas shifts her attention back to Eddie. He’s moved further into the house and stands in the doorway to the kitchen and looks at her questioningly. His posture is uncertain, but at the same time he seems calmer than he was out in the boathouse. “Oh-” She utters. “Eh, a little I guess.”

“I’ll… see what I can find.”

He nods and walks into the kitchen, where he begins to rummages around, sounding more like a tank going through the cupboards and drawers, in the search for something to eat. Dallas walks over to the doorway to watch him. Leaned up against the doorway, with her arms crossed over her chest, partially to warm herself, she watches him open drawers and cupboards. The cold from the drafty boathouse went straight to the bone and she could absolutely need something warm in her belly.

“There’s gotta be something…” Eddie mumbles to himself as he opens a drawer filled with cutlery, then closes it with a loud rattle. He sighs as he opens another cabinet. “Hah!” He exclaims triumphantly, but his shoulders drop quickly. “Eh…”

“You found something?” Dallas asks.

From behind the cabinet door, she senses that he is closing his eyes in resignation, before he grabs something and closes the cabinet. He holds up two cans of SpaghettiOs in tomato sauce.

“There’s SpaghettiOs-” He holds up the right can. “And-” He holds up the left. “SpaghettiOs.”

Not what she was up for, but it’ll do in war. Dallas pretends to think, before raising one hand and pointing while squinting.

“SpaghettiOs.” She replies with a nod. “Definitely!”

Eddie nods, throws the can up in the air and catches it again, before he turns around and continues to rummages around, finds a pot and puts it down on the stove and turns on the gas. The blueish yellow flame gives off a wheezing sound. He quickly whisks the cold pasta sauce around inside the pan and when it begins to simmer, an indication that it is somewhat over the temperature ’lukewarm’, then pours it onto two plates. Quickly he hurries past her with one plate in each hand -the bandana crammed into the back pocket of his jeans dangling like a tail behind him- and puts the plates down on the coffee table. He hurries past her again, opens the cutlery drawer and takes out two spoons and scurries out into the room again where he snatches the only candle from a three headed candlestick on the dining table. With mild force he pushes it into an empty beer bottle in the middle of the coffee table, takes out a lighter from a pocket of his jacket and lights it.  

”Bon appetit.”

What the actual heck- Dallas just gapes in surprise. All she can do is to let out a short, amused chuckle as she walks around the couch. Eddie gets down on the floor, makes himself comfortable and holds out his hand towards the plate on the opposite side, as if to say ‘please, have a seat’. Speechless, she walks around the table and sits down on the other side, in awe over the spontaneous, very uncalled-for dinner; the lit candle and the SpaghettiOs makes her think of Lady and the Tramp, minus two singing Italians in white aprons and the fact that they’re not dogs.

They begin to eat under silence; as soon as Dallas starts to eat she realizes that she was ravenously hungry. Even almost-completely hot, canned pasta in tomato sauce tastes like heaven.

“You were hungry after all?” Eddie smirks slightly and scoops a spoon into his mouth.

”Starving.” She replies, not thinking for a dime about the fact that she’s got her mouth full when she answers; mom would’ve rolled her eyes so badly they’d disappear into her head if she saw her daughter practice such bad manners. ”We had some pizza earlier, but I must’ve burned like… thousands of calories cycling around looking for Henderson.”

Amused, she grins a little over it all; it’s been a hell of a day, and here she sits on the floor, at a coffee table, across Eddie Munson in a darkened house, belonging to Hawkins’ household marijuana faucet, eating spaghettiOs in candlelight. A high quality first date, she thinks and smiles down into her portion of tomato sauce and lukewarm pasta.

“What is it?”

“Nothin’.” Dallas looks up and meets Eddie’s wondering, unsure, gaze. “It’s just-” She stirs around the pasta-pieces. “A bit funny, isn’t it? I mean… it’s the first time we’ve…” She bobs her head from left to right, not sure how to categorize exactly what they’re doing. “Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Eddie chuckles, while looking down into his pasta. ”I’ve actually thought about it. Talking to you, I mean.” He quickly puts the spoon in his mouth, pulls it out and chews loudly. “Like- eh, yeah…”

”Yeah, me too.”

”Really?” He stops chewing and looks a little surprised.

”Mhm.” Dallas nods, making her bangs bob a little in front of her eyes.

Eddie smiles faintly. He lowers his gaze towards his plate, where he aimlessly sweeps around his spoon in the tomato sauce, but seems to gather courage and resumes their eye contact over the flame from the candle.

”So… Why didn’t you?” He asks tentatively, without so much as trying to hide his curiosity.

“I don’t know.” She replies honestly. “Just- yeah, I really don’t know.” She smiles. “I’ve wanted to, though. I just… didn’t. And you?”  

”Honestly?” He raises his eyebrows slightly, making his already big eyes bigger. ”I actually didn’t dare.”

The spoon stops halfway to her mouth.

“Why?” Dallas asks.

”You kidding?” Eddie chuckles faintly. ”You’re Dallas Haze!”

Dallas flinches involuntarily, arching one eyebrow in disbelief. It's the way he says it that throws her off balance.

”Yeah?” She makes a disarming shrug. ”I’m not Dracula?”

The dark brown eyes looking back at her seem to think she’s completely out of her mind. It baffles her. What the hell do people go around thinking about her? That she’s dangerous? An ancient vampire ready to snap the neck of people?

“Just- ah, nevermind.” Eddie coughs disarmingly. “So- Your parents, they’re fine with you doing detective work?”

“You mean if my parents know where I am?” Dallas grimaces, wrinkles her nose and upper lip; to be honest, she hasn’t given them much thought. “Honestly, I just… ran. Straight out the door, didn't say anything to anyone.” She chuckles. “They know I’ll be back, sooner or later.”

“They don’t care?”

“They do.” She replies and scoops up some more pasta on her spoon. “They just- give me quite a long leash. Which is quite ironic. I’m a fuckup, but mostly they don’t find out about it. Fool’s luck, I guess.” Dallas looks up at him. “What about you? Does someone wonder where you are?”

“Honestly-” Eddie replies and sighs. “I don’t know. My uncle, maybe.”

“Maybe?” Dallas frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That I don’t know if he’d think I-” Eddie replies and looks away. The thought seems to hurt him immensely. “If I did this.”

“You really think that?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie replies.

“He’s your uncle.” Dallas says. “If that’s equivalent to family, of course he’d believe you.”

“What made you do it?” He asks shortly.

”Do what?” Dallas asks, unsure of what he means.

”Go after me? Try to solve this on your own?”

A bit taken aback by the hasty change of subject Dallas shrugs. All day she has been on autopilot. Her brain and body have taken over her consciousness completely, deciding what she has to do in order to ‘keep on going’. A human machine with a bad heart.

”Guess I just do things without giving it much thought?” Dallas replies, letting her spoon swirl around the remains of her dinner. ”Like running away without a word, not saying where I’m going… when I’ll be back. It’s kind of what I do.” She grimaces. ”Not that it has always benefited me- Anyway, I just knew somehow that you didn’t do it.” She swallows. ”Intuition, maybe. The police were obviously on the wrong track so, to hell with it all, I guess. Life’s just too fragile to… not take any risks.”

”I’m glad you did though.” Eddie says, his voice filled with gratitude. ”I mean, all of you. Really.”

”You got a really weird bunch of friends.” Dallas laughs, causing the candlelight to make a little dance between them. ”Cool, but very weird.”

”Honesty-” Eddie grimaces. ”Out of ’em, Henderson’s the only one I hang out with.”

”Wow? Really?” Dallas laughs with mock surprise and grins widely. ”Yeah, now that you say, I was wondering why I haven’t seen Steve ’the hair’ Harrington strut about in a Hellfire-tee.”

”Ha-ha.”

“They seem nice though.” Dallas continues and pushes the now empty plate away from her. “Who would’ve thought you’d find a bunch of cool weirdos under such… weird circumstances.”

“Yeah…”

“What about your parents then?” She asks straightforwardly. “I mean… has it always been you and your uncle?”

“Nah, not really.” Eddie finishes his meal, chews and swallows. “For a long time, but not always. It was… messy before.” He drags his mouth against the sleeve of the leather jacket. “My old man wasn’t exactly housetrained. Chronically unemployed.”

That’s nicely put, Dallas thinks. She’s got a hunch that he really want to say that his old man was a fucking screw up.

“Eventually he went to jail, that’s all I know.” Eddie continues. “All I got from him was a talent for mischief. Stupid shit like… picking locks and rolling cigarettes.” He presses his lips together. ”Mom did her best I guess. Worked two jobs, slept a lot, smoked a lot. I was left to fend for myself mostly. That went on for a while, but I guess she couldn’t cope with him locked up or something, so-” He shrugs. ”-she left.”

”Just like that?” Dallas frowns.  

”Yup.” Eddie nods. ”It ain’t that bad. Wayne’s dad’s brother, he always liked mom and they got along… I guess that’s why she let me stay with him.”

“When did she-“ Dallas makes a gesture.

“I was… eight. I think.” Eddie shakes his head. ”Doesn’t really matter. Honestly, things got better after then. Wayne’s- he’s great.”

It seems to be a sore subject talking and thinking about his uncle Wayne. Dallas gets an intense whim that she wants to crawl her way around the coffee table and hug him. Once again, they’re enveloped in silence for a moment.

“Somehow-” Dallas smiles faintly. “-for some reason, I’ve got a hunch that your uncle doesn’t think you did it either.”

“How’s your parental situation then?” He asks, in order to talk about something else, that’s clear. Wayne is a subject he seems to prefer to leave behind, maybe in order to maintain some kind of sanity.

“Not that exciting.” Dallas tells him in all honesty. “Dad works at the bank; he’s a wiz with numbers, does all of my math homework. Mom’s a nurse; always worries about people not getting enough vitamins. Jack’s in uni, gets his nutrition from TV dinners and is generally geeky.” She smiles wryly. “Just your normal, boring middle class family. I’m the most fun they’re having, really.”

Eddie can’t help but give her a smile in return, a victory in itself.

“Wow, humble.”

“I know.” Dallas replies theatrically and puts her hand underneath her chin elegantly. “One of my many great qualities.”

As their laughs fade into a cautious, intriguing silence, she observes the young man sitting on the floor across from her, his brown eyes shifting in a myriad of warm brown shades in the flickering light from the candle; from glowing amber to the darkest, richest shade of ebony. Despite everything that has happened, despite the tragedy and the terrible knowledge of what lies beneath their feet, buried deep under Hawkins, she enjoys being in his company. It’s a complex feeling, a bundle of emotions that she can’t sort, but it doesn’t bother her. There is a sense of kinship between them. The whole day has been chaotic to say the least, but here and now, on the dirty carpet with Eddie, everything seems perfectly still and calm.

This is what Chrissy wanted, Dallas thinks to herself. This was exactly what they were talking about hours before she died; bring them together - do her thing as Hawkins High’s self-appointed matchmaker number one. Well, Dallas thinks and lets herself get lost for a brief moment in the brown eyes across from her; here they are at last, but under completely different circumstances from what was intended.

”I think we can sit on the couch.” Eddie expresses tentatively, while discreetly twisting and turning on the carpet. “I mean... if you want to…” He’s really cute, Dallas lets herself think. It’s definitely a prime example of ‘bad timing’, but what the heck. She smiles disarmingly, gets up from the carpet and sits on the couch. It’s not exactly cleaner, there’s an array of stains on the cushions -she doesn’t want to know what type of stains- and on the curving armrest someone has wiped off their hand multiple times from poison-yellow Cheetos-dust. She puts a pillow towards the armrest, decides to keep her Chuck Taylor’s on as she pulls her legs up and rests her back against the pillow. Cautiously, like she's a bird he doesn't want to scare away, Eddie sits down at the opposite side of the couch, leaned up against the other armrest.

“Oh.” It’s as if he remembers something and he holds out his index finger in the air; the only thing missing is a light bulb above his soft brown curls. “Wait.”

Hastily he gets up and hurries away towards a room at the back. Dallas turns her head and looks after him, curious and confused. He comes right back with something big, bundled up in his arms. It’s a large blanket that he throws over the backrest, over her legs. The plaid wool in rusty yellow and blue feels incredibly pleasant as it lands on top of her.  

“There, better.”

“Thanks.” She manages to say in honest surprise.

“It’s cold as hell here at night.” Eddie states.

Once again he sits down at the opposite side, imitates her by pulling his legs up and resting his back against the armrest so that they can look at each other. Dallas shakes out the blanket over them both, adjusts it around her legs.

“Might as well warm both of us up a bit.” She states and makes herself comfortable.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Eddie tries stoically,  but lets her adjust the blanket around his legs.

Is he blushing? While Eddie’s gaze wanders off to a spot behind her right ear, in desperate search of something to rest his gaze at besides her, the corners of Dallas’ lips turn upwards in a soft smile. He’s really thoughtful, a true gentleman. She's convinced that this qualifies as gentlemanlike. It makes an immense impression on her and like Eddie Munson’s whole persona, it fascinates her.

“Are you okay?” Dallas asks. “I mean… under the circumstances.”

“I’m not alone anymore.”

It’s more like a whisper, and a deep red color rises on his cheeks as he utters the faint words, but it makes her feel warm inside and not only because of the thick wool blanket. They sit under silence for a while, listening to the nothingness around them. It’s dead quiet. The lake is calm and there’s no wind.

”What happened?” Dallas wraps her arms around her drawn legs, puts her chin to rest on her knees and observes Eddie. She knows it might disturb the peaceful atmosphere that’s settled in the dark cabin, but she needs to know. ”I mean… Chrissy said you bumped into each other and started talking. I know that’s not really true now, so, what really happened?”

Eddie hesitates at first; what does she want out of it? No wonder he’s hesitating, Dallas thinks, but she feels relieved when Eddie begins to speak.

“She contacted me, Chrissy - yesterday. Found a note in my locker. I didn't know it was her at first-” He hesitates slightly. “She wanted to buy… stuff. Weed. I thought so anyway. We met at my usual spot, the rotten bench behind the football field.” Once again he pauses, as if to try and remember the scene. “She was there waiting when I arrived. At first I was… surprised. I hadn’t expected her to be there, thought it was someone else.” He let out a chuckle, as the memory actually amuses him. “But- I don’t know, something was off with her. One moment she was anxious. As if she was really scared of something. Then she-” He sighs. ”She was fine, I guess? We… talked, laughed even. I even offered her a discount. Then she asked if I had something stronger than weed.”

Dallas’ stomach shrinks to the size of a grape. Just how bad was it, exactly? How much did Chrissy want to escape herself? It occurs to Dallas that she can’t have had the slightest idea of the magnitude of Chrissy’s agony. Eddie looks tormented at the sight of her.

“And then?” Dallas manages to say.

“I-” The words seem to get stuck on the way out of Eddie’s mouth. “I offered her something stronger, since she asked for it. I mean… she had the money. We decided I’d pick her up after the game. Won’t exactly walk around school with Special K-”

“What’s that?”

“Ketamine.” Eddie explains. “Gives you a high, makes you… forget shit for a while, I guess you could say. She was fine until we got to my trailer, we talked on the way there and all. Then she got antsy again. I just thought she was nervous.” He lowers his head. “You know what happened next.” Eddie looks up at her; his gaze is imploring, as if he really struggles with his conscience. “But she was… fine.” Then he seems to remember something. “There was something she said. About her feeling like she was losing her mind. I didn’t really think about it at first, just laughed it off honestly. But now-” Once again Eddie pauses. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He apologizes.

Whatever happened, whatever Chrissy wanted to buy and Eddie was willing to sell to her, Dallas can’t feel any grudge. How could she? But Eddie seems to think otherwise.

“For what?” Dallas asks. “You made her feel safe enough to take off the mask. How could I possibly be… angry with you for that? She didn’t do that to… ‘anyone’. Not even Jason.”

”Stop screwing with me.”

”I don’t! You know Jason’s a self-centered ass!” Dallas says with emphasis. “He wouldn’t see problems if they were right in front of him. I know for a fact that Chrissy hadn’t told him about… well, anything going on with her. I think she was afraid of losing him if he saw the cracks in the facade. Can’t imagine why, but- I guess she saw something in him.”

Beneath the curly bangs, she can see Eddie furrowing his brows in disbelief.

”What?”

”Yeah I’m trying to figure that one out.” Dallas puts her hand over his and looks him deep in the eyes. ”Look… I know it maybe doesn’t make any of this better, but what you did for her- what I noticed your little talk did to her, I’m sure you did more than you think. Because you didn’t judge her.” She smiles. “When we’d been friends for… a few weeks I believe, she gave me this-” From the neckline of her tee she fishes a silver chain, with a pendant shaped like one half of a silver heart. “It’s dorky, but-” The sight of the jewelry makes her throat thicken. “When she gave it to me she said that… when she met me, she hadn’t felt that safe in a long time. She said she finally had someone she could talk to. That’s what’s important. That someone sees you. We made a pinky promise-” Dallas holds out her wonky little finger, wiggles it around. “that we’d be there for one another. Through it all. No matter what.” Dallas sighs. “That’s where it gets… weird.”

“What?”

“That thing you said. About her losing her mind.” Dallas clarifies and meets Eddie’s gaze. “Did she know something? I mean… about this weird stuff.” She drags her hands over her face. “I mean… had NO idea.”

“Well, I mean- how could you?”

“I know. But- if something was going on, why didn’t she talk to me? I just-“ Dallas rests her head against the cushion of the backrest. “Except for the regular bullshit with her mom, she seemed… fine. Was it all just a lie? That we’d talk about everything, no matter what?”

“I think-” Eddie straightens up on the couch, causing him to get a bit closer to her. “I mean, maybe she actually was fine when she was with you?” He looks at her from underneath the brown curls. “Maybe she didn’t think about the bad when you two hung out.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“No, I mean it! You obviously cared about her a lot. You set out to try and solve all this on your own.” Eddie tries to smile. “That’s... brave.”

It’s as if that particular word seems to get stuck in his throat, growing to a cancerous lump of guilt and shame. Eddie seems to shrink in stature, as if the word reminds him of something he wants to repress. Dallas understands what he’s thinking.

“Hey, knock it out!” She snaps. “You did what anyone would do. Regardless…” She shakes her head. “Whatever… ‘thing’ that did that to Chris- no one blames YOU for it. Not at all.”

“Really?” Eddie huffs.

“You know what I mean.” Dallas corrects herself. “WE know. That’s what matters. And Dustin and the others, and I, will do whatever they can to make this right. We’ll solve this. Right now, we need to lay low and wait for news. And figure out why this Vecna-ass targeted Chrissy in the first place. Or else I’ll go fucking mad.”

Silence follows upon her words.

“I still can’t believe it.” He says all of a sudden.

“What?”

“You and Chrissy Cunningham being cousins.”

“Pigs can fly too?” Dallas asks with a faint smile and chuckles dryly. “Yeah, you’re not alone. We didn’t have any contact when we were younger.” She fiddles around with the small half-heart pendant.. “Our mom’s- they don’t get along, at all. It was all coincidence that we met when I moved back. It was like we’d known each other all along. So strange, when you think about it. I wasn’t exactly in a good place, but somehow Chrissy- she understood. At least she didn’t judge. She was kind through and through. Too kind.” Dallas sighs and looks up into the ceiling. “God, I have defended her so many times. And she stood up for me, made the jocks leave me alone. Let me be completely…” She shrugs. “Invisible.”

Then something inside of her breaks. The cracks that have grown deeper in her soul during the day, that she has fought against the whole day in order to be able to keep on going, break apart. Dallas bursts out in tears and collides into Eddie’s shoulder. He receives her with open arms and strokes her, a bit gawky, over her back as she digs her face into his shoulder and neck.

“I’ve got you, I’m here.” He soothes. “I got you.”

Dallas can’t answer. She’s shaking from crying. There is so much pent-up sadness that just spills out and she’s ashamed at the same time that she can’t bear to keep the sadness inside anymore. To hell with it! It’s fine if Eddie thinks she’s a mess. But he holds her, comforts her and strokes her back, softly, up towards her head. And she lets him do it, because it feels as if she will die of grief. It hurts so much, so excruciatingly and she needs the comfort, the closeness of someone who somehow understands. Eddie is just the one that she needs right here and now; the one person that last saw Chrissy, someone who, somehow, can relate.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Eddie repeats in the softest voice she’s ever heard.

“It’s just-“ She sniffles when she finally tears her face from his denim vest and is able to talk again. “Fuck! I don’t know why I’m crying.”  

“It’s okay.”

“No! No it’s NOT!” Dallas sniffles and frees herself from Eddie's embrace. “Chrissy’s dead!” Angrily, she draws her fingers under her eyes, tries to collect herself; what a mess she is. “It’s fucking… crappy… shit!” She explodes and again the tears start to stream, but she doesn’t implode of grief this time. Now the tears are angry as she desperately tries to prevent them from coming. “Son of a bitch.” She swears. “What a fucking mess I am.”

“You’re not that bad.” Eddie says gawky, but changes his mind as fast as the words slipped out of his lips. “I mean… You’re not bad at all. You’re just…” He holds his breath. “It’s okay.”

Through the tears and the sadness she manages to let out a laugh, or something in between a laugh and a sob.

“Thanks. I guess.” She sniffles and takes a few deep breaths. “I just… haven’t really… you know, had time to cry I guess.”

“That thing you said.” Eddie starts. “About being invisible. You’re not invisible.”

“I know that-” Dallas dries her runny nose. “That’s physically impossible. Or I don’t know anymore, if there’s goddamn evil demon-wizards walking around Hawkins killing people-”

“No, I mean- that part’s true but-” Eddie pauses. “I see you. I’ve seen you all year. Trust me.”

Instantly, as it dawns on him what he said, Eddie blushes deeply and it looks like he wants to become a part of the couch.

“What?” Dallas gazes searchingly into the big Bambi eyes, which look back at her- no, they envelop her completely, even though they flicker and Eddie looks scared beyond measures for letting his tongue slip like that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tentatively he smiles, as it dawns on him that she’s not angry over his gambit. “I do.”

Following those words, Eddie gets up from the couch. Still not taking his eyes from her, he scurries in a funny way -an obvious attempt to cheer her up- out into the kitchen and opens the freezer. Dallas looks after him curiously. What is he going to come up with now? When he returns he’s holding two bottles of lager in between his fingers.

“You drink?” He offers her a bottle.

“Pigs could fly, right?” Dallas pops the cap with her hand; a party trick she practiced for weeks leading up to her first real party when they lived in Texas.

She’s not Amish. Besides, she’s- what? 72 hours away from turning 18 and has just bellowed her eyes out. She needs something for her nerves, pronto!

“Thought so.” Eddie sits down opposite her on the couch again. “There was Walter's two hours ago.” He excuses. “And Bud’s earlier in the morning.” He holds the bottle out. “Cheers.”

”Cheers.” She replies. “To Chrissy.”

They clinks the bottles together, and drinks. The slightly bitter, but quite good, drink washes down the salty tears that have stuck in the throat.

“Nice of the house owner to invite us to beer and canned goods.”

“Rick’s in jail. Don’t really know when he’ll get out.”

”He can't have been locked up for long.” Dallas states. ”The electricity isn’t off.”

”Nah.” Eddie takes another sip of his beer. ”He’ll be out soon, probably.”

”You’ve known each other for long?” She asks, puts her beer down on the coffee table and takes her biker jacket off. She’s finally warm, thanks to the blanket. “You and Rick?”

”Some years. He was a senior when I was in eleventh grade. The rest is… history.” Eddie lets out a quiet laugh. “Not exactly a secret he was already selling back then. He handed the torch over to me when he left.”

“And the badly kept secret about who’s got the good stuff.” Dallas holds up her beer and winks.

“Yeah… nothing I’m proud of, to be fair.”

“Rather a merchant than a jock though.”

“True.” Eddie nods. “Never heard that one before. Merchant.”

“Sounds more…” Dallas tries to find a good word to describe what she means. “Tolkien-esque?”

“Yeah, what about that?” Eddie leans forward and studies her closely. “You like Tolkien?”

Dallas has to laugh out loud. What a fucking understatement. That she tells him too. She’s been a loyal Tolkienist ever since she saw the books in grandpa’s bookshelf when she was eleven. The paperback editions with illustrations made by Barbara Remington. She doesn’t remember that much about grandpa besides that he was very, very big, didn’t say much and passively got her completely hooked on dragons, elves and silmarils. He gave her the books and from there on, she started collecting each and every edition of the books, reading them over and over again. When Dallas’ done spilling her entire heart out about her love- no, her passion for Tolkien’s work, Eddie stares at her with a gaping mouth. A drop of saliva clings desperately to the corner of his mouth. Quickly he lets his tongue haul it back into his mouth as he opens and closes his mouth in awe.

“Wow.”

“Wow? That’s all you can say?” Dallas asks and holds out her hands, almost spilling beer on the couch.  

“Eh, yeah.” Eddie nods and furrows his right eyebrow. “Why the fuck haven’t you said anything!?”

“Well, I didn’t know you had a Tolkien club too?”

“I don’t, but I could’ve had one if you’d said something!” He exclaims. “I fucking LOVE Tolkien! What kind of bullshit is that, keeping that stuff a secret from the Dungeon Master!”

Holy shit, what a sensitive subject, Dallas thinks to herself and makes a grimace. Or he’s just overly excited to meet a like-minded. Dallas guesses the second. It’s the fact that he titles himself Dungeon Master even outside the world of fantasy games that makes her mind occupied with other thoughts; jeez Louise, he’s a mega-dork and she’s an ultra-mega-dork for finding it charming.

“Fine, Dungeon Master. No more secrets.” She takes another sip of beer. “If my interest in Tolkien counts as a secret in your book, which I have to inform you- it actually doesn’t!”  

They banter like friends, which amuses her greatly. Dallas can't help but get the feeling that they’ve known each other for much longer than just a couple of hours, barely a whole day all in all. A gnawing, irritating hindsight gnaws in the back of her head; why didn't she make the first move sooner?

Eddies pov:

The rush, the flustering wave of emotions he felt when she painted for him the vivid, captivating picture of her passion for Tolkien’s work, like a Renaissance artist creating a masterpiece, has calmed down. Eddie’s back to a somewhat normal pulse. The nervousness he felt earlier has subsided as he’s emptied his beer bottle and their conversation has flowed on like a running stream. The candle on the coffee table has shrunken down more than half its size now and has tricked down the glass bottle.

”So, what really is your big, bad secret, Dallas… Velvet… Haze.”

Mildly intoxicated by alcohol, too much emotions and too little sleep, he pushes himself up to a straight position and leans slightly closer towards her. A bold move that doesn’t make her flinch, but surely makes his blood pump slightly faster.

”You really wanna know that?” Dallas leans a little closer as well.

”I do.” Eddie nods.

”How bad?” She smirks.

Man, she got a pretty smile, Eddie thinks and must force his body heat not to boil over; she’s as radiant, as warm and bright as the fucking sun.

”Very bad.”

Dallas has him on hold for a moment, his anticipation increasing with each millisecond. She lets the edge of her teeth and her lips brush over her knuckles as she lays her chin to rest in the palm of her hand. Her deep blue gaze intensifies.  

”I died once.”

Silence.

”You-” Eddie looks at her, not sure he heard her correct. ”-died?”

”Mhm.” Dallas nods. She could just as easily have said it was raining. “I did.”

For christ sake- What will he say? He was not prepared for this. He had expected something less... shocking. That she wasn’t a virgin, that she WAS a virgin, that she had shoplifted or whatever; anything except that she ‘died once’. Is it the way she said it that bothers him? So carefree, as if she told him that the sky is blue. The fair maiden in shining armor is risen from the dead.

“Cardiac arrest.” She explains, without him even having to ask. ”During gym class. I was ten. Collapsed like a house of cards. The doctors-” She sits up straight on the couch and draws a line with her finger over the print of her t-shirt, the length of her sternum. ”-cut me open from here to here, cracked my sternum and all to get to the heart to do the cardiac surgery. I’m basically bolted shut. Left me with a pretty nasty scar. I made it, but my heart stopped beating for quite a while, so for a brief moment I died.”

“Did they- you know… why-”

“A congenital heart defect since birth.” The explanation comes quickly and naturally, once again without him having to utter a full sentence. “After I regained strength and got better, I just felt… differently. Not in a bad way. Just that… I knew that I had to live my life differently. Cheesy as hell but- I mean, at any minute it can be over. And when that happens I don’t want to regret things. Feel like I’ve held myself back. So I just live and don’t give a damn about things. It drives my parents mad but I honestly don’t care. It’s selfish as hell but…” Dallas chuckles dryly. “I just want to live.”

”Sounds beautiful.” Eddie can’t stop the words from being said. They fall out of his mouth, straight from the heart.

”It's idiotic.” Dallas corrects him forthright. ”But yeah… I guess it has its… poetic tone to it.” She gets a faint, cheeky grin on her lips. “That comes with death, I suppose. That and being really fucking reckless.”

“You think about it often?” He wonders. “All this?”

She shakes her head, making the long brown hair dance around her face.

“It doesn’t bother me, to be honest.” She replies. ”Plus the scar looks pretty bad ass. Mom hasn’t let go of it though. Every year on my birthday she cries. It’s... excruciating.” “Like I’m a walking open wound.” She scoffs and adjusts on the couch. “There’s my darkness. My secret.”  

He needs something to calm him down from this staggering revelation. With trembling fingers he fumbles for a spliff in the inner pocket of his jacket; he’s glad he’s still wearing it, he has suddenly begun to freeze with discomfort, despite the blanket wrapped around his legs.

”Do you mind?” He wonders and holds the joint up.

”Not at all.” Dallas shrugs simply.

With shivering fingers he lights it and takes a puff.  

”Gimme it.” Dallas holds out her hand, forming her index finger and thumb into a grip perfectly fitted for a cigarette or a spliff. ”It’s not my first time.” She says tiredly in response to his hesitating expression, eyes gleaming with repressed rascality.

Eddie hesitates for a few further seconds, then puts it in between her fingers, watches as her lips closes around the crinkled, white paper roll. She filters the smoke easily between her teeth on the second exhale.

”I mean, you have to have smoked a joint or two before dying, right?” She takes another puff and lets the white smoke dance out of her mouth. “THAT and give Kip Winger a BJ.”

”Wha-” Eddie’s eyes widens.

”Gotcha!” She grins cheekily and gives the spliff back. ”If I’d say Bon Jovi you’d know I was joking. He’s too pretty. You wouldn’t believe me.”

Frantically, almost feverishly, Eddie takes a deep puff.

“What about you then?” Dallas asks and empties her beer bottle. “What’s Dungeon Master Eddie Munson’s big bad secret? Got any?”

Crap! She would only know. But Eddie would rather walk on hot coal than kiss and tell. He’s a coward. A coward infatuated with her.

“None I’d share.”

“Thought we said no secrets?”

“We almost burned down the Hideout.” He reveals. “Jeff dropped a cigarette in a bin. Burned like hell! Had to smother it by sitting on the bin.” Eddie laughs at the memory. “Burned a hole in my pants and boxers.”

“It’s fun, but… really?” Dallas states truthfully, grabs the joint out of his mouth and puts it between her lips and winks. “That’s just what rock bands do, right?”  

She’s so incredibly cool. Eddie wants to rub his eyes to really see so that he’s not lost in a dream where he’s smoking a spliff with the most awesome girl in Indiana.  

It strikes him that he’s never been this close to her in real life, or talked to her for that matter; what happens in his dreams, after he turns off the lamp on the bedside table is a completely different matter. All the time he closed his eyes, but couldn't fall asleep because he was thinking about her. His vivid imagination really gained momentum in the evening and he imagined how he would sweep her off the ground and take her in his arms in a dramatic, emotional embrace; like when Aragorn saw Arwen for the first time, or when Beren saw Lúthien dance underneath the moonrise.  

He’d always pictured their first meeting, their REAL first meeting, so much differently. Surely it would’ve been most ideal if it was in Middle Earth, but for the sake of reality; maybe it had been after a gig at the Hideout. How the hell he had managed to invite her over there was a question he didn't have a good answer for, but somehow he must’ve plucked up the courage to ask her to see them perform. At least it was more realistic than meeting her in the forests of Rivendell.

His thoughts have been incoherent, unrealistic, downright silly fairy tales. ”Them”, him and Dallas Haze, had up until tonight been figments of his imagination.

Now it all feels surreal; he’s sitting 60 inches away from her and he can’t remember when he had this much fun last time.  

“So-” Dallas looks at the joint in her hand and puts her forehead in three deep wrinkles, making her expression very rugged, theatrical. “-concerning pipe-weed!” She then rumbles in a deep voice, before she bursts and starts to laugh.

Eddie can’t help himself. He explodes in laughter, buries his face between his pulled up knees and looks up at her through the tousled brown curls. The pot has done its magic. Still laughing, Eddie clears his throat:

“Well put, old chap.” He replies in a deep voice.  

His reply causes her to laugh even more. It’s like sweet music; loud, high-sounding and violently contagious.

“These are some splendid longbottom leaves, old Toby.” Once again she lowers her voice, before it cracks into a hearty laugh. “Oh fuck-” Dallas dries her eyes, now leaking with tears again. “I’m fucking crying again.” And she laughs even more. “Aah, what the hell.”

Tears bawl out of her eyes, entangles her eyelashes and stripes her cheeks with thin rivers of salty tears, but the chiming laugh that resembles a symphony, the amazing smile, the improvised recitation of Tolkien’s work - has she EVER been prettier?

“It’s crazy but-“ Dallas looks at him while dragging the neckline-fabric of her tee over her eyes, to dry them. The shadows underneath her eyes give her away; she’s tired. “I’m actually having a great time. Fucking brilliant, actually.”

Both of them startle when they hear a slight tinkling sound and it suddenly goes dark. The candle has burnt out and the remaining candle stump has fallen into the beer bottle.

”I think that’s a sign we need to sleep.” She says and sniffles. “I’m really tired… I can imagine you need some sleep too?”

You have no idea, Eddie thinks, nodding back at her. He’s completely exhausted to be more precise. At the same time, he’s fucking terrified of sleeping. As if she can read his mind, Dallas grabs his hand and squeezes it.

“I'm not going anywhere.” She assures him. I’ll be here, on the couch.”

“You sure?” Eddie wonders. “I mean… there’s a bedroom-”

“I’m fine.” She insists, nodding towards the pull out-sofa. “Go on, off to bed.”

Reluctantly, Eddie wriggles his hand out of hers and gets up from the couch. The blanket slips off him and he shivers instinctively, wanting more than anything to stay there, close to her where he feels the safest. But that would be inappropriate. He walks across the creaky floor to the pull out-sofa. It’s just two meters between them, but it could just as well have been a mile.

For natural reasons he hesitates to undress, deciding to keep his clothes on. However, he kicks off his shoes, but he keeps the jacket on; the blankets are not as warm as the one he fetched for her. With his heart pounding hard in his chest, Eddie crawls under the blankets on the squeaky sofa and puts his head on the pillow. From down at the foot he hears Dallas adjust the warm woolen blanket and make herself comfortable. It’s a cozy, pleasant sound.

”I’m glad you’re here.” He says softly, looking down towards his feet.

Dallas’ answer linger for a few seconds.

”Me too.” She replies; Eddie’s pretty damn sure he can hear her smile. ”Good night, Eddie.”

”Good night.”

How she succeeds is a mystery, but soon she has fallen asleep. Eddie on the other hand can’t fall asleep. His head spins like a round up ride at a funfair. This time his insomnia is not due to pure panic and anxiety.

He’s talked to her, Dallas Haze. She is here, with him. It’s only the two of them. He’s been invited into her sphere and gotten the chance to know the person behind the ethereal, mystical facade. And he’s more terrified than ever, wants her more than ever. The bar is set and it is high, dizzyingly high.

A faint sound makes Eddie pause his breathing to prick up his ears and listen carefully. What was that? His lips curl into a smile as he realizes it’s Dallas, snoring. Carefully Eddie sits up, doing his best to keep the springs from creaking. Through the darkness all he can see is the silhouette of her on the couch, except for a thin streak of moonlight that manages to find its way through a gap in the blinds and lands on the side of her head. Her face is turned away from him. For some reason Eddie gets out of bed. Carefully he tiptoes his way over the floor in his tube socks, over to the couch where Dallas’ lies. There he squats besides her, so his head is right next to hers. He’s well aware that if she wakes up, she’ll go fucking feral over him being a creep, but he has to see that she’s actually real.

His heart beats faster and faster and stops as she turns her face, directing it towards him. Her mouth moves, she groans and then continues to snore faintly.

Jesus Christ, she’s so insanely pretty. He’d never thought he would ever get to see her like this. All the times he’s ogled her from afar in school she always looked so stone cold. Fierce and very, very cool. Now she looks so kind. Calm and with the little mouth slightly open. Oh, how he would like to caress her cheek, cup it in his hand and just stay that way. But, he doesn’t - knows very well it’s wrong. At least I got my self-control intact, he thinks and smiles at her sleeping, serene face. Instead, he withdraws to the pull out-sofa again. He grabs the pillows and throws them at the foot of the bed. He’s too cowardly to admit it to her when she’s awake, but he feels much safer the closer he is to her. Eddie lets his body fall back onto the squeaky mattress where he returns to staring at the ceiling as he adjusts the blanket over him. Better. Much better. He stretches his head, looks at Dallas. Still sleeping.

“Night, Dallas Haze.” Eddie whispers out into the darkness.

At least there is one good thing in my life, he thinks and closes his eyes, feels a calm he hasn’t felt in probably two days descend on his mind.

He is lulled into a restless sleep; he tosses and turns, sees horrible images inside his head. Like a broken record. Chrissy pinned against the ceiling, her bones snapping and her eyes bleeding. He runs, flees like a craven, but even though he runs for his life he’s not going anywhere. And then he hears a desperate scream calling out for him.

“Eddie!”

“Dallas!”

All of a sudden all he can see is darkness, a thick terrifying darkness surrounding him. Where is she?

“Eddie! Help!”

“I’m coming- I- I’m coming!”  

At the same moment that a heart wrenching scream is heard and causes the blood in his veins to freeze to ice, Eddie’s torn from his sleep by a noise. He sits straight up in the creaky pull out-sofa and looks around, not entirely sure if he’s asleep or awake.

It’s morning and the pale morning light peeks into the creaks of the blinds in the living room. The sound that pulled him out of his nightmare was the sound of a car. Shit! Quickly Eddie jumps into his shoes and stumbles over to Dallas on the couch.  

“Hey- hey-” He hisses and shakes her violently by her shoulder. “Wakey, wakey.”

“Wha- what?” Dallas shoves the hair out of her eyes and looks around groggily.

“Gotta go.” Eddie looks at her seriously. “Someone’s coming.”

He doesn’t have time to explain further. quickly he pulls her up from the couch and drags her by the hand towards the back door. Carefully he opens the door, checks that the coast is clear before they, crouching, hurries down the stairs. Behind him he hears a car roll up on the driveway at the other side of the house. The air is chilly and over the lake a thin layer of fog simmers. He sets his sights on the boathouse and pulls her inside and closes the door.

“Now what?” Dallas asks and rubs her arms to increase her body temperature. Her jacket’s left inside the house.

“In here.” Eddie lifts the tarp from the boat.

He helps Dallas climb into the boat, grabs the broken beer bottle from the floor that he used on Harrington last night and then jumps down into the boat beside her. He pulls the tarp back over them, whereupon they lie dead still, dead quiet, listening for sounds. Footsteps. His heart beats frantically in his chest. They lie so close together in the boat that Eddie can feel her radiant body heat as her body is being pressed up against his. But she doesn’t attempt to scoot. Instead she lies completely still. Her hair is pushed up in his face and even though Eddie has a band of fear that tightens for each second around his chest, he can’t help inhaling the scent of it. But his inhalation of her hair and oxygen halts when the door to the boathouse opens. In a flash, they lie still and listen to the sound of shoes, several pairs, moving across the floorboards. Through the blue plastic tarp they see silhouettes move closer to the boat. His heart is about to burst out of his chest. It crinkles ominously when a hand grasps around an edge of the blue tarp.

Fuck…

[esamastation]

Oooh, what a New Years' Treat, thank you ! It's love to see your take on Cody travels back in time, for Obi Wan first, and Fix the timeline second

Obi-Wan is in the process of dusting his outer robes off and wrestling with the wistful thought of taking a shower, when there's a buzz at his cabin door, short and perfunctory. 

Blinking and looking up, Obi-Wan stares at the door for a moment – no one buzzes a door on a spaceship the size of the Negotiator, not without comming first to check to see if he was actually in his cabin, and no one had. Strange. Maybe a clone with an issue, one who'd seen him retire for the night cycle?

"Come in," he calls and then, recalling that there's several inches of metal in between and sound likely wouldn't even carry, he walks to the door controls and opens it.

It is a clone behind his door – his new commander, even. "Cody?" Obi-Wan says, a little surprised. They'd just bid their goodnights on the bridge not half an hour ago. "Is something the matter?"

For a long moment the clone commander stares at him, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening. Something is wrong, Obi-Wan sees it – and then, concentrating, feel it. Cody looks surprised to see him, and he feels… shaken, even shocked.

"Sir," the clone says, strangled, and then just stands there.

Obi-Wan considers the potential scenarios that might lead the Commander to calling upon him at the turn of the night cycle, and like this too – without calling ahead, just coming to his door. It couldn't be an official issue, it couldn't be dangerous to the ship or any kind of transmission they might've gotten, Cody would've commed Obi-Wan, surely. It has to be something else, something urgent enough that it couldn't wait, and… private enough that he didn't want to use comms.

Drat. They've been in space for what, five days? Do they have issues already? Already?

"Dear me," Obi-Wan murmurs and then moves aside. "Come in, Commander. I'm afraid I have little to offer in the way of hospitality, but I can certainly brew a strong cup of tea, if that's necessary. Come in."

That makes the Commander startle, his shoulders coming up and then going down again. There's visible hesitation before he steps in. He's trembling and Obi-Wan feels a dawning dread as he closes his door and then firmly locks it, turning on all privacy settings.

He's only been working with the commander for a short period of time but he can tell a man with a certain mettle when he sees one, and Cody's is made of durasteel at least. Whatever could've happened in such a short period of time to make the man shake?

Cody stands in Obi-Wan's cabin, radiating unease and uncertainty, and Obi-Wan lets his instincts from years of teaching Anakin take over – he directs the man into a chair. "Take a load off, breathe in and out, and let go of your anxiety. Whatever it is, we will deal with it."

Cody sits, staring at him with an alarming mixture of wistful hope and utter dread, like he's the man's only hope. Obi-Wan turns away to get the tea, pretending to himself he's giving the man and his emotions some privacy, when in fact it might be he himself who needs a moment. It has been a while since anyone's given him such an worrisome mixture of emotions, and – stars.

Obi-Wan knew something of what war was like, he knew some of the horrors inflicted upon those who fought in it. Abuse was a plague of many military forces and he'd braced himself for the possibility of it infecting his, too. It was bound to, with the difficult origins of the clones – already there is prejudice. But not, not this soon.

He makes the tea, and Cody accepts it with hands that have finally stopped shaking.

Then the man says, quiet, almost inaudible, "The last words Qui-Gon Jinn said to you were about Skywalker. Promise me you will train the boy. He is the chosen one. He will bring balance. Train him."

Only thje fact that it feels like every muscle of his body suddenly gets frozen keeps Obi-Wan from dropping his own cup of hot tea right in his lap. "W-what?" he says. "How do you – "

"You told me – will tell me a couple years from now," Cody says. "We were trapped under some rubble and you couldn't shift it with the Force without risking further collapse. It looked like a slow death, we thought we were either going to suffocate or die in a collapse once there was no other chance and you would have to use the Force. We said our goodbyes, just in case, and you told me about Qui-Gon Jinn, how much the words plagued you. How much you wished he'd said goodbye, a single word to you, anything that acknowledged what you had."

The hot tea spills over Obi-Wan's fingers, and he hurriedly sets the cup down, not taking his eyes away from the obviously shaken clone.

"I'm sorry," Cody says, looking down at his own cup, fingers curled all around it. "I thought it would be the best way to – to prove it to you. It's not something you'd admit, unless under duress and to someone you trust. You said so yourself, so…"

He trails away and the silence that follows feels like the strangest sort of catharsis Obi-Wan has ever felt. It's like a weight has gone off the clone's shoulders – and Obi-Wan fears it landed on his shoulders instead.

"I – told you. Couple years from now?" Obi-Wan says, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, how – did you – did you see this on your mind, or –?"

Cody looks up at that, meeting his eyes. "No, it wasn't a vision, I'm not Force sensitive. I lived through it. And a lot of other things – about a decade's worth of things," he says. "It was a Force artefact Sidious created, a last resort kind of thing, just in case. I –" he stops and then draws a breath, bracing himself. "Sir, I'm from the future."

He doesn't feel like he's lying, is the strangest thing. "Cody, we just met on the bridge, it wasn't even a full hour ago –" Obi-Wan says, wondering what on earth could've happened in thirty minutes!

Cody blinks at him, slow, and there's something strange about the way he's looking at him, like he's… drinking him up, trying to memorise every detail. "Probably, yeah. Happened to me ten years ago, though, I don't remember. I just – it just came to, I came here, it was…" he glances at his bracer, just long enough to check the chrono, and then goes back to staring at Obi-Wan. "Fifteen minutes ago. When I realised where I was, and that you'd probably be here… I came straight to you."

Obi-Wan swallows. "Well, I am – utterly gratified by your trust in me, but…" he trails away, eying the man with confusion and trepidation and – he's not sure what else. There's so much emotion coming off the man that Obi-Wan can barely manage his own disquiet apart from it. "Why?" he asks. "And who is Sidious?"

"The Sith Lord – Dooku's and Maul's Master. Vader's too," Cody says, plainly, like he isn't suddenly spouting the sort of intelligence Jedi Shadows haven't literally been dying to figure out. "The mastermind behind the war – and us clones. He wins, sir. That's why I'm here. To, to stop it."

"Oh," Obi-Wan says, his voice quiet. "I, uh… I think I will need you to tell me – everything. From the beginning. Can you do that for me, Cody?"

"For you, sir, anything," Cody says vehemently, sending a shudder running down Obi-Wan's back he's not sure is fear or thrill. He can feel his own back straightening at the feel of it, and draws a quick, soothing breath, which does nothing to quell the rapid beating of his heart.

Stars only knows what he'd done to earn the man's faith and loyalty, but by Force, he's going to try to live up to it.