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lalunanymph · 22 days ago

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WHERE THE DATURAS BLOOM

syp. they sent her to tarus to die as a mockery to him, the fiend—offering a fragile, pitiful thing who can barely stand on her own two feet, as if her weakness would be his downfall. yet, they never knew the strength she found, nor the love that bloomed in her heart where the daturas dared to grow, once she opened her arms and heart to the fearsome dragon.

tags. sacrificial bride!reader, injuries, blood, heavy angst, fluff, healing, explicit smut, tail sucking, nipple play, mentions of lactation, oral sex, light restraints using a dragon tail, virginity loss, biting, marking, pet names (sweetness, kitten, little one), monsterfucking, two dicks!Sylus, breeding, mild cumflation, cockwarming, double peneration, mentions of anal, nesting, dragon senses, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of drugging, kidnapping, torture, mentions of miscarriage, near death experience, severe injuries, visual impairment, mind control, gore, language, tension, fluff, romance, soft!sylus, flashbacks, spoilers for beyond cloudfall myth, happy ending, 20k+ word count

Those who stare at the abyss will find the abyss staring back.

The old adage rings in your head as the rocky walls close in on you, blood seeping from your open wounds and dripping onto the floor.

Thunder rips through the night sky and rain splashes on your face. The sounds of shouts and jeers fill the air as the men who threw you over the ledge abandoned you to a fate worse than death. Your screams for mercy are ignored, their backs turned on the sacrificial bride to the Fiend. The ceremonial garbs they clad you in were little more than skimpy adornments, and you gasp, hearing a terrifying rattle in the air.

A voice fills your mind, invasive and grating, and you feel cold drafts swirling around you, beckoning you to step forward into a cave with no end in sight.

You shiver, head ringing, as the voice urges you forward—low and seductive. It echoes with the smugness of a predator finally trapping its prey.

Step closer… let me take a look at you.

As if you’re a marionette on strings, your feet pull you forward, right to a rocky alcove where the sound of chains rattle and the glint of ruby red eyes stare at you. The air becomes suffocating, as if there’s a darkness devouring all the remaining light.

Something primal in you stirs, and you feel the first flickers of light forming in your hand, right where your pulse is jumping erratically.

I like your face.

The dark, hollow voice seems to come from nowhere and yet everywhere at the same time. You catch the glimmer of chains, the weak light illuminating the hilt of a broadsword stuck in a muscular, powerful chest.

Take it out… free me…

The unknown voice compels you, and in a fit of panic, you grab the hilt and yank with all of your might. Once the sword is free, it transforms into hot light, and you feel a jolt go through your heart, like lightning striking through a stormy, night sky.

The sword disappears and a terrifying roar fills the chamber, rocking the walls and throwing you off your feet. You barely have time to stand when a sudden force sweeps you to the ground, and you’re left reeling.

Staring up into a pair of crimson, insidious eyes, your heart sinks down into your stomach like a stone capsizing into the middle of a murky lake. Before you, the abyss stares back.

“You… you…”

The realization that you’ve been fooled renders you faint, and your breathing stutters, heart pounding almost painfully in your chest.

You’ve done the unthinkable: you have released the Fiend of the Abyss, and now…

Now, you are his prey.

Fear claws at your throat as the hulking figure takes a massive step towards you, dark red energy rolling like mist behind him, trickling from his right eye.

You’re shaking, vision going blurry. The Fiend opens his mouth, revealing rows of what looks like sharp teeth.

Terror engulfs you, sticky and thick, stiffening your joints and with a sharp inhale, you crumple to the ground, the world and your impending death fading out into black.

—

The scent of fresh blood is in the air.

He sits silently on his throne of gold and lies, scaly ears flickering for the first signs of the sacrifice approaching. His leathery wings quiver in anticipation, the tip of his draconian tail twitching as he sniffs the air, the unmistakable tang of liquid rust filling his nose. The Fiend stretches and his nostrils flare, the sinews of his back and legs quivering. It’s been centuries since he’s last had a chance to extend his limbs. After all, chains and a sword lodged in your chest hardly provide mercy for much motion.

The scent grows closer, and he can hear the rattling breaths this poor creature takes. He’s been watching her for hours now, waiting for her to wake. He could attack and devour her soul in that moment, but where would the fun be?

Besides, her soul is as stale as day-old bread. Nothing of a sort which would entice him.

The dragon waits for one beat—two—and he languidly steps off his throne. His back to the weak, sniffling creature, his instincts suddenly flare and he swiftly darts to the right when a mass of flesh lunges right at him. He parries the weak grip on a blade, his tail whipping out to grab this human by the ankles, containing the ambush.

“Please!”

Her voice rings past the rocky walls, bouncing off the mountains of gold and precious jewels.

His anger flares, but not at her. He takes in the shallow cuts on her cheeks, the welts on her arms. She’s clad in a thin leather garment, her knuckles pronounced and face gaunt.

“Who are you?” His voice is a deep rumble, one that could destroy mountains in a single roar. Her eyes are wide, the whites of them shining in the dim half-light. When she comes to the understanding that he speaks, they roll back into her skull; her body going limp in his arms.

“Wh—!”

A grunt. She bleats like an animal scared to death.

The dragon manages to catch her before she falls.

That night, the girl marked for a fate worse than death dreams about the dragon for the first time, arrow tips exploding from her flesh and a sword piercing her chest searing through her subconsciousness with pure agony.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You wrinkle your nose, turning your face away from the persistent drop of water falling right on your cheek. Shifting, your eyes fly wide open when your body meets the open air and you scream, falling to the floor in a mess of limbs. Ridges of unidentifiable hard edges jab into your body, and you groan, forcing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

There, right in the heart of the cave, a pair of blood red eyes appraise you.

Your scream dies in the back of your throat when a flurry of wings slice through the stagnant air of the cave, a bulky, huge being rushing towards you and knocking you off your feet. A mass of flesh and scales envelopes you in his warmth, glints of gold flying in the air and falling like clinking rain where your bodies meet on the dirt-packed floor.

His eyes, red as blood, glisten like rubies when he scans them over your face. He parts his mouth, and the sharp edge of his canine tooth sends a shiver down your spine. The great Fiend, feared by all in Philos, the one prophesied to bring the destruction of universes from the moment he was born… is staring at you in disdain.

“I suppose those oafs did not anticipate their idiotic sacrifice would free the Fiend of Philos.”

You are barely spared a chance to be indignant, not when his tail sweeps you up by the waist, dragging you in mid-air where you scream and flail.

He chuckles, a low, almost human-like sound. His wings reverberate, the leathery tips of them quivering from the slight breeze his tail whips up.

“I see fear has gripped your tongue, little one. Do not mistaken me—I despise the taste of human flesh. But, your soul…” His tongue darts out to lick at your jaw, tasting sweat and dirt. “... is what I am more interested in.”

You shake, struggling to find something—anything—to say.

“Release me,” you stammer, and he scoffs, eyes dancing with mirth. His spiralled horns are huge on his head. Despite the sharpness of his features and the redness of those eyes, there’s a glint of mirth behind those irises, one you would never expect to find.

Many told you before sacrificing you into the pit: The Fiend is not merciful.

He will rip you apart limb from limb.

Those who visit his lair will never return.

You are cursed—born a blight. You shall be wed to the Fiend on the month of the blood red eclipse and you will be thankful, child.

Their sneers tautening over teeth that look like daggers, their jeers which grate your ears like nails on a metal platform. The bite of pain in your arm as a needle slides past skin, muscle, fat and flesh—depositing liquid fatigue straight into your bloodstream. As your world went black, you woke up to more darkness, finding yourself amidst bones and rubble, right at the lip of Tarus.

There was nothing else you could do but plant one foot right in front of the other—walking straight to your imminent death.

The dragon growls, low and dangerous, as he cocks his head to one side.

“Who are you? And why are you in my prison?”

He waits. You struggle to move your leaden tongue.

“My name is… Y/N. I am… was… sent here as a sacrifice… a bride…”

The Fiend pauses, his eyes raking over your face. When he sees you are completely serious, he tosses his head back, a vile laugh reverberating across the walls.

“Is that so?” He continues to chortle. “My… what delusions you humans hold.” Without warning, he sends you flying across the room with a flick of his tail, your back hitting the hard rock. You choke on a wail of pain, your teeth cutting into your tongue. Blood fills your mouth and spit out a thick, red wad onto the rocky floor.

He is barely sorry, rising to his full height, teeth bared and chest heaving with the exertion it takes to not snap your neck and end your pathetic life.

Every step he takes rocks the ground, the power and danger he holds dripping from his half-naked body, the defined muscles coiling in tension. Ready to snap.

You think—this is it. This is what your pathetic life has amounted to. Perhaps dying would be swift. Maybe you will see your parents again; feel the warmth of their embrace, one you’ve been without for far too long, living this half-life of pain and fear. It would be nice to feel love and belonging again; you’ve gone so long without it.

If he was expecting his prey to scream and fight, he would be sorely wrong.

You close your eyes, and tilt your head up, exposing your bare neck for him to do as he pleases.

Waiting on a merciful death to befall you.

The dragon stops right in his tracks.

Curiously, he assesses you. Though the scent of fear is in the air, the look on your face is nothing short of resignation.

A far cry from any living being with a defense mechanism.

The sight of you is almost pathetic, tugging at his heartstrings: your eyes twitching, breathing jagged. He gets close enough to scent your pheromones in the air, and he recoils in disgust.

She stinks, he thinks, narrowing his blood-red eyes. Is this really the best sacrifice they could offer him? Surely they know that even locked away for an eternity, a dragon still has standards.

The closer he gets to you, the more he sees how young and afraid you are. From your trembling hands to your rapidly rising and falling chest, there is not a bone in your body that wishes to survive.

How terribly dull, he thinks. And also how incredibly sad.

What beatings did you endure to drive you to this state? What words did they spit at you to break your soul? He takes in the color of your hair, your eyes. How different and perturbing you are to other humans. A sign of the damned.

Poor, pathetic little creature… he shakes his head. The myths were wrong. He doesn’t have the stomach for human blood—never did—and if you weren’t meant as fodder for food, surely those bastards above thought you would be the perfect mate for him.

The damned and the broken.

A love story as old as time.

He snorts inwardly and gets onto one knee, gently running the edge of his talon down your cheek, using the sharp edge to tilt your face upward.

“Look at me, little one,” he rumbles.

You immediately comply, eyes flying wide open. The dragon takes a moment to gaze at you, drinking you in. He sees the effects of malnourishment hanging from the exhaustion in your eyes—knows you haven’t eaten for days, surviving purely on adrenaline and fear.

His tail snakes closer, grazing the small of your back. It would be so easy to kill you—a bit more pressure of his tail piercing past your flesh, and the scaly, sharp tip could rip your heart from the inside out.

He takes in your shallow breathing, how your wide eyes never leave him. Even confronted by death, you still face it head-on.

What a brave, little fool.

He opens his mouth, about to offer you something to eat or drink, when your hands move to your thigh strap, a flurry of motion he almost doesn’t catch until the blade is right at his throat. The Fiend grits his teeth, and with a swift flick of his tail, knocks the pathetic knife from your hand.

Swiftly, he grabs your wrists, rolling you to the ground and pinning them over your head, breathing hard in your face.

“You really do know how to put on a good show, little one,” he growls. “Did you think that blade would stand a chance against me?”

“I—”

He silences you with another low, warning growl. “You have committed the most foul move… hmm.” Pretending to ponder, he runs the sharp tip of his talon over your chin, watching your eyes widen with fear as a drop of blood trickles down your neck. “What can I do with an errant human? Let me see…”

“Please,” you’re shaking, tears in your eyes.

The dragon fights back the urge to roll his eyes. A part of him wants to see how long it would take to break you down and get you begging for your life, but the other part of him simply finds your pleas to be a grating distraction in the silence of his lair.

He lets you go and you gasp shakily.

“Thank you—”

“Spare me any pleasantries.”

His powerful tail pushes you far from him, though he noticeably doesn’t throw you against walls anymore.

“Keep your distance from me. Do not step in front of me and for the love of all things holy in Philos—” he glances at your torn up wedding garb, noting the scratches on your bare thighs and how matted the skimpy leather is. “Take a bath. You reek.”

Parting words which leave you gaping in indignation. He spreads his wings and takes off to the highest alcove of the cave, where you have no doubt of his eyes following your every move.

Quietly, you stand and retreat into the coldest part of the cave, hugging your knees to your chest.

This is all an unholy nightmare. Nothing about this—about him—is real… this shall all pass… you try to soothe yourself, taking in steadying breaths.

This, too, shall pass.

Except, this nightmare is not one you can ever wake from.

When you open your eyes to the bleak morning rays bouncing off the cave walls, your heart drops right to your stomach. Scrambling to sit up, you glance around, trying to find a sign of the dragon who had nearly taken your life yesterday. But, you only notice mountains of gold as far as the eye can see. A lair full of treasures rich from kingdoms far beyond your reach. You marvel at goblets with inscriptions in languages you have never seen before, run your fingers over delicate edges of gold coins, and pick one ruby up to the light, watching the morning rays bounce off the rich red facets.

From above, you hear a rustling, and the edge of his dragon’s tail dangles from an alcove. The strange beast who resides here appears to be fast asleep. Since you cannot leave this pit without alerting the rest of the villagers of your escape, the only thing you can do is fend for yourself. You arm your body with swords that boast jewel-encrusted hilts, take a ruby blade in your hand and tighten a thick silk cloak around your neck.

You were going to escape from this hellhole one way or another.

You would never give up your life this easily.

Plotting your next move meticulously, you slice through the silk rope and glance up at the opening of the mountain, calculating that it must be around a few feet high. While you didn’t have wings like a dragon, you had a mortal’s will to live.

Days passed with you stringing the cut ends of the cloak together, and when that wasn’t enough, you tore down the dragon’s gold curtains, attaching the shorn slivers to make a single, long rope.

Through it all, the dragon keeps his eyes firmly on you, a reminder of how you used to watch a tiny kitten trying to clear a 10 foot wall back in the Sanctuary. The young cat never surrendered, never backed down, and you remember watching as it tumbled back to the ground again and again, always springing back to its feet for another round.

Bruises and scrapes litter your knees and palms with every failed attempt. But, you persist.

Once you manage to scale the first few feet, the act of putting one foot in front of the other gets easier. You’re weak and hungry, but the hollow ache is no match for the fire in your soul needing to be set free. You will take the riches you acquired from this dragon’s lair and run away from this cursed land as far as your feet can take you—the Ivory City will be a memory left behind in your shadows.

But, what you never notice is how the dragon has moved from studying you to shadowing you. The lair is vast, full of gold, and yet, he is bored out of his wits. You barely sense his restlessness, and only when you manage to breach the top circle of the rocky cliff face, do you feel a brush of air whipping past your entire body, your hair flying right into your face.

The surge of wind propels you up the last few feet of the rocky lip and you tumble onto the ground, coughing up dust. Brushing gravel and pebbles from your palms and knees, you shakily stand on your own feet.

Before you, Tarus City stretches out like an ebony beast. Revelry and smoke rises to the sky, dim, greasy lights sparing the backdrop some semblance of humanity within this realm of evil and sin.

Yet, through the film of darkness and despair, the city feels alive under the soles of your feet.

A soft flap of wings stir the air, and you turn to find the dragon staring at you, his gem ruby eyes twinkling in the darkness.

“You made it,” his voice is a low rumble, and he shakes his head with a small laugh. “You humans and your paltry stubbornness.” Despite his harsh words, his eyes soften with something akin to respect.

You’re cautious, but civil, glancing at the sprawling city before you.

“Did you expect me to stay put here? Where I don’t belong?”

There’s a tug deep inside of you, starting from your chest to your throat, like an invisible hand is inside your skin, roaming under your nerves, trying to extract something vital from your body. This strange force compels you to stumble closer to him, and your mind flashes in bursts of white light.

Devour him… End him…

The voice grows loud in your ears, and you feel the inexplicable urge to sink something into his chest. It flows hotly in you, a sword made of light that yearns to slay the dragon before you. Red mists flood your vision and your chest feels heavy, like someone is standing on your airways. You stumble to your knees, and the dragon moves closer, his pulsing right red eye nearly swallowing you whole—an eclipse of hatred tainting your soul.

End him! Kill him!

The voices shriek like souls of the dead in your head, and you don’t think, grabbing the pummel of the knife strapped to your thigh and aiming it right for his eye.

His eye… the source of all your misery…

And you want it.

But, his reflexes are faster, silver hair almost black under the moonless night as he grabs your wrist and pushes you down to the rocky ground, the jagged edges cutting into your skin.

The dragon rumbles a low, eerie laugh that chills you to the core, yet your blood sings hotter for revenge.

“Ah. I see. So, your soul does want something. I knew you had an edge to you. I was waiting to see it… you have yet to become a disappointment.”

You struggle against his grip, gnashing your teeth. He simply stares at you like you’re a feisty kitten, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips. As quickly as the murderous need appears, it dissipates, and you’re left reeling, blinking back the red hot urge to devour him.

“Let me go,” you stutter.

He scoffs in disdain, but releases his grip on you. Scrutinizing you like how a predator would size up his prey, the dragon stalks closer, bearing down upon you with his indomitable presence.

He corners you against the rocky cliff face, and this close, you can smell his breath—strong and heady like vengeful liquor fanning across your face.

“What is it that you want the most?” He rumbles and you stumble back, scraping the back of your foot against the rocks. He follows, the sight of his formidable broad shoulders striking a primal fear in your heart.

“What do you think I need?”

You bare your teeth, yet he knows you dare not attack him. He sees it in the faltering resolve, the scent of your fear in the air. You are nothing but a weakling waiting to be crushed under his heel, your blood ready to coat his teeth.

But, there is no use in ending your life now. Dragons are renowned for playing with their prey before they devour them, and a docile meal is not one delicious tasting enough to enjoy. He wants to see you struggle and squirm—only then will the conquest be far sweeter.

“I want to make you a deal,” you speak, and your voice trembles; the effort it takes for you to remain calm is overwhelming.

The dragon pauses in his approach, and a glint of curiosity takes over his countenance.

“Oh?” He sounds almost gleeful, those ruby eyes reflecting the erratic, dancing lights of Tarus City. “Well. About time. Speak. What is it you can offer me?”

Your years of listening to hearsays and myths about the dreaded Fiend sealed off in the Abyss lends you knowledge to what it is a dragon truly desires: the sweetness of greed—the desire to devour a gluttonous soul.

It is a risk to tell him what you want. But, since you are already a woman marked for dead, there is nothing else you have to lose.

“I want your help… to make me greedier.”

The Fiend pauses, and you can see the look of curiosity flashing across his face. Closer now, you notice how elegant his features are, yet they carry a sharp coldness which betrays the disdain he feels for anyone beneath him—you included.

He rubs his chin with his flesh-shredding claws. The keenness in his gaze matches the sharp edges of his teeth which suddenly flash white in the darkness, weak moonlight reflecting off an unsettling grin.

“Greedier, hmm?”

Circling around you, the Fiend flickers his gaze up and down your shaking figure. To him, you must look like the picture of patheticness, still in your old garbs and gaunt from the lack of nutrition. One single flick of his tail, and your life will end right where you stand.

Yet… he considers and weighs your proposal. “And what do I get in return?”

Gulping, you hope dragons can’t scent a lie, and you struggle to make up one on the spot. “I can bring you more riches! I can help you get more revenge on the people who wronged you. I can amass you wealth and accolades like you’ve never seen before.”

The Fiend raises a brow. “Those are lofty promises, human. And what exactly would you want from me in return?” He is far more astute than you give him credit for.

You don’t flinch when you mutter: “Revenge.”

Now, you’ve got him intrigued. Cocking his head to one side, the handsome Fiend stares at you without saying a word. He’s seen your thoughts, felt your despair. The one thing you truly desire is the annihilation of those who brought death upon your village. The blood curdling screams of your people, the fires that ravaged the wild sky—you thirst for the deaths of those who unjustly stole your family and childhood from you.

The look in his blood red eyes is indifferent, though the slight upturn of his lips indicate his interest.

“I see.” His wings stretch out, almost menacingly, though your quick eyes notice how they tremble… almost like he’s just learned to close them.

But, the Fiend doesn’t give you time to wallow in your thoughts. He steps forward, tall and imposing. Taking your chin in his clawed hand, he tilts your face up, forcing you to look at him. In a flash, the red gleam of his eye dominates your vision. “There is more. Do not lie. I know you want my eye. You feel it, too, don’t you? This strange, magnetic pull.”

Without thinking it through, and you nod, your attention on his sudden proximity.

You wait for him to explain, but he never does. His touch leaves a trail of heat on your skin, and it intensifies when he presses his lips to your neck, sharp teeth leaving behind a searing bite.

“Ow—!”

“This is a mark which bonds us, Y/N.” It’s the first time he’s ever said your name. You stare at him, breathing coming out jagged. The bite burns, almost as if it’s responding to the heat of his desires. “Before it fades, I will give you three attempts to take my eye. If you do not succeed… your soul is mine to devour.”

You put on a brave front, despite how fast your heart is hammering in your chest. A part of you thinks he can hear the thundering fear.

“Deal. And you, dragon, will help me with my revenge.”

He shrugs and takes to the sky, leaving you alone on this rocky crag where the wind is picking up.

“Deal.”

The dragon and you take to your revenge like straw to flame.

He enables you to soar high in the skies, plundering and stealing from corrupt nobles. He burns the Sanctuary down with you, relishing in the cries of these so-called ordained Oracles from a higher order who abuse their position and power to ruin the lives of those lower than them.

The dragon and you make a formidable duo. The infamy of your reputation spreads across the lands, like the shadows his wings cast over Philos, marking the end of days.

His bride and partner. Your very name brings disdain and fear across the faces of the men who had once damned you to this fate. Unbeknownst to you, the Sacred Judicator will not be overthrown. He is a man of pride and greed; a man such as that will never stand for a simple, cursed human girl to be his downfall.

They plot and plan, finding pitfalls to ensnare you away from the dragon.

While they scheme, the dragon and you live in the clouds, above Tarus City. With nowhere to go, your hometown long destroyed, and half of Philos demanding for your blood, there is nothing much you can do but to learn more about your companion.

Drenched in the shadows of dusk, you sit next to the dragon, marking your next plunder on a starmap. He gazes over your shoulder, and his proximity reminds you of the mark seared into the skin of your throat. Sometimes you feel it pulsing, reminding you of the deal you made. His breath brushes your shoulder, and you blurt out the first thing in your mind.

“Do you have a name?”

The air between you two turns chilly.

“Why would it matter?” He asks coldly and you laugh.

“Well… I can’t keep calling you Dragon all the time, can I?” Mirth swims in your eyes, and the red vortex of his right eye flares, as if preparing to swallow you whole. But, you’re not afraid of the abyss. He can’t kill you because he still needs to devour your soul—and a dead human has no soul. “Besides, if we are in battle, the second I say Dragon, they would know who I am referring to.”

The Fiend pauses, contemplates. After a moment, he rumbles what sounds like “Stay-rus” under his breath.

“Stay-rus?” You tilt your head to one side. “Are you asking me to stay clear? Or, is that really your name?”

A flicker of a smile lights up the corners of his mouth at your impudence.

“It is an ancient Philosan name.”

“Ah.” You glance at him, and with no fear, touch his horns. He bristles, but does not reject your affection. “What if I call you something that sounds similar? Is Sylus alright with you?”

The dragon shrugs. “Call me whatever you want. But, do not expect me to respond.”

He stands and his wings rustle the air.

“Where are you going, Sylus?”

Despite his prickly warning at this new given name, he responds: “To rest.”

But, you still want to speak to him, to get to know him.

“Please,” your voice takes on a softer quality. “Sit with me for a bit.” In this light of the flame, he looks younger. More human. You have never seen a dragon with this much emotion in his eyes.

Eventually, he sighs and sits back down next to you, casting his gaze far and wide to the city below.

“Humans are strange creatures, are they not?” Sylus mumbles, taking a bite of the blood orange. You pick up a pomegranate and pluck a seed, chewing on it thoughtfully.

The Fiend rarely gets into an introspective mood, his thoughts and feelings hidden behind his indifferent stare. So, when he begins to ramble, you hear him.

“Why do you say that?”

A storm is brewing over Tarus City and the moon is hidden tonight. The secrecy and solemness of the entire surroundings mirror the distant look in his eyes.

“Because through all the destruction and fear, they still have one thing in them unwilling to bend or break.”

Hope, you think.

“Stubbornness,” he says, and tosses the peel to the ground where it lands with a dull thud.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Not every human is terrible the same way not every dragon is evil. Duality exists and kindness can be seen in this world.”

He looks at you like you’re a monster who has sprouted two heads. “They burnt your home to the ground. They took you away from your family and yet, you harbor no ill-intent for them.”

Your expression darkens, and in the sliver of moonlight, the dragon catches the same untamed fury reflected in his gaze.

“Regardless of what they have done, innocents still roam Ivory City. To destroy all of them—”

“You are weak,” he spits out. Something in you snaps, and you stand, shaking from head to toe.

Instead of feeling intimidated, Sylus laughs, the sound coming out like a deep rumble, and shakes his head. “Sit back down. I am merely joking.”

Despite the flare of anger, you tame it, turning your indignant gaze to the embers of the fire smoldering before you.

“Why do you say such hurtful things to me? Am I not your partner through everything?”

If you expected him to soften from your show of vulnerability, you are mistaken. The dragon narrows his eyes.

“Do you think you can weaken me with your human love? Whatever bonding or mating attempts you humans partake in will not work on me, cursed one,” he rumbles, the tip of his tail flicking the top of my head. “If you truly want my love and attention, be stronger.”

His words rub you the wrong way, especially when you’ve proven time and time again of your heart’s discontent. The greed oozes out of you, demanding for more, something which you would’ve never dared tried as a young orphan under the Sanctuary’s care.

“Do not assume I am weak, Sylus,” you leap back to your feet again, glaring at him, and the effect strikes as much fear in his heart as a little kitten hissing at a python. You were no match for him, and the both of you knew that. However, he commends your bravery, even if it verges into the territory of stupidity. “I am plenty strong. You just have no idea how strong I can be.”

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “If you think puffing out your chest and making threats will deter me, you are sorely mistaken, kitten—”

His words die in the back of his throat when you lunge right at him, dagger straight to his eye. He parries, and his tail grabs your waist, throwing you into a wall. You sneer, and the sight of your bared teeth reminds him of a young dragon who’s horns have just grown—reckless and itching for a fight.

With every kill and steal, Sylus will always ask you the same question: What else do you desire?

Now wrapped in the tenderness of an approaching new night and an empty moon, he senses a new, burning desire simmering between you two. A dance as old as time.

Primal instincts in him awaken when you stab your dagger into his tail, earning a hiss. His injury makes it hard for him to hold you up and he relents, dropping you to the ground where you roll away and parry, toppling over him. Red-black mists swirl around you, the light in your soul burning to devour the darkness in his red eyes. From the corner of your eye, you notice the stab wound you made in his tail healing over.

However, your instinct to kill, kill, kill doesn’t abate, and his need to drive his teeth into your soul threatens to overcome him.

End him… Kill him…

The words echo in your head, and you try hard to fight them off.

No… I can’t… I can’t… he is… he is my…

The shackles binding you to logic restraints the deathly need, and you drop the knife in your hand. Sylus laughs throatily, and without a second thought, he leans in to kiss you.

Soon, the desire to kill fades, and another pressing need emerges, this one intending to devour, but not in the way you expect.

A stirring heat fills your belly, drawing you ever closer to his light. You fall right into the vortex of his parted mouth, tasting the sweet breath of his tongue dancing with yours. Sylus shifts under you, growling when you accidentally nip on his bottom lip.

“Careful, little one,” he groans, and the sound travels straight to your core.

“Mhm,” you moan, tasting his lips once more. He reminds you of liquor and elderberries, sweet and heady.

Every nerve in your body is on fire, and you can’t help but to tilt your hips, pressing them closer to his, feeling the tight seam of his leather pants rub against your naked core. The friction leaves you gasping. Sylus lets out a low, guttural sound at the sudden spark of heat, his ruby red eyes darkening.

“Little one… you have no idea what that feels like…”

You gasp when his tail wraps around your waist gently, possessively.

You have never been with a man, much less a dragon before, and the idea of what could potentially come next leaves you reeling.

“Wait…”

Sylus hears the note of hesitation in your tone and halts all his movement. The sharp, stinger-like tip of his tail is gentle when it caresses your cheek.

“I will not hurt you, little one,” he promises. The air trembles with a murmur of vulnerability. You feel his claws slide up your waist, caressing the leathery garment you still wore from the time you dropped right into his lap as a frightened, wide-eyed little thing.

Sylus’s touches are feathered with curiosity, and those eyes hide a world of secrets behind them. Secrets you wish to uncover. You brush a lock of silver hair from his face, and to your pleasant surprise, he leans into your touch.

“Dragons cannot feel love,” he murmurs, almost as if reading your silent desires. Perhaps, he tastes your growing need in the air. “Not in the way humans do.” His kiss falls like a dew drop on your eyelashes.

You struggle to keep your wits to yourself, not wanting to succumb to his charm. “How do they differ?”

He smiles, truly smiles for the first time, as if your question is something a child would ask. “Dragons have mating frenzies. A cycle of sorts. During that time, we are inundated by our constant need to mate and breed…”

You gently caress the side of his face, running your touch down the sharp ridges of where his scales meet his chest, above his heart.

“Can a human and a dragon ever mate?”

The question hangs in the air like an awkward note delivered wrongly in the middle of an orchestra chamber.

You swallow, about to backtrack, when he tightens his grip on you. Pain flashes in his eyes, as if he’s remembering a past you aren’t privy to.

“Yes,” he says softly, the word heavy with a thousand burdens. “They can. And, they have.”

Taking in his almost human countenance, your eyes widen. “You… you’re talking about yourself, are you? About who you are?”

He growls in warning, and you clamp your mouth shut—not wanting to ruin this moment. Sylus is a puzzle you can’t quite figure out. But, even if you don’t have all the pieces, you cherish them whenever they drop onto your lap, doing everything you can to try and create a bigger picture of him.

“I dreamt of a boy once… a long time ago,” you gently run your thumb across his horn, not noticing how he shudders. “He was young and scrawny. With a stumpy dragon tail and cut off horns oozed blood…”

Sylus doesn’t speak, his expression like the dark side of the moon—hiding everything.

You shrug, and lean in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “I never understood that dream. Maybe it’s a premonition.”

“Or, perhaps, a memory.”

You lift your eyes, but he’s already pulling you closer, claiming your lips as his own. You shiver at the heat of his mouth, the all-encompassing need he pours into the kiss. Your mind spins, the room becoming hotter, as the stirring heat between you and the dragon kindles into something deeper.

Needier.

Sylus moves his mouth to the tender juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, worrying his teeth into your delicate flesh. He bites and gnaws like a predator to its prey, the stinging pain morphing into an undeniable need slicking hotly between your thighs.

He groans when you inadvertently shunt your hips, eyes widening at the bulge behind his pants. Sylus gazes right at your lips, bringing them close to his once again, kissing you breathlessly. His tongue slips past to demand entrance to your mouth, and you part your lips, letting him delve right in. Greed infuses his kisses, and he takes and takes, swirling his tongue and tasting you, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Sylus…”

His name on your lips almost makes him feverish with need. Sylus growls and rolls you onto your back, his tail coiling around your waist, snaking up your neck. He stands and tugs you up with ease, his serpentine tail wrapped tightly around you. Your back meets the soft surface of his chaise, and he gently parts your legs, running the tips of his claws over your fleshy inner thighs.

The mark on your neck burns, and this desire is even stronger than the one calling you to kill him. It’s like your souls are fused together—whatever he feels, you do, too. Whatever he wants, you want.

And right now, there is no shadow of doubt that Sylus wants you.

He licks his lips, and the fire in his crimson eyes burns through you. You gasp when he lifts the hem of your leather, wedding dress up over your thighs, exposing your need to the chilly air of his lair.

Sylus groans, deep and gravelly in his chest, at the sight of how wet you already are for him.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He rumbles, and gently trails the back of his index talon down your slit. He gathers the wetness and, keeping eye contact with you, runs his tongue down the sharp curve.

You gasp, cheeks heating up. “Sylus—”

“Kitten,” he growls, kneeling before your spread thighs. The sight of you, all spread out before him, is one that pumps more heat into his bloodstream than any loot ever could.

He smells how excited you are, your arousal like warm honey and vanilla, beckoning him to taste you.

You gasp when his rough tongue licks a strip from your inner thigh to your bare pelvis, leaving a trace of heat behind.

“Oh!” your voice echoes in his chambers. “Oh… Sylus…”

He growls, loving the name you’ve given him on your tongue.

The sight of his claws on your skin should’ve scared you, but all you feel is a deep curious need for more. You tilt your hips up in an invitation, one which the dragon raises his brow to.

But, he gets onto his knees, like you’re a sacred piece of art he has to worship. More than the riches and the gold, Sylus thinks nothing in his lair shines as brightly as you. Your soft skin under his lips, the velvety grip of your folds on his tongue… he may not be familiar with this type of desire, but it is slowly unravelling itself like an old, familiar blanket.

Sylus nuzzles his nose right into the heart of your cunt, and you gasp, sighing his name.

He lets you grip his hair, play with his horns. His tail wraps tightly around your waist, the tip grazing your cheek. To his surprise as he’s pleasuring you, you turn your face and envelope the sharp, tapered curve with your soft, warm mouth, sucking on it lightly.

Bolts of pleasure shoot through his body like lightning. Sylus growls and lifts his head, ruby eyes entranced at the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips tasting the tip of his tail. You lift your lust-drowsy eyes to catch his gaze, and smile.

“You… taste good…” Licking your lips, you’re unaware of the alluring picture you paint.

This human, this mite in the face of a mighty dragon may not be able to slay the foul beast, but she sure knew how to bring him to his knees.

Sylus groans, doubling down his effort to please you.

It’s instinct how he moves his tongue, sampling your flavor. Your breathing hitches, gasps growing heavier, and from the twitch of your hips to the sight of more nectar spilling from between your legs, Sylus can hazard a guess that you might be on the verge of a climax.

A low, gravelly growl spills from his slickened lips, and his claws shred the front of your dress, splitting the skimpy material into half with the ease of tearing through sugar paper.

Your bare chest unfurls like vast plains of flesh, warm to the touch, soft as silk underneath his claws. He sees your milk glands (or, as humans might call them: breasts), luscious and heavy enough to sustain his young. The primal lust roars louder in his veins.

“I want to see them full with milk,” he licks his lips and plays with your pebbled nipples. “Feeding my progenies… you will make a splendid mother, indeed.”

His words don’t scare you—you’ve already given this bond a thought, during dark nights when sleep couldn’t find you. If the dragon wants to mate, you shall welcome his advances. This new desire, hot and insistent within you, sparks like the first flame of love.

“Ahhh…” your dulcet moan grazes his ears like a supple kiss. “Sylus…”

His tail restraints your arms from flailing, though he gives you enough grace to sink your hands in his hair. Sylus’s warm tongue continues to tease your sensitive spots, his nose grazing your clit. Lapping at the warm musk you produce like it’s honey from a fount, the dragon greedily drinks you up.

Timidly, you reciprocate, pressing kisses to the end of his tail. As your pleasure spikes, the need to ground yourself comes in the form of suckling on the narrow tip, your moans lost in mouthfuls of his stinger. He growls, eyes flashing and lifts his head from between your thighs.

“How does one mortal know exactly where to pleasure a dragon?”

You detach your lips from the leathery skin of his pointed tip, breathily replying: “I read an ancient book once… Dragons are symbols of fertility and their tails…” you trail off, as if almost embarrassed to know this fact, “... are sensitive.”

Sylus shivers when your tongue runs across the stinger again, making his tail twitch and flick uncontrollably. He resists the urge to flip you onto your knees and breach your tight heat in this instance, exercising patience. The last thing he wants is to accidentally injure you.

“So, this is what they feed the dragon brides up in that sanctimonious Sanctuary of yours?” He mocks, “Ways on how to pleasure a dragon? How… whorish.”

Your indignation flares and you narrow your eyes. “No,” you splutter. “It was a piece of information I found by accident,” you struggle against the tight coil of his tail around you, “And, do not call me such terms!”

Sylus chortles, amused by your vitriol. “I see. My innocent human bride is not as innocent as I thought.”

He grins and using his thumb, circles the throbbing bud between your legs. “Don’t move. My claws are sharp,” he warns, and gently, blows cool air on the little bundle of nerves already blushing. “Mhm… your body is… supple…” Cool, slightly chapped lips press a reverent kiss to your clit.

You gasp, and struggling to quip back, ask, “And how does a dragon know how to pleasure a human woman?”

His answer throws you off. Sylus grins, revealing rows of perfect, straight white teeth as he replies succinctly:

“Instinct.”

His tongue delves right back into your heat and you scream, thighs twitching. The tapered stinger gently caresses your cheek, and you take it as an invitation to suck on the tip. Wet noises and muffled moans resound around the cave walls.

Sylus’s tail releases you, and he kneels up, fumbling with his pants. You eagerly help him tug them down, not sure what you would find hidden underneath the dark fabric.

But, a very much human cock greets your sight, though larger than the wax appendage in the science labs back at the Sanctuary. You bite your lip, gently stroking it from base to tip.

Sylus hiss, tilting his head back. “Gods,” he whispers blasphemy while in the throes of his pleasure. “Do not stop…”

You hum, warm palms running up and down the slick flesh. His tail wraps around your midsection again, and the light catches on a split at the base of the large, serpentine mass. Curious, you tilt your head to one side.

“Sylus… what is that?”

He sees what you have spotted and laughs hollowly. “Didn’t your naughty books tell you, my bride? That… is a hemipenis.” The tip of his tail slides between your legs, caressing your folds and you gasp, squirming. Before your eyes, twin sacs pop from underneath the scales, and you see two curling branches feeling the air.

“Are those…?”

You trail off and Sylus huffs a hoarse laugh. “Yes. Supposed to go in you. One or the other. I am not picky.”

Gaping, you stop stroking his human cock and pay attention to his dragon one. Roughly the same size as his human appendages, his dragon ones are a fleshy pink, with bulbous sacs hanging at the base.

“So… you have three organs…”

You marvel at the biology of him, not paying attention to the pink dusting on the high points of his cheeks.

“Yes… so to speak.”

Sylus’s voice drops an octave, and you feel his claws gently caressing your bare thighs.

“I have… never made love with a dragon before,” you admit, and he finds it strangely endearing.

Sylus lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “If you ever did, I would not think to even have you in this position.” Grinning, he leans closer, as if to let you in on a secret. “I would have scented another male on you and snapped your neck clean off for daring to intrude in my lair… or, did you not know dragons only mate for life?”

His words leave your head spinning. You gasp, and he grabs your chin, holding it firmly in his clawed hand.

Your wide eyes, your flush cheeks. You look divine, and Sylus aches for a taste.

He leans in, lips pressing to yours. There’s less heat this time, passion simmering to a tender touch—hesitation replaced by a growing intimacy that is undeniable. His hands roam your body, feeling the lush and warm skin of your hips, thighs and stomach.

“You taste like sin incarnate,” the dragon whispers against your lips.

Curiosity simmers in you, needing to be fulfilled and you speak past his lips meeting yours in hurried kisses.

“What—do you mean—mhm… mating for life?” You manage to gasp. Sylus growls, loving how breathy you sound.

Sylus lets out a rumble that sounds almost like a purr, his nose gliding from your jaw to your pulse point, inhaling you.

“The mating frenzy happens once every few years. During such a… ritual… the dragons will choose one to be their mate—to carry their offspring and be their one true partner. Your books do not teach this because to humans, such a notion of love is barbaric and unheard of…”

Naturally, the next question rolls off your tongue. “And… you have chosen me? As your mate?”

The word suddenly holds a heavy connotation, and you swallow.

His tail strokes your chin, and you nuzzle your cheek against it. Infuriating as ever, Sylus never gives you a straight answer. “Perhaps.”

The idea of someone as simple as you being the Fiend’s mate is laughable. And, yet…

You lick your lips, running your gaze over his muscular and broad build. The prominence of his spine and scaly shoulders, the black-tipped serpentine tail with streaks of red scales.

“Tell me more about these… mating frenzies.”

A guttural low growl forms at the depths of his chest, making you shiver.

“Better yet—I can show you.”

In a flash, he’s on top of you, and his tail slithers right to your spread thighs. You feel the heat of his split dragon cock gently grazing your hip, and you hold your breath. “What does this mean? For both of us?”

Sylus’s head is traveling to your sternum, his tongue sticking out to taste your skin. He stops at the swell of your right breast and sighs.

“You ask too many questions.”

Whatever is left of your coherence is lost in the feel of his velvet tongue teasing your straining nipples. He licks at them, bringing the fleshy nubs into the heat of his mouth and rolling them between his teeth. You gasp, completely helpless under his larger build, your arms bound to your sides by the strength of his tail wrapped around your chest.

“Ngh—Sylus!” You cry out and he chuckles, low and smoky, enjoying how your body is squirming from the stimulation.

Sylus’s eyes close when he feels your hand stroking his thigh and tail, the innocent touch sending waves of pleasure through his body. He is completely enthralled by you—this tiny, insignificant human… and you don’t even know the extent of his desire.

Despite his rugged exterior, he nuzzles your cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of your soul ablaze with a new desire.

It’s heady and sublime, like a whiff of manna from a holier source than what’s between his ribcage. His heart palpitates, a staccato rhythm just for you.

Sylus bends his head lower, eyelashes almost tickling your cheek.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, little one?”

You struggle to speak, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s eliciting in your body. “I… want you.”

The confession rolls off your tongue, making his blood sing. Sylus grins, and his body primes with the need to claim you; to stake his seed deep in your body. The sight of his two cocks, each pulsing with pleasure and anticipation, makes your mouth water.

It’s a good thing those barbarians threw you down into his lair in such delectable garments… or, a lack thereof. Your bare body beckons him in like a moth to a flame; he shamelessly drinks in the sight of your splayed thighs hungrily—the fragile swathes of leather barely concealing your form.

Sylus coils his tail closer to his pelvis, and you don’t hesitate to sit on the large, scaly mass. Your heat is maddeningly close to his lengths. The dragon desires stirring to claim you rises like a storm, and his nostrils flare. Sylus grabs your hips, positioning you over his right cock, letting the other one graze your pelvis. He hisses when you willingly take him, the innocent love on your face almost too much for him to bear.

(How can you look at him like this—like he’s something holy and worth loving?)

The great Fiend melts right into your embrace, his head pressed to your shoulder, your bare breasts grazing the scales forming his chestplate.

Sylus growls, going light-headed at the feel of your velvet walls melting around him. He gazes deeply into your eyes, finding not a shred of fear or repulsion in them. Your body molds around him like a well-fitted glove, your edges melting with his, the perfect contrast to his build.

As you lean in closer, he catches a whiff of honeyed wildflowers, and he deeply regrets commenting on your odor before, knowing it was because of the warped perception he had of you.

You press your lips to his jaw, the bond between you thrumming like a live heartbeat.

He leans in to taste your mouth, the tenderness of this moment transcending any pain and bitterness he’s ever endured in his tragic life. Maybe one day he will tell you about the scars, the prejudice, the family he’s lost. But tonight, he wants you to belong to him as much as he already belongs to you.

“Does it hurt?” He checks when you take the last few inches of his beastly cock, your expression betraying a wince of pain.

“No…” you murmur, and he senses the truth in your shiny eyes. “It is simply… I am not accustomed to it.”

Sylus bites down on a groan when you shift your hips, the sensation of him moving deep inside you both foreign and enticing.

“O my bride,” he murmurs, nosing your hair. “You have no idea how delectable you look right now—astride me like this. Completely in my grasp. Completely mine.”

You shiver at the note of possessiveness in his tone. They said dragons horde what they find valuable. In his arms, you don’t feel broken or despised—you shine like the most priceless jewel. Despite his countenance and the infamy behind his reputation, you’re at ease in his arms, rubbing your nose with his.

“The bride of the dragon… his temptress of the night… one could get used to such a name,” you tease. His clawed hands tighten on your hips, and he guides your movements. Nose to nose, chest to chest, the dragon and you breathe as one.

The sensation of him inside you is one you have never felt in your short life. It’s both aching and pleasurable—makes you feel like a harlot and an enchantress all at once. Sylus does not hesitate to breach the last vestige of your innocence, the mark on your neck burning from his claim.

Your ripeness and purity stains his thighs in streaks of red, and he growls low.

“You are… untouched?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Your eyes water and your throat bubbles with a sob, but not from pain. You want nothing more than to make this moment of agonizing ecstasy last forever.

Sylus drops his head back to your shoulder, lips seeking your neck blindly. The mark he leaves calls upon his name, and his lips seek it effortlessly, biting and licking—reopening the wound only to seal it back with his healing capabilities.

It’s delirium and distress all in one. Your body feels like a flame in the open air, dancing violently to the blows of his desires. You move above him, bracing your smaller hands on his shoulders, leveraging on his muscular build to chase your high.

Sylus scents your soul in the air—hot liquor topped with boiling salt—simmering with the irresistible pull of your desires. The look in your eyes is wanton and needy. He can almost taste your desperation in the back of your throat.

“My bride,” he growls, gripping your hips to make you move faster. “My beloved, beautiful, greedy bride.”

His low snarl makes your insides squeeze, the need for him burning brighter and hotter.

“Sylus—” you choke.

That’s it, my sweetness… give yourself to me.

A feral, almost inhuman timber laces his voice, compelling you to surrender to the dark desires stirring beneath your skin.

You crave for Sylus—need him like you need air.

The wet sound of skin meeting skin, his husky snarls and whispered praises bring you closer to the edge. Sylus moves under you, a dark wave with piercing ruby eyes following your every move. He fixates on your face, unable to look away.

Those clawed hands, born to shred through flesh, tenderly cradle the plush of your hips. His mouth, a delicate curve, finds refuge in the valleys of your breasts, nipping and sucking on them like a sugar addict sampling the finest sweets in all the land. His ardent affection sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, your glassy eyes drowning in his intense, crimson gaze. The fire flickers and catches on the sheen of his dragon hide, inky smooth under the softness of your touch.

Flesh and scales. Dragon and wife. Both blend into one as the night wears on.

Sylus feels your walls trembling, sucking him deeper. He nuzzles the mark on your neck, grazing his teeth on your pulse point.

“Let go for me,” he speaks in that same raspy, deep voice. Compelling you to listen to him. “Let go and release your worries… I am here to catch you, beloved.”

Beloved… beloved…

You are the dragon’s beloved.

Your heart soars above the clouds, far from your body. The waves of ecstasy crash around you, dragging you under. Right in the heart of the mountain, your scream of his name echoes down the valleys and boughs, the pleasure searing through your veins.

In response, Sylus roars, a great bellowing sound. He protects your fragile, human hearing with a palm pressed right to your ear, your cheek and ear against his chest; his claim resounds like a boom of thunder, shaking the trees.

You’re dizzy, blood rushing to your ears. Sylus holds you in his embrace, pressing your body to his broad chest, close enough it feels like you could fuse your skin with his.

Your breaths mingle, heady liquor dripping into each other’s mouths, and you drink deeply from his kiss.

Sylus lays you down on the chaise, curling up next to you. Like a dragon guarding his horde of treasure, he keeps you close, tail curled under your head. Occasionally, he would caress your belly, feeling the generous swell of his release lodged right in your womb. His beastly cock remains warm in you, the hard ridges drawing sparks of pleasure chasing up your spine with every movement.

His large wing unfurls, draping over you. With his head on your chest, your arms around him, and his dragon cock softening inside you, Sylus holds you tightly. Possessively. The tip of his tail nuzzles your chin, his human cheek rubbing against your head.

Wrapped snugly in his embrace on all fronts, you fall into the deepest sleep of your life.

The dragon and you grow closer day by day.

As your need for revenge abates, your greed is satisfied in a different way—through a more carnal and intimate fulfillment. For a creature who loves to hoard, Sylus is generous with his pleasure, sharing the riches of his love and knowledge.

He flies you around Tarus City in his arms, his wings cutting through the valleys and casting a terrifying yet breathtaking shadow over the mostly barren rockspace. But, the city is not without its charms.

Laying in a field of daturas, the sun shines warmly on your skin.

With a lack of human clothes nearby, you had to get creative and stitch some leather hide together with scraps of chiffon he plundered from a clothing merchant in Ivory City. The result is a dress which shows off the strength and agility of your body, light enough for your quick movements, yet warm to withstand the cool Tarus City nights.

You munch on a blood orange while Sylus plays with a pearl necklace, lopping it around the tip of his tail, unwinding it only to gently place it on your lap. You glance at him, finding a soft smile lifting the perfect curves of his lips.

“Put it on,’ he rumbles, and you raise a brow.

“Why?”

Sylus chuckles, shaking his head, finding your stubbornness endearing. You find you quite like the sound of his laughter. The warm sun bounces off his hair, turning it almost a blinding white. The hue of his locks matches with the pearly beads, its sheen catching your eye. Without a second thought, you put the necklace on.

Turning to him, you grin. “Is this to your liking?”

But, his eyes darken, the sudden look of lust flashing in his crimson eyes catching you off guard.

Before you can open your mouth to speak, he grabs you by the waist, pinning you down to the grassy carpet. The cloying scent of crushed daturas fill your nose, making your head spin. You cradle his face in your hands, admiring the jut of his sharp features.

Sylus nuzzles into your touch, like a needy cat. He growls when you touch his horns.

“You know what caressing them does to me.”

You pretend to look innocent. “Oh? I suppose I don’t. Care to remind me again?”

Your dragon lover grins, baring his teeth. Sylus never smiles unless he catches the scent of treasure. Trapped underneath his bigger build, you glance at his right eye, and the mark on your neck starts to tingle again. Every time you think you have an upper hand on the situation, the bond you share with him brings a crushing sense of helplessness and desire—making you repeat the pattern of giving into him all over again.

His lips press to yours and you inhale the sweet taste of blood oranges on his touch. He nibbles on your lower lip, and you shiver.

“O bride,” he whispers, dragging the tips of his talons up your side. “You smell… delectable.”

His mouth seeks refuge in the crook of your neck, biting, nipping and sucking. The sharp sting of his teeth and tongue turn into ripples of pleasure coursing through your bloodstream, warming you from the core.

You thread your fingers through his silver hair and he hums in approval.

Sylus moves his mouth from your neck to your pulse point, going over the marks he left the night before. The frenzy of his claiming sears through your memories, and you shudder again, powerless against the desires that consume you.

He nips and licks along your jaw, across your collarbones. The bite of his teeth drives you closer to ecstasy, and you tilt your head back, whimpering.

“Sylus…”

He smiles against your skin. “I love the sounds you make… these sweet, little eager mewls,” he rasps in a dark, low tone, his body pressing down on you. You gasp as he leans in, lips a breath from your ear. “It makes me want to devour you.”

A cacophony of lust and longing swirls inside you. The mark on your neck grows hotter. You crane your neck closer to him, noses almost touching and like a plea for succor, you murmur, “Then, devour me.”

The glint in his eye grows darker and he leans in closer. “You have no idea what you are asking for, little one.”

There’s an edge of warning in his tone, one you choose not to hear.

“All I want is you… and I must have you, my dragon.”

A shiver runs up his spine, the sound of your possessive words both delighting and frustrating him.

He cages you to the ground with his arms, looming over you like a dark shadow. The muscles in his body tenses, coiled tight like a spring about to break.

You pry your wrists from his grasp and he gives your freedom back with no hesitation. Your hands roam the broad expanse of his back and chest, feeling the warmth of his human skin mingling with the cool hide of his dragon scales. You concentrate on the spikes erupting from his shoulders, running your hands down his pronounced spine, where you gently press a hand to the base of his tailbone.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, and the sunlight speckles his shadows over your face. You pluck a flower and gently tuck it under a ridge of scales closest to his heart. “Has anyone ever told you that, Sylus?” The red bloom contrasts vividly with his dark scales, and the look on his face reminds you of a setting sun—tender and warm.

His eyes soften, the beastly need shadowing them tempered by a touch of adoration.

He takes your hand in his clawed grip and gingerly runs a talon over your knuckles, careful not to break skin.

“No one has ever said that to me before,” his voice is rough, laced with an unfathomable emotion. Sadness? Grief? Anger?

You couldn't decipher it. But, the unconditional affection you feel for him does not waver.

Sylus slots his larger build in between your thighs, bearing down on you. Even with his proximity, you don’t feel afraid, gazing into his jewel-tone eyes, admiring how they shine like rubies in the gentle sun.

“Sylus… have you ever been in love before?”

He turns his head to press kisses onto your fingertips. Slowly, he shakes his head.

“Dragons do not feel love the same way humans do.”

Curious, you card your fingers through his hair. “And how do they feel love?”

The ruby embedded in his chest pulses almost as if it’s alive. You gently run your fingers over the sharp edges of the jewel, surprised to find it warm There’s something about it that echoes him—rough and unyielding on the surface, yet concealing a depth of hidden truth beneath its intricate facets.

Sylus grasps your wandering hand in his, bringing it to his lips. His lips touch the thrumming pulse of your wrist with a dearest reverence.

“Imagine you’re at a feast and the host has arranged a full table filled with only your favorite food,” he explains, rubbing the tip of his nose into your palm. “There’s a centrepiece and you wish to have it, but the host tells you it’s for decoration only. Yet, you cannot remove your eyes from it. You scheme and pine, wondering how to grab it when the bastard’s back is turned. Then, frustrated and no longer able to wait, you end the host where he stands for daring to keep such a treasure from you.” His voice grows softer, fringed with despair. “You pick up the centrepiece and sink your teeth into it. It’s made out of plastic and the feast ends because of you. The table is toppled over and you haven’t even touched your meal yet. This is what it feels like to love as a dragon.”

Your eyes soften, sensing his anguish. “I see.” Instead of being disgusted by his greed, you feel for his plight—to be cursed to love and long for something or someone that will never satiate the true ache in your soul. “But, I suppose that’s where the magic lies, right? In the meal and not true desires? What’s in front of you instead?”

Gently, you caress his horns again, marveling at how strong and perfectly curved they are.

Sylus bends his head closer, letting you touch them. “Only you humans think such a paltry keep is worth pursuing.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Love is not about what you can take but what you give back.”

As you stroke the indentations at the base of his horns where he’s taken a knife to it one too many times in the past, Sylus flinches from your touch. You still, and he bristles, growling under his breath as he urges you to continue caressing him by nudging his horns against your palm.

You grin. “Hmm… you know what you remind me of?” Not waiting for him to reply, you continue, “A huge kitten. An angry, horn-fiended kitten.”

Sylus scowls, baring his teeth slightly, but when you scratch the base of his horns, tickling his scalp, he fights back a moan.

“Mhm… feels good,” he rumbles, and you giggle, happy to have found his spot. You scratch at it for a few moments, enjoying the warm press of his body on yours. His wings quiver in the light breeze, and the day shines on, the field of daturas all forgotten for the softness in his eyes.

When night comes, cool and blanketing the world in peaceful darkness, you hum, stoking the fire in the centre of his lair. Sylus hears the cadence of your breath, the rhythm, and he wanders over to you, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

“What is that… sound?”

“Oh. It is an old lullaby… one my mother used to sing to me.”

His clawed hand grazes your belly, gently trailing up to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his broad body cocooning around you.

“Can you sing it to me again?”

In the deep vastness of Tarus City, a lone, beautiful voice reverbs, her song lifting from the peaks of the dragon’s lair, up into the cloudless night. The dragon listens to her, besotted, his ruby eyes never lifting from her face.

She finishes the song, and he lifts his head from the comfort of your lap. “That was beautiful.”

Surrounded by all the riches of the world, the dragon wants to reward you.

“Since you so kindly gifted me something I do not have in any collection, you are free to take anything you want here.”

Your eyes land on a tapestry, depicting a dragon being surrounded by a horde of angry men and their weapons. “What is that?”

Sylus lifts a brow, chuckling to himself. “A depiction of all the 108 ways men have tried to kill a dragon.”

You glance at him, trying to dig deeper past his words. “I take it they all failed?”

He stretches and languishes back on your lap, his chest rumbling with a deep chuckle. “Of course. A dragon is not an easy creature to kill.”

A part of you wants to know more about Sylus’s past, but something holds you back from asking him. You distract yourself instead by caressing the skin around his eye, feeling the need to take it—claim it as yours. “Anything I want?”

As if reading your mind, Sylus grabs your wrist with a smirk. “Anything except for my eye.”

You pretend to pout. “You’re not fun…” But, you don’t want to overstep on the dragon’s generosity. Your eyes land on a ruby pendant, and you finger the string of pearls he had placed around your neck earlier today. “What’s that pendant?”

He follows your gaze, and smirks. “Ah. You have good taste, little one. That is an old ruby worn by the first Empress of Philos. Thought to be lost after the Battle of the Brothers. I found it at the bottom of a volcano.”

You shiver, glancing at the impenetrable ruby.

“And it did not melt? Wondrous…”

Sylus hears the awe in your voice and shifts from your lap, his tail reaching to grab the necklace, depositing it into your waiting hands. “Put it on,” his tone takes on a huskier note, and you feel a spark of heat running down your spine. Obedient and eager, you slip the necklace on, feeling the heavy weight of the pendant settling around your throat.

The sight of the shining crimson jewel right at the centre of your chest mirrors the jewel embedded in between his pecs. “Look. We match.”

Sylus runs the tip of his claw over the cool metal of the ruby hanging around your neck and chuckles. “Indeed… though yours looks much more ravishing.”

His eyes slide down your cleavage, drinking in the sight of the pendant nestling snugly right between the valley of your breasts. A familiar hunger gnaws in his loins, and he shifts closer to you, breath warm on your neck.

His lips find the shape of your mark, retracing it with his lips. Sylus growls softly when he feels the ghost of your moan caressing his cheek. Your hands make their way back to thread his silver locks, holding him in place.

There is no hesitation when he pushes you onto your back, the sight of his bulging cloaca catching your eye. His twin cocks emerge from the safe haven of his scales, and you gulp at the sight of them, waiting to sink into you—fill you up with his seed.

Sylus tries to remove your dress, but his claws are much too sharp, and he accidentally nicks you.

“Ow—” you curse and lean back, lifting the dress over your head, letting it fall in a heap of leather and chiffon on the stony floor. Sylus feels his breath catching in his throat.

Completely bare for him, your skin shines, catching the heat of the open fire. The reflection of your body through the mountains of gold melts under the press of his, your legs perched wide and open to receive his cock. Sylus grunts, moving onto his knees. The feel of him breaching past the tight ring of heat is delirious, and your hips cant, begging him for more.

“So greedy,” he breathes, tongue flicking out to tease your quivering bottom lip. “I have barely even started and you’re already whining. Your body is very sensitive today, precious.”

You whine, the weight of the necklaces pressing hotly into your skin when his body sinks into yours. Sylus marvels at how easily you take him, your breathing coming out in short huffs. He fingers the necklaces dangling from your throat and decides you need more. Precious jewels of ambrette, emeralds and sapphires fall upon your body, the dragon dressing you in his horde.

He piles on more necklaces until you can barely see your breasts peeking past the fall of gems and chains. Sylus growls, his cock throbbing in you with every adornment, until he’s satisfied. He bends his head forward, licking and lapping at your tight nipples, puffy and stimulated from the cool metal rubbing against them.

The sensation of his warm tongue contrasting the cool gems caressing your sensitive flesh is too much. You cry out, tipping your head back, giving yourself fully to him. Sylus does not take such submission lightly. He holds you tenderly in his arms, gliding his nose over the arch of your throat, inhaling the scent of your honey liquor soul.

She calls out to him, a sweet chime though the terrain of his own lost spirit, drawing him back to the warmth of your body and love.

“I cannot live without you,” he murmurs into the safety of your neck, as he settles right to the hilt. The faint sensation of his dragon cock hitting your cervix makes you wince, and Sylus is immediately attentive, raising his hips and keeping his thrusts shallow.

Your grip around his neck tightens, and you giggle when he tickles your shoulder with his relentless nips. “Sy-lus—”

“Say my name like that, precious,” he grins, tongue snaking out to lap at your pulse point. “I love hearing my name on your lips.”

You groan. Sylus… Sylus… take me, Sylus…

He shivers as you chant his name, the sound of it on your lips driving him deeper into a frenzied state. Sylus picks up his pace, his grip on your hips tightening.

Ecstasy shoots through your veins, sparking from where you’re connected with him. The rocky ground is hard underneath your back, but your full attention is on his movement inside you.

Licking his lips, Sylus grins when he hears you gasp at the feel of his spare cock caressing your rear entrance, the tip pushing past the tighter ring of muscle.

“Sylus—”

“Let me play with you, my precious,” he whispers. Your eyes widen; it’s like his cock has a life of its own.

Sylus enjoys the way your hips twitch and undulate, your cheeks and chest flushing warmly from his ministrations. Your eyes close shut when the tip of him breaches past the tightness of your rear, cool fluid lubricating the arduous task of impaling you with his two cocks.

“Sylus, wh-what is that?” You moan, digging your nails into the thickness of his biceps.

“That,” the dragon grins proudly, “Is my claim on you. You belong to me now, my precious. Forever and always.”

The other half of your soul surges his hips forward, capturing you in a bliss of fullness you have never felt before in your life. Your cry rebounds across the cave walls, and he smothers your whimpers with his zealous kiss.

Sylus’s two cocks move inside you like a symphony of lust, drawing out your baser instincts, your moans for more, more, more.

He gives everything he has to you, thrusting deeply, needing to reach into the heart of your love and lust.

You’re completely incoherent, whining and writhing. The necklaces around your throat clink and shake with every thrust of your dragon’s forceful cocks inside your tight heats.

Sylus growls at the sight of your body and hair fanning out before him. You look like a dream, an oasis he has once got a glimpse of but never had the chance to drink from.

He’s dreamed of you once, when he was locked in the loneliness of the abyss: your valiant sneer, the sword of light plunging through his chest. A part of him always knew you would be his undoing. Yet, he never imagined his destruction would be so damn intoxicating.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, holding him close.

It takes every shred of his self-control not to lean in and draw blood from your neck. Sylus wants to mark you, needs to see his claim on your body.

It drives him to the point of snapping his teeth and growling, little more than an animal in heat. But, you don’t shrink or flinch away from him.

You take his dominance with a gleam of desire in your eyes, your sweet, supple body begging for more.

And Sylus wants to give it all to you.

He feels you tightening around his two cocks, the squeeze of your muscles heady enough to make his eyes roll back into his skull. The base of him is utterly ruined with a combination of his slick and your juices, streaks of white painting the inside of your thighs and dribbling onto the stony ground.

This dance between you two is unfettered and animalistic. Groans, growls, moans and hitched cries.

All of it blends into a cacophony of one. Sylus feels his blood heating, his mind reeling.

His thoughts are darkened with the need to breed and conquer—your womb his ultimate conquest. The dragon desire and instinct urges him to dominate, to plant his seed right in the heart of your fertile body. Sylus grabs your waist, changing the angle of his penetration. Your cries grow shriller, your breathing heavier.

He can sense the end of your tether, your body holding onto the last vestiges of your sanity.

Sylus growls, “Come for me, precious one. Come.”

A marionette to her master. Your body listens. Your heels dig into his waist, earning a hiss from him. He moans loudly when you squeeze tighter, nearly taking his breath away as you arch your back and—

“Sylus!”

Magnificent. He can’t take his eyes off the pleasure playing out on your face. The scrunch of your brow. Your desperate cries grow hoarser. Your body coaxes him to the edge and takes him under.

He spills inside of you with a low groan, talons scraping the rocky floor, his teeth digging into your shoulder. Possessive and intense, he keeps you pinned to the ground, letting his seed seep inside of you and take root—hoping his gift would someday grow wings.

You nuzzle his cheek, pressing your lips to his jaw and throat.

Sylus pulls you to drape over his chest, his cocks softening inside the embrace of your body. The silence mellows like a greeting between two friends, the afterglow keeping you safe and warm in his hold. There’s no sound beyond the whistle of wind in trees and the firewood crackling.

“You said dragons mate for life,” you whisper through the inky darkness of the lair, the warmth of his embrace lowering your defences; something romantic about the night giving way to your deepest curiosities. “Does this mean I am your mate for life?”

You’re so small and sweet in his arms. Sylus thinks he can hold you forever.

He pretends to close his eyes, though a smirk plays in the corners of his lips.

“Is that what you envision?”

“Is answering in riddles the only way you communicate?” He hears the frustration, the bite of sarcasm in your tone, and chuckles.

“Adorable even when you’re feisty.”

“An ass when you don’t give me a straight reply.”

Word for word. Parry for parry. Sylus chuckles, sensing he can get used to your presence for the rest of his life.

“Oh, hush,” he pulls you closer, pressing his face into your hair, “Do not ruin this moment.”

Tarus City is full of surprises.

You would have thought such a place like this would bear no mark of civilization, but Sylus surprises you with a visit to the morning market. The stretch of streets sell everything from love potions to stuffed dung beetles, and you wish you had six pairs of eyes and ears to take in all the sights and sounds.

Sylus walks beside you, his broad build hidden under a cloak, and you’re in a similar fashioned one.

He watches as you peruse an ornate box, before your eyes widen at something over his shoulder. “Sylus… is that a canvas made of dragon hide?”

His eyes travel to where you’re pointing and he smirks. “Tarus City is unlike Ivory City in the sense that anything you want, you can get here.”

You walk alongside him, hastening your steps to keep up with his long strides. “Can I find a potion that will turn me invisible?” Sylus shakes his head at your nonsense question and flicks your nose with his hidden talon.

“Your mind truly is a fascinating space, little one.”

You laugh at his words, missing how his eyes soften when you turn to point at a tavern. “I’m starving. Do you want something to eat?”

The dragon can’t say ‘no’ to your human requirements, and he follows your lead. You sit together in a booth right at the back, hidden away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Sylus orders two ginger ciders, and pays with a pile of coins. The innkeeper’s eyes nearly burst out from his sockets, and before you can stop him, he sweeps the cash, promising the two of you a feast to remember. Barely even a few minutes later, the food arrives, tables laden with meat, fresh fruit and casseroles.

Your stomach grumbles and your eyes take in the wondrous spread. Sylus chuckles when you dive right into a roast pigeon casserole, your cheeks all puffy and full. He pokes them and smirks. “Slow down, precious. The food is going nowhere.”

“Safe for you to say,” you murmur past quick chews, and swallow heartily. “I’ve noticed that you don’t eat much… you barely need any sustenance…” Another quick bite, and you tilt your head to the side. “Why is that?”

His chin perched in his palm, Sylus gazes at you from across the booth, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Ah. So, you noticed.”

You frown and sip on the ginger cider. “I did. You look like you barely enjoy food.”

Sylus shrugs and picks up a wildberry, popping it between his teeth. He chews on it and swallows, contemplating how best to answer you.

But, you continue: “I notice these days… you don’t see the beauty of music, can’t judge patterns, and flavors of food just don’t register for you, don’t they?”

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Dragons don’t need any of these to survive.”

“But, they’re part of the beauty of life,” you argue and he chuckles.

“And you would know everything about beauty and life, right?”

You huff, glaring at him. “I do know that life isn’t about treasures and kills… it’s about the wonders of memories created together,” you pause for a moment, feeling the words in your mouth. “It’s about love.”

A dark emotion crosses his expression, but it’s gone before you can dive deeper.

“Love? I told you before, it does not exist for dragons.”

You smile, catching him off guard. “Maybe that's why it’s so precious—because it doesn’t exist.”

Sylus looks away, like he can’t bear your eager expression any longer. “Starry-eyed optimism will get you nowhere in this world. You should know the fate that befalls a dragon’s lover.”

As if on cue, the stage lights dim and the roar of a dragon fills the dingy inn. An actor prances on stage in dragon wings. He sings for a long time, weaving a tale of a lonely dragon flying through the valleys. He doesn't change his cadence, and yet, you watch, enthralled. Sylus studies your reactions instead of the play, his ruby eyes sliding from the elaborate scales and fake blood to take in your entranced expression.

He can’t resist coiling his tail around your waist, and you smile, leaning closer to his warmth. He shifts to sit beside you, letting you rest your head on his broad shoulder. The play drones on, but you’re invested in it.

Then, the final act happens, and a woman with a red dress appears on stage, singing about her love for the fabled fiend.

Sylus watches you closely, taking in your reactions. Your eyes widen when the dragon kisses his lover, and you gasp when he stabs her with his claws, sanguine liquid pooling on the stage.

After the performance and dinner, you let him carry you down the streets in his arms, safe in his warmth and more than sleepy from the big meal. “Sylus… why did you bring me here?”

Always perceptive. He can never hide the truth from his bride.

“No reason.”

“But, I want to know why… and why the dragon had to kill his beloved even when she loved him so much.” Pouting, you try to appeal to his softer side, trying to sway him with your love. “Can you please tell me? Or else, I’ll have nightmares for the rest of the night.”

He sighs and you gaze at him with wide, pleading eyes. There's something more he’s not telling you—your soul can guess as much.

It’s clear he feels the same pull of curiosity and glances down at you. Slowly, he begins to fill in the gaps.

He tells you a story of a young boy, born with dragons but with a human appearance. How the boy grew up thin and scraggly, an easy bone to pick amongst the rest of the horned fiends. Sylus’s eyes waver with a rippling loss when he mentions the eradication of the kin, how that boy became the last of his kind.

“As the boy grew older, he began to develop horns. Afraid, he took a blade to them and his tail, but the scales would just grow back, soaked with blood…” Sylus continues and you’re mesmerized. “After centuries of anguish, he finally came to terms with his truth as a monster. Then, the love of his life appeared.”

The world slows down, chatter and noises fading in the background. Only his soft ruby eyes anchor you to this moment.

“She removed the sword from his chest, and yet, she was the one destined to kill him. He knew she would be his archnemesis disguised as his bride, but somewhere along the line, he stopped wanting to consume her soul…” His voice grows softer, sour with a palpable loss. “Slowly, he became consumed with the idea of being human, and forgot the true monster underneath his skin. Maybe it was when he saw her preserving despite the odds, or when her desires echoed his own and reminded him of his foolish, youthful self… whatever it was, he began to see life in a new light. And yet, a dragon can never be a human.”

He guides you down a narrow path. The night’s chill and his forlorn words make you shiver, and Sylus reaches out to tighten your cloak.

“Dragons have a tendency to toy with human desire, however they often become ensnared by it, and ultimately are enslaved by such needs and become true monsters…” He stops, turning to look at you. “In the end, he killed his beloved. That is the dragon’s curse.”

All is silent for a few moments. Sylus gauges your emotions.

But, for all the warning he gives you, he doesn’t expect you to reach out and encircle your arms around him.

“Take me home,” you whisper into his shoulder, hiding your face in the crook of his body. Seeking him out as your salvation and not your ruination.

Sylus’s heart squeezes. “How can you not hate dragons?”

You tighten your arms around him.

“Because I’ve seen real monsters, and you, Sylus, aren’t one.”

Your words imbue in him a desire so strong to take you up to the clouds and make you forget the sadness his words stirred in your soul.

Sylus swallows hard and carries you in his arms, lifting off into the skies. The wind whips in your face, yet you’re warm and safe in your dragon’s arms.

So, he thinks as his wings slice through the clouds.

This is why she stays by a dragon’s side.

Unbeknownst to either dragon or his bride, a hidden figure in a dark cloak watches their every movement.

He notes their closeness, the fact that the sacrificial brat is still alive. Oh, he thinks, grinning to himself, the Sacred Judicator would love this.

The news of the Fiend’s release may have shook the entire nation, but they now have a way to make sure he’s locked up in the Abyss for good.

In the shadows, the man dreams of the accolades he would receive for trapping the dragon, how his name would reverb from the annals of history for centuries to come. The Sacred Judicator himself would bestow his sword onto him for his mighty achievement.

And it will all be thanks to his wonderful bride.

Sylus wakes up one morning to you in his arms. The birds are chirping, the wind is whistling and the faint shadows of dawn illuminate the cave walls.

He embraces you, sensing nothing out of the ordinary until he presses his face closer to your chest.

Instantly, a sweet, warm scent floods his nose to coat the back of his throat. It smells like the innocence of the first snowfall, or the comfort one gets from sitting by the fire after a long day.

Pure, sinless… milky.

He drags his nose from your neck to your belly, inhaling the sweet fragrance, tasting the faint tremors of a tinier heartbeat rippling underneath your skin and flesh. His own heart skips a beat.

“Precious?”

He feels you stir in his arms, your mesmerizing warmth drawing him deeper into the cocoon of your embrace. You grumble, rubbing your eyes, the action making his chest squeeze.

You yawn and stretch your limbs, your body unfurling like the spine of a well-worn book. “G’morning,” you slur, still half-asleep, shooting him a dopey smile.

Sylus doesn’t know the first thing about a human female’s anatomy, or the possibility of procreation between a dragon and a woman. But, what he does know is this is no ordinary occurrence. His instincts are telling him something is different about you.

The sheen of your hair is glossier, your cheeks are fuller, and your body… he tightens his grips on your hips, still naked from the night before. Your body feels even more luscious under his touch. He smooths his claws down your sides in awe, feeling the sinew and stretch of your muscles expanding under his scaly palms. You giggle and shrink away, mumbling sleepily. “What’re you doing, Sylus?”

He drives his nose further down your body, inhaling more of the sweet, milky, innocent scent. His heart can’t deny what his instincts already know: you’re with child.

His child.

“Do you feel… different, precious one?” He rumbles, not missing the way you snuggle closer to his chest, your cheek squished against the ruby in his chest.

You close your eyes, gliding your hands over his broad back and chest. “Tired… hungry… a bit achy. Why?”

He huffs, mentally taking notes of your condition. “Do you feel… particularly achy?” Gently, he cups your belly, and you frown, your eyes fluttering open. The morning sun highlights the glow of your cheeks, taking his breath away.

You’re positively radiant.

“A little… my back hurts and my breasts feel a little sore…”

Sylus’s eyes spark with delight. “Is that so?”

You give him a look. “Sylus? What is going on? What’s with all these questions?”

He stretches his arm around you, holding you tightly to his chest. You feel him kissing the top of your head and wonder why he’s being extra clingy today.

“Do you know what you smell like now?” Without waiting for you to reply, he presses on. “You smell like a mix of warm cotton and milk—pure innocence… completely tempting…”

You crinkle your brow, wondering what is he on.

Sylus continues. “Precious, you don’t understand do you?” He gently tilts your head up with two talons under your chin. “Dragons are creatures of desire and symbols of reproduction… and my senses don’t lie to me, sweet one…” His next words make your heart drop right into your stomach.

“You are with child. My child.”

You swallow and glance up at him through your lashes, your lips slightly parted.

“But, how—” you stop, remembering the nights of unrestrained passion you both had indulged in for weeks. “... Oh.”

As if reading your mind and remembering the intensity which led you here, Sylus grins. “Yes. It seems our careless actions have resulted in something… wonderful.”

He presses a clawed hand to your belly, kissing you on the forehead. “Speak, precious. What is on your mind?”

You feel your heart expanding with both awe and fear. Awe for the life you now hold deep in your body, and fear of such repercussions of this magnitude. To carry a dragon’s seed, to be with the Fiend’s child—

“I… cannot go back to Ivory City anymore,” you whisper.

Sylus frowns, not expecting your concerns to lie with something so trivial in his eyes.

“Is that what you wish? To return back to that wretched place?”

Your eyes clear, as if you’re seeing him for the first time. “No. I do not wish that.”

Sylus tightens his grip around you. “Then, stay.” Here with me, is what he wants to add, but the words are stuck in the back of his throat.

He watches as you caress your belly, like you can sense the life you’re nurturing deep inside you.

Slowly, the cloudiness of your uncertainty fades, and the warm reassurance of your willingness to stay soothes Sylus’s soul. The dragon would not admit it, but he has no idea what he will do if you decide to leave him.

“Of course,” you murmur, and bury yourself deeper into his warmth. Sylus stretches his wing over you, shielding you closer to the coziness of his body.

“I’ll stay here with you—where I belong.”

It’s not long before Tarus City is overrun with the rumors of the Fiend meeting his Archnemesis once again. Gossipers flood the market, telling of the old sacred text coming to life, musing about how and when this spectacle will occur.

They say the Fiend will be slain where he stands. Others ruminate on his gradual downfall.

But, up in the clouds, you and Sylus aren’t tarnished by such rumors.

Within these walls, you slowly start to build your home with him. A nest of soft blankets, a sheath he made for your sword. Sylus spends a few hours a day cleaning out his lair, though cleaning is hardly the word when he’s haphazardly tossing out old treasures to make room for you and your growing belly to rest.

The two of you still hunt in the forest, though he’s mindful of your current lack of stamina. On days when neither of you feel like foraging, you don your disguises and head to the market, exploring stalls with various knick-knacks and collectives, bickering and haggling for goods like an old couple.

At night, Sylus watches as you brush your hair, humming a soft lullaby to the little life growing inside of you. It’s during these peaceful moments when you teach him how to dance, guiding his hands to your waist, singing a soft dirge your mother taught you before her untimely passing. When he first attempts it, his movements are clunky and mistimed. However, you never give up on teaching him, and soon, the dragon and his human bride navigate the stony floor with a rhythmic ease, his steps sure and grip on you never faltering.

As these moments occur, it hits him when he realizes how much you’re changing him on a fundamental level.

Dragons weren’t exactly known as patient creatures.

They plunder, loot, steal and burn down anything that stands in the way of their greed.

But, with his child growing in you, day by day, Sylus is coming to understand the sweetness of anticipation. He’s never seen a youngling before, having been sealed in the Abyss when he was a child himself. A part of him wonders how your baby will look like—tiny horns? A petite tail? His silverish hued hair?

The more he ruminates, the more he feels protective over this treasure you’re nurturing in your body.

Your dragon lover knows nothing about parenthood—his own mother having died in childbirth and his father slain by Legion soldiers after his homeland was invaded. Yet, despite this painful lack of experience, he’s unwavering in his devotion, showing up for you in any way he can.

Sylus is careful whenever he presses his claws to your belly, and makes sure his sharp scales don’t cut you when you’re asleep beside him. Wherever you went, he was always a step behind, shadowing you and keeping a close eye.

“You’re like a puppy now,” you tease him once, in the wide fields where daturas scatter, waving their red petals like the tops of a sentry’s hat.

He smirks at your teasing, watching you weave a collection of wildflowers together into a round, circular shape.

“I can’t help it—you’re whelping. It’s in my nature to watch over my bride and now, the mother of my youngling,” he places his clawed talons on your belly, eagerly trying to sense for any movement.

Your smile widens, touched by his concern. Sylus feels you slip the flower crown on top of his head and he chuckles.

“Come here.”

He pulls you into his arms, letting you press your cheek to his chest. The two of you lay like this for hours, feeling the breeze caress your skin and tug on your clothes and hair. Sylus picks up a datura bloom, and repaying the favor, tucks it into your hair, his smile soft and eyes tender.

Only you and this flower can touch me here, he whispers into the skin of your neck, setting your soul ablaze with pure love for him.

“Sylus, have you given any thought to the baby’s name?”

The dragon gently runs his talon over the slight swell of your belly, pursing his lips.

“I do… quite like the name Atlas for a boy… or, Serenity for a girl.”

“And if it’s both?” you tease. Sylus’s eyes widened.

“You suppose you’re carrying twins?”

His eager expression warms your heart, and you gently stroke his cheek. “I suspect it since my stomach is a bit bigger than we anticipated and I’m only a few weeks along.”

Your dragon lover presses his ear to your belly, trying to hear the sound of two heartbeats over your own thrumming one.

“I hear one—in sync,” he pauses and listens closer. Faintly, a third heartbeat lags after the second one, and Sylus gasps in surprise. “You are right, precious.” His words make your heart flutter. “I hear two.”

You gasp, eyes brightening with delight. “Sylus… could it be…?”

Twins. You can hardly believe it. He laughs, pure and unaffected as he embraces you fast to his chest.

The sun shines down on two lovers free from the constraints of burdens or prejudices, lost in each other’s embrace, celebrating a new start after years of unimaginable strife.

Sylus had left you alone in the market with two simple instructions: wait for him to return and don’t cause any trouble.

But, as always, trouble has a way of finding you even when you don’t go looking for it.

The square is a lively patchwork of activity—stalls piled high with ceramic pottery, earthenwares, textiles you barely know the name of, and curious trinkets from far fetched lands. You’re drifting among the crowds, drawn in by the oddities and novelties of the vendor’s wares, lost in the rhythm of the market.

That was when the shout came—shrill and unmistakable. “Thief!”

The cry cuts through the din like a knife, snapping you out of your daze. Your gaze shoots upward, locking onto a figure in the crowd. A man, clutching something wrapped in cloth, stumbles backward through the marketplace. His face is smudge with dirt, and there’s no mistaking the terror in his expression as he pushes past the onlookers, desperate to escape.

Before you can process what’s happening, the first group of soldiers burst onto the scene, their heavy armor clinking with every step as they flood into the square. Their gleaming swords catch the sunlight as they move swiftly, surrounding the area and cordoning it off. Your confusion doubles at the sight of the thief escaping through the metal gates right under the soldiers’ noses. But, they don’t react at all, barely concerned with him, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd, looking for something else—or, someone else, entirely.

It hits you then—they’re not here for some petty thief. This is an operation—a precise, organized one.

Sylus.

You pick up the pace, removing your sword from your scabbard, when someone pushes you to the ground. Falling hard, you cry out in pain and cradle your belly, looking up to find a Legion soldier leering at you.

His face comes to mind, filling you with dread.

Throw her down to the Abyss, he sneers in your memory, those cold blue eyes burning into your soul. And see how long the Fiend will take to swallow her whole.

He grabs your arm, yelling, “Got her!” as the other soldiers swarm around you, blocking your exit. Arrows rain down from the sky, swords shing as they clang and strike a giant mass in the middle of the square. To your horror, a black dragon raises his head, his scales streaked with blood, arrows lodged into his wings.

“Sylus!” You scream, but he can’t hear you through the commotion and his Fiend instincts. Those red eyes scan the crowd, finding you, and you fight back from the Legion’s hold. “Sylus! I’m here—!”

He roars, shaking the roof and the ground. You cringe back, crying out when you feel someone drag you into chains. “Sylus—help me!”

The dragon takes one step towards you when a huge spear is thrust right into his chest. You scream, and the disruption sends many into a frenzy. Citizens disperse, mothers rushing to shield their children, store owners rushing off with as many of their wares they can carry in sacks.

“Sylus!” Tears spill down your cheeks, and something hot and desperate pulses in your chest.

Take him… End him…

The urge to devour the dragon rises in you, imbuing you with strength to fight out of the chains. Determination fuels your movements and you slash at your captors, struggling from their grasp. You manage about a step when a soldier tackles you to the ground. A loud cry, like that of a wounded animal, bellows from the centre of the square. Shackles and chains appear, the dragon’s injuries repressing him from his escape.

He isn’t healing. Your frantic eyes scan Sylus up and down. His injuries are not healing!

“Sy—” A sharp pain stabs into your arm, and you look down to find a needle sticking from your skin. Immediately, the world before you shimmers and shakes, your head feeling woozy. You gasp, trying to fight off the vertigo and rush to your lover’s side.

A soldier aims for an arrow right to Sylus’s heart, and the feverish daze lifts for a moment—enough for you to kick the soldier right in his loins. The man grunts, his hold on you loosening, and you dart forward, putting yourself right in front of the dragon and the arrow.

Sylus roars behind you, and you taste his fear in the air. But, the second you turn to him, the sword of light forming right in your hand, you feel a burst of pain rupturing through your chest.

As if in slow motion, you look down at the arrow sticking out from your ribcage.

ROARRRRR!!

The ground shakes with the force of the dragon’s agonized bellow. Soldiers scream, and ropes seem to materialize from thin air—holding the force of his anger down.

You choke up a wad of blood, feeling the end of his tail coiling around your legs before he’s snatched away. The pain in your chest mirrors the one in his own, both your souls screaming and clamoring for each other.

Sylus… You reach for him, fingertips grazing his outstretched talon—

But, you’re yanked away, and Sylus is taken in by the Legion, their yells to contain him loud throughout the entire square.

Another thunderous bellow.

An arrow flies through the air, directed at you, but the dragon intervenes. He pushes you to the ground with his snout, shielding you with his face—

The arrow sinks squarely into his right eye.

You scream, clutching your face, your chest. Blood oozes out, his mixing with yours. The dragon staggers back, standing on his hind legs, half-blind and hellbent on destroying everything around him.

His roar could shatter your eardrums, and you sink to your knees, gasping in pain.

Blood swims everywhere, a sea of it in front of you.

You wipe your face, and crumple to your side, clutching the swell of your belly that’s bleeding down your thighs, your babies absorbed back into the earth below you.

My children… my dragon…

The world fades into a ringing, dark pit of pain. And, unlike before, you hope you never wake up again.

–

The Abyss is quiet and cold without the love of his life and her light.

Sylus steeps in the bitter depths of his own misery, trapped once more in the silence and darkness of a prison he desperately loathes. The blood from his right eye has long dried, but the lack of light makes it hard for him to discern the extent of his blindness.

He buries his snout under his claws, huffing in pain.

In his chest, his beloved rebels and screams, her soul equally in torment. He feels the agony ripping through her when they pull the arrow out from her ribcage, the empty ache of her womb now desolate of the children they created with love. Hot tears flow down the dragon’s leathery snout, and he brays in pain.

My love… my light… my precious…

The chains the Sacred Judicator wrapped him in are fortified with magic, leaving him helpless to fight against them. His soul is beaten and broken, the light of his life taken from him with such casual cruelty.

A dragon can never love a human and a human… will only encounter pain and strife when loving a dragon.

Why hadn’t he stopped you from falling in love with him?

All of this could’ve been avoided if he hadn’t saved you—hadn’t given you a piece of his soul.

Sylus trembles, the dragon instincts warring in him to break free while what’s left of his human tenderness shrivels up at the loss he feels radiating throughout his entire body.

My love… I am so very, desperately sorry.

The days pass, and he sees you in his mind’s eye, restrained in chains as well.

The humans who swore to uphold justice judge you by his mark on your shoulder. They beat you. Starve you. Sylus is helpless to aid you, forced to feel your pain and scorching agony.

A part of his soul drifts away, in limbo between life and death, hovering in a horizon where the sky kisses a field of flowers.

He finds you there, whole and healthy.

“Sylus…” your sweet voice whispers, your head on his chest. “Is it truly you here?”

He nods, unable to speak, holding you tightly against his body, as if you will disappear if he opens his eyes.

“Yes, my precious,” he murmurs into your hair, “It is I.”

The stillness of your belly tears through him like the agony of having his scales ripped from his body one by one. He falls to his knees, pressing his cheek against your stomach, sorrow seeping down his face.

“My precious, I am so sorry—I couldn’t—I wasn’t strong enough—”

You shush him, falling to your knees as well. You take his face in your hands, tear tracks glinting on your cheeks. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He tries to argue. “I failed you—”

“You saved me… can’t you see?” You bring his clawed hand to your chest, and gently caress his injured eye. “Feel this—there is nothing compelling us to destroy each other anymore.”

For a split second, he gazes at you in wonder.

The desire to kill and maim each other has been transcended by this act of pure sacrifice.

But, then, he shakes his head, words clogged in the back of his throat. He wants to tell you that you’re wrong—that he is not your salvation, but the one who brought you ruin. It’s his fault—can’t you see? It’s because of him you’ve lost everything you hold dear and holy.

Yet, despite the guilt clawing at him, he can’t tame the hunger inside. The dragon is greedy, harboring a dark craving that grows fiercer with each moment. He wants you—more of you—and leans into your touch as if it can quell the storm inside of him.

The scene is haunting, yet tender in its contrast. The dragon, monstrous and deformed, with his single, glaring eye, embodies the isolation and grotesque fate that befalls all monsters. Yet, his bride, in her ethereal grace, approaches him with a love that transcends appearance. In this cruel, faithless world where the honorable and different are unjustly punished, love is the one constant; it endures the most terrible of circumstances.

Your touch is soft, not recoiling from the ruin of his eye, but offering solace. The kiss you give, placed on the source of the dragon’s anguish, becomes an act of healing, a reaffirmation of your shared bond that exists beyond the physical. The bride, once a symbol of purity, becomes the monster’s redeemer through a single, powerful act of love and acceptance.

What was once grotesque is made sacred by a touch that mirrors his own.

The beast and his bride, reunited at last, after a lifetime of suffering.

Time blurs into a standstill.

Days and nights pass, yet Sylus cannot count them for he is buried underneath the ground like an abandoned corpse, hidden from the sun and stars.

One day, as he tends to his wounds, he hears footsteps above ground. The scent of men stings his nose with their sweat. The dragon stands up, growling in warning, but the figure who approaches him is not afraid.

In his lofty robes, the Sacred Judicator grins at him, a mockery of the broadsword strapped to his chest. He says nothing, stepping aside for his minions to dump a bundle in front of him.��

The familiar sharp tang of blood and broken skin—once precious and warm—reaches his nostrils and Sylus bellows.

Before he can lunge at them despite his limited range of motion, the Legion disappears, leaving him trapped once more beneath the rock—this time with the lifeless body of his bride.

Pain rips through his chest like a spear staking through flesh, and it’s from this sheer agony that his dragon spirit breaks, the snout and scales disappearing, leaving behind the shell of a man sobbing in his magical chains.

“No… no…” his voice is a strained whimper, echoing past the shallow walls.

Sylus’s strong arms, meant for destruction and death, wrap tenderly around your broken body. He lifts one claw to brush your cheek gently, his single carmine eye flitting over the bruises and cuts on your face, your arms. There’s a huge gash over your belly, where the Legion doubled down—making sure to leave no trace of his children behind.

Your legs appear broken, though your chest is rising and falling rapidly.

“No… no…”

A mighty roar tears through his lungs, echoing across the lair—shaking the base of this mountain they had kept him trapped under.

“NOOOO!!!!!”

All his life he’s been told he would cause nothing but pain and suffering, death and destruction. He had let them tie his wings down, banish him underneath the hard-packed earth where light could never breach. He had endured their endless taunts, their prods, their mutterings of him being nothing more than a beast—a mindless monster destined to bring Philos to its knees.

And now, he finally has reason to destroy them all.

Sylus staggers to his feet, his beloved in his arms, as he takes one step forward, and the next. Fat tears pool and trickle down his gaunt cheeks, falling right onto your unresponsive face. The chains clank and barely afford any give, but in his desperation, he lets the metal tear through his skin and scales—needing to fight back with every fiber of his being.

“I will avenge you,” he whispers in a low, strained tone, trying not to think how much torture and pain you had to endure at their hands. “They will ruin the day they dared to touch you, my beloved.”

The sacrificial bride, once delivered to him like a grim punchline, is the sole reason he’s taking control of his beastly narrative.

Sylus will make them pay through blood and fire—flesh and bone. For every laceration on your precious skin, he will destroy a thousand more people, burn cities down with a single flick of his claws. His great wings stretch and he releases another bellowing roar, breaking through the magic chains from the force of his own sheer will.

He takes to the skies. Faster and higher, he gains altitude, careful to hold you fast to his chest, shielding your face from the whipping wind.

Word spreads of his escape, men panicking and screaming. The Legion, having barely escaped the mountains, find themselves in the eye of his wrath. Sylus bellows, charging straight at them, his single ruby-red eye glittering with pure, seething rage.

They fire arrows at him, but he manoeuvres past the rainfall of quivers and gleaming, silver tips. He howls at them, a wounded beast on the last leg of his survival. The ferocious tug in his soul becomes a full-on desire to see the empire of Philos crumble.

Sylus expands his control, breaching the minds of these simple-minded fools. He forces them to jump off the cliffs, or bash their heads into the rocks till the bones of their bloody skulls gleam under the scorching sun.

No one can touch him now. High in the sky, he cradles the broken body of his beloved to his chest, feeling the soft caress of her cheek against his tough hide and skin.

I shall destroy them for you, my darling, he solemnly promises and shoots forward, intent on keeping his oath.

Ivory City appears on the horizon, then the gleaming domes of the hypocritical half-built Sanctuary.

Everywhere the shadow of his wings falls, the people lose their minds. They shoot and strangle each other, spreading fear and dissent across the entire land. Walls collapse and monuments dedicated to the Emperor and his Sacred Judicator crumbles under the force of an inferno raging through the city.

Their screams reach his ears like a cacophony of vindication. Sylus feels no sorrow for these greedy, selfish humans who have taken away the one true thing in his life he cherishes.

They broke her bones, mangled her limbs, snubbed out the sweet souls growing in her womb—all to destroy him.

And, they will pay.

He hovers in the air, a terrifying shadow over the destruction of Philos.

Blood and tears trail from his wounded eye, mingling on his cheeks like the devastation spreading across this corrupted nation.

Sylus watches them fall and burn to the ground, his expression unreadable.

When the cries and screams begin to wear him down, he turns and flies back to a field of daturas and the lair where your salves await.

Home is in the distance, untouched by the horrors of all that he’s witnessed. He lands gently onto the rocky crevice, closing his injured wings around you. Sylus sets you down on a soft pelt of fur while he lights a fire, stoking the flames to warm you.

The rapid beating of your heart pulses in his ears, and he prepares the salves just as you taught him—one for your wounds and the other for you to drink.

“My love,” he whispers in a soft voice fringed with pain. Tenderly, Sylus lifts your head, bringing the cup to your lips. He watches you imbibe the drink, coaxing you with gentle encouragement to drink it all.

When he notices some color returning to your cheeks, Sylus begins to rub the healing salve over your injuries. For your broken bones, he fashions tourniquets out of cotton and woven tree fibers.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He kisses your hair, gritting his teeth as he sets your bones right, your screams of anguish breaking his heart. “I know, I know,” Sylus whispers, wrapping the makeshift gauze over your broken limbs and fragile legs till you look like a swaddled doll.

He tends to you, day and night, until your strength returns and you open your eyes.

The first time your gaze focuses on him, Sylus thought he would have cried. You wince, but still lift your hand to his face, caressing the swelling of his injured eye.

He shrinks from your touch, murmuring I meant to fix a patch over it. Your answering smile is tender, and carefully, you caress his afflicted eye again.

“It doesn’t scare me,” you whisper hoarsely, licking your parched lips. “You’re still my Sylus.”

Your simple words, meant to soothe, makes him hitch a sob. “My love—”

“Shh…” You use what remains of your strength to lean up and embrace him. Sylus lets himself drown in your arms, putty in your affections. He knows he doesn’t deserve your grace or forgiveness for not being stronger and protecting you better, but he’s a selfish creature that desires for your love no matter the cost.

You feel the strength in his tight grip waning, and he collapses in your embrace. The adrenaline from days of tending to you begins to fade as his injuries and fatigue catches up to him. You notice again that his wounds aren’t fully healed, and struggle to sit up.

“Sylus—”

He shakes his head. “I’m… fine. Just let me close my eyes.”

Panic infuses through you and you shake your head fiercely, tears welling in your eyes. “No! Don’t you dare close your eyes—don’t you dare!”

You clamber off the pelt and cradle his head in your arms, placing it onto your lap. Sylus opens his one good eye, looking at you with love in his gaze.

“I am fine—”

You swallow your tears and shake your head. “I will not let you perish, not if it’s the last thing I do.”

Sacred texts prophesied that the dragon’s Archnemesis would be the one to end his life. But, his sacrifice has rendered the light broadsword in your soul void, and your own selflessness resulted in the destruction of his right eye, where a part of his tormented soul calls out for you to destroy him.

You will not hurt him any longer. You will save the dragon just as he had once saved you.

Light spills forth from the remaining half of your soul that is still yours to own, pooling in his chest where you bind your fate and heart to him.

Sylus grips your hand, as if begging you to reconsider.

“Is this what you want?” His hoarse voice is filled with trepidation. “Once we hold hands with each other, we are forever bonded through life and death,” he asks you again, knowing how monumental of a decision this is:

“To share your life and soul with a Fiend is a tremendous punishment—will you not truly regret it?”

You’re too far gone, desperate to keep him alive that you’d do anything to have him by your side.

“If following our hearts is a sin, then you and I must be the last of our kind in this world.”

With those words, you gift him your healing. As the wounds close, Sylus brings your wrist to his mouth and kisses the delicate skin with all the devotion his broken body can muster.

“In that case,” he murmurs hoarsely, eyes closing as his skin and muscles regenerate back together, “Stay close to me forever.”

The cave walls glow with a warm, golden light. The dragon stretches his wings around you, holding you fast to his chest.

As the last of your healing flows into his blood and soul, Sylus presses a kiss to your forehead.

The rays of a setting sun touch the intertwined figures of a dragon and his beloved bride as they drift into a deep, healing slumber—the hardships they once bore are carried away by the tides of forgiveness, their pain forgotten in the embrace of a second chance.

The silence of the datura meadow near the destroyed chapel fills you with an unadulterated sense of peace.

A slight breeze picks up, brushing past the tiny dragon horns and tail which grew in place after you gave your heart and soul to Sylus. You welcome the change—once the dragon and you became one, your heart has never known such felicity and joy.

You gaze at him as he plays with his children in the field, teaching his babies how to growl and roll over, never mind that your twins are just shy of a year old. Despite the lingering pain of losing your first pair of babies, fate was kind enough to bless you again with their souls in the form of their younger brother and sister.

A pair of snowy white heads shine under the gentle sun, while their father brings them to his chest, his clawed hands gently enveloping them closer to the warmth of his skin.

Sylus’s ruby eyes find yours, and a gentle smile plays on the corners of his lips.

“Beloved, are you alright? Is the baby giving you any discomfort?”

You wipe your eyes and place a hand on the tender swell of your belly, feeling the new life inside squirming at your touch. Sylus stands and cradles his precious boy and girl, sinking down in the grass beside you. His tail comes to wrap around your waist, and you press your face into his shoulder.

“Just caught in a reflective mood, that’s all,” you reassure him as Serenity coos, reaching out to graze her chubby hand on the curve of your stomach—as if she can feel the life burgeoning in you.

Sylus hums and places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever mood you are in, I want to be there for it, my love.”

You smile, the devotion in his voice filling you with an unshakeable sense of protection and love.

“I know, and I love you, my dragon… my Sylus.”

My dragon is here, your heart soars at the thought.

His jewel-tone eyes glow obsidian in the soft morning light, the affection of his touch reminding you that he’s here—that he will never leave you alone, not if he can help it.

“I love you, too, my bride… the mother of my children and keeper of my soul.”

The both of you stand, him carrying Serenity and you cradling Atlas in your arms.

The last dragon family walks into a valley that embraces them, together till the end, hand-in-hand as they step into their new beginning.

— aaaannndd that's their happy ending :') i wrote this as a way to cope with sylus's myth and how it obliterated my feels (kid you not, i was sobbing uncontrollably for an hour and felt so empty so of course i HAD to give them the happy ending they deserve)

+ sylus + his dragon fam inspired by @/napanewt art on twt.

since writing this destroyed a fragment of my soul, reblogs, feedback and nice words will be so appreciated ❤️

#🦢 writes #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus qin #sylus smut #sylus angst #sylus abyssal mark #sylus abyssal blossom #sylus as a dad #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus myth #sylus x mc #lads sylus #one shot: where the daturas bloom

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danidrabbles · 2 months ago

Text

Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this.

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here.

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind.

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor.

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset.

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff.

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name.

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same.

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?”

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.”

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it.

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy.

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?”

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand.

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.”

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief.

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle.

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far…

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small.

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk.

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door.

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this.

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you.

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better.

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment.

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang.

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about… the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little.

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat–

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here.

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.”

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared.

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.”

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are.

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway.

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile.

You respond in kind.

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed – like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago.

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination.

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day.

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week.

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support.

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters.

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front.

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand.

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts.

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–”

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after.

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.”

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply.

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.”

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead.

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely.

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.”

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.”

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place…

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room.

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare.

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan.

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze.

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.”

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips.

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you–

“Logan,” you breathe.

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes.

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth–

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your…

friends.

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor.

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.”

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction.

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him.

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit.

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down.

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine.

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge.

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt.

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt.

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin.

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you.

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.”

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple.

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall.

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come.

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions.

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed.

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.

And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help 🫂

#dani writing #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james logan howlett x reader #worst wolverine x reader #logan x reader #x men x reader #worst wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut

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dykecadence · 1 year ago

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its the weirdest most inane shit that pulls me out of stories like im reading one rn and theyre talking about a character writing their thesis and im just caught up in how no professor would approve this thesis pitch because its too broad

#from my experience and understanding theses are like Super Specific #like you cant just write about something like homophobia youd have to do like homophobia in [very specific thing]#i wrote my entire 20k words thesis on a single play and that was barely enough space #i have a friend who wrote a whole thesis about a single muscle treatment #shut up em #this isnt a diss on the author either byw just me noticing its always stupid shit like this that trips me up more than like 'orbs'#though i do hate orbs

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withwritersblock · 27 days ago

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Packing it Up

~Packing it Up by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: Requested! OKAY so here is this giant one shot that I have been working on for a while. it's been hyped up bc its SO long but there is no smut so if 20k words and no smut is not your cup of tea so sorry. There is bestie Jack and bestie Trevor in this as well Summary: Luke falls for Jack's best friend, Y/N. Warnings: swearing, a mini novela Word Count: 22,225 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

There was a time in her life that she thought she found the love of her life. He was her college sweetheart. It was the typical fall in love at college orientation and stick around for a while because you are in love. At least she thought she was in love with him.

Her family never liked him, thought that Henry was full of himself and never treated her right. Her childhood best friend Jack hated him. There was never a moment in his life that he was nice to Henry. Henry always said that it was because Jack was in love with her but that was not the case.

Jack was never the type of guy to keep his feelings inside. If he had feelings for someone, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell them. Even if it was his childhood best friend, he would tell her no hesitation.

Jack never knew why he hated Henry, he just knew that something was not right with the guy. His suspicions ended up being correct when she came over to his apartment this past April.

Usually, she called. There was never a day where she would just show up at his door because who knows who would be inside of his apartment. But he was her best friend since they were six years old. But she couldn’t return to her apartment and she had nowhere to go. So, she ended up driving over an hour in late night traffic to his place.

Raising her hand up, she knocked on the door a few times before she wiped her hands across her cheek. After several moments passed, the door was pulled open and Luke was standing at the door.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asked, scanning her features. Glancing up, she met his eye as her lips quivered.

“Hey Luke,” she let out as her voice cracked as she spoke, “Is Jack here?” her voice got quiet. Luke nodded as he stepped aside, allowing her to walk inside the apartment. Luke took a sudden breath as shut the door behind her. “Congrats on the call up by the way,” she mumbled as she wiped a tear that fell onto her cheek. He forced a small smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” he paused for a moment as he looked over at her. “I’m gonna go grab Jack,” he mumbled as he walked down the hall towards Jack’s room. She stood awkwardly beside the dining table waiting to either get kicked out or hug her best friend.

It only took a minute for Jack to emerge from the hallway. His eyes widened, his cheeks were flushed red and his hair was messy. His body was only covered with a pair of grey sweats as he walked towards her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around the center of his back.

A sob left her throat as she buried her face in his neck. His hand glided up and down her back soothingly.

A girl stormed past Luke, her hands were full of various clothing items as she practically flew out of the apartment. Luke stood awkwardly in the living room watching the pair.

The door slammed shut and Y/N pulled away from him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said through a sob.

“Don’t ever apologize,” he mumbled as he pulled her against his chest again, “What happened?” he asked softly.

“He’s been cheating on me with my roommate,” she mumbled against his chest. Jack shifted his gaze towards Luke, his entire body erupting in flames. “I can’t go home,” she let out.

Y/N pulled away from Jack, glancing towards Luke; to see him fuming too. Looking into his eyes, he took a deep breath as he shook his head. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

After that, he helped her move out of her apartment. Luke and Jack both were there to help move all of her things to her new studio apartment. At every moment possible, Jack would slip in a snide comment of how awful of a person her roommate was for doing what she did. Luke was just at Y/N’s side the entire time, quietly comforting her while they packed.

Her new apartment was an even split between their apartment in New Jersey and her school at NYU. It was a lot easier for her to travel between the three places and she was grateful.

It worked out that her school year ended a month after her disastrous break up. She went back home in Michigan with plans to spend the summer with the Hughes and posse. Y/N needed the distraction and the Hughes’ lakehouse was always the perfect place to do that.

Constant sun, bikinis, and endless drinking. It was her favorite time of year, it was her form of therapy. Even when she was having an amazing year, all she wanted was time on that boat soaking up all of the sun she could.

But this year, she needed that time away more than anything. For obvious reasons and for the other things that were going wrong with her life. Her new apartment had a leak in it and half of her wardrobe was destroyed and her finals didn’t go to plan because she was too overwhelmed by the fact her boyfriend was cheating on her.

The information fell into her lap that her roommate and Henry had been hooking up behind her back for months. It was as if they took her heart and smashed it to the ground repeatedly.

Now, the wallowing was something she was putting on the back burner. There was only one plan on her mind and that was letting loose. On the drive to the lakehouse, she informed Jack that she was not going to behave one bit and he gave her full permission to do whatever the hell she wanted.

Well, his friends and siblings were off limits, she couldn’t do them but she could do whatever the hell she wants. It was the usual rules of the lakehouse trips, let loose and have fun. But it often led to Y/N babysitting the five boys that were with her. She never really minded it but this year she told the boys it was her turn.

Given the circumstances, no one was opposed to the idea. Jack, Luke, and Y/N were the first to arrive at the house. Jack was at the grocery store getting an overwhelming amount of groceries for the house. Five professional hockey players under one roof, they were going to need a lot of it.

Y/N had already unpacked her suitcase in her room and had planted a spot on the giant couch in the center of the living room. She had a blanket covering her frame as she began to play the pilot episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A show none of the boys have attempted to watch, and she knew that at some point they would all get terribly invested.

Luke emerged from his bedroom on the second floor of the house, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. “Hey,” he let out as he jogged the five steps towards the couch. Lifting her gaze, she smiled towards the youngest Hughes.

Her family has been friends with his family since she could remember. She was the only kid that was actually close to the boys. All of her siblings were under the age of seven, so they usually looked up towards the Hughes boys as role models, more than anything.

“Hey Luke,” she said as she pulled her blanket up higher on her body. He sprailed out over majority of the couch. His head was laying on some of the leftover blanket beside her.

“What are you watching?” he asked while tilting his head back to meet her gaze. She looked down meeting his light eyes for a moment.

“Grey’s,” she said as she tilted her gaze back towards the screen. He scrunched his features together as he looked towards the screen.

“I can’t believe you like this stuff,” he mumbled before he let out a long drawn out breath. She chuckled as she looked back towards Luke; his eyes were already on her.

“You can’t say anything until you actually sit down and watch an episode,” she mumbled. He smirked before he sat up slightly; pulling some of the blanket over his lap.

“Fine, catch me up,” he mumbled as he pointed towards the TV slightly. She giggled before she began to explain the fifteen minutes of the show. “Wait, so that guys her boss?” Luke mumbled as he pointed towards Derek on the screen.

“Yep,” she said as she nodded dramatically. Luke shook his head as he blinked harshly.

After a few seconds, Jack busted through the front door carrying a lot of grocery bags. “Hey jackasses, a little help here,” Jack muttered as he walked past the giant couch towards the kitchen. Luke and Y/N met each other’s gaze for a second before they both jumped up from the couch to meet Jack in the kitchen.

While they were putting away groceries the other three boys arrived. They each dragged two giant suitcases inside, cheering loudly as they stepped inside. Y/N rested the boxes of pasta onto the counter as she excitedly walked out of the kitchen, the other Hughes boys followed quickly after her.

Y/N smiled widely once she saw the eldest Hughes brother. “Hey Y/N, how are you feeling?” Quinn asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Been better,” she said, a dry chuckle leaving her lips.

“Well that’s going to change because this is going to be the summer of your life, Y/N,” Trevor expressed as he held out his arms waiting for his hug. She smiled widely as she slipped away from Quinn towards Trevor.

“Planning on it,” she mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“That’s because we’re getting drunk off our asses every night,” Cole said with a teasing grin on his lips. She chuckled as she slipped away from Trevor towards Cole. He rocked her back and forth in a tight embrace.

“Definitely planning on that,” she mumbled as she slipped away from Cole’s embrace. “Jack bought a lot of stuff, let’s get started,” she teased as she started stumbling backwards towards the kitchen again.

She was laying in bed in silence. She was staring at her ceiling, replaying every moment of her relationship with Henry. Her mind was trying to find the exact moment he decided she wasn’t worthy of him or love. The moment he decided that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

Y/N’s probably laid there for several hours at this point, the silence starting to drive her crazy but she couldn’t find anything to fill the silence. Or overtake the sound of her own thoughts. She wiped her hands across her cheeks as she took a deep breath.

Her phone vibrated beside her on the bed. Her lips fell into a pout as she reluctantly pulled her phone towards her face. She read a text from Jack telling her to unlock her door.

A groan fell from her lips as she whipped the blanket off of her frame. She adjusted the loose shorts on her body as she brushed a few piece of nearly matted hair away from her face.

Pulling the door open, she was expecting to see Jack standing there but instead it was Luke. Her face scrunched together as she met his gaze.

“You are not the Hughes brother I was expecting,” she muttered as she stepped back.

Luke laughed as he forced himself inside. He held out a bag towards her, waiting for her to take it. She looked towards him suspiciously. He chuckled. “I was sent on a mission to retrieve you for the game tonight,” he let out.

Rolling her eyes, she took the bag and looked inside. From what she could tell it was a cute red long sleeve top. She closed the bag and placed it onto her counter. “I told Jack that I would watch the game from my apartment,” she mumbled as she suddenly felt very self conscious of how her appearance looks.

“Well, I don’t think this is optional. I was told to drag you out of the apartment no matter what,” Luke explained as he scanned her frame, “And I think you want to change unless you want to show up like a homeless man,” he said teasingly.

Her eyes widened as she smacked her hand against Luke’s arm, “That is so rude, Lukey,” she said while shaking her head, a shocked chuckle fell from her lips. She turned her gaze towards the mirror against the wall and she took a deep breath, “And so true, oh my god,” she muttered while taking a deep breath.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked quietly. He scanned her body, noting that she probably was definitely not doing okay.

Tilting her head to the side she stared towards the floor. She pursed her lips forward, “I think I could use a reason to leave my apartment,” she mumbled. Lifting her gaze, she met his gaze. He smiled widely. “How much time do I have?” she said.

Luke glanced down towards his watch, “Game starts in like three hours and it’ll probably take like forty minutes to get to the arena with traffic,”

She nodded, “Okay, that’s barely enough time but I’ll figure it out,” she mumbled as she jogged towards her bathroom. He pulled his head back as he stared towards the bathroom door.

“Barely enough time?” he mumbled as he shook his head slightly.

He heard the shower start and his gaze began to scan the studio apartment. It was a mess. Which was surprising because she was always the type of person to never have a spot of dirt in her apartment. He also had three hours to kill, so he walked towards the kitchen and began to clean her dishes.

She would either yell at him or be grateful, he didn’t know how she would react. But he was going to do it anyway. He connected his phone to her speaker and began to play his music.

It took another forty minutes before she reemerged from the bathroom, her body was only covered by her towel. She stopped short, tilting her head to the side as she watched Luke from a far. Her kitchen was completely spotless and he was vacuuming her living area. Her studio apartment was small so he was practically vacuuming the whole place.

He lifted his gaze, meeting her eye. He swallowed hard as he turned the vacuum off as he scanned her frame. “Is this okay? I’m sorry, I know how much you hate mess so I had time to kill and I thought that maybe–”

“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you, Luke. This actually means a lot,” she explained as she continued to look into his eyes. His cheeks flushed red while he smiled softly. “This is really sweet actually,” she mumbled as tears started to form in her eyes.

“Y/N?” he let out softly.

She shook her head, “This is really nice and I can’t cry so I’m going to take some clothes and then–um– go back to getting ready,” she mumbled as she wiped her hand across her eyes. She walked towards the bed which had the bag of the new shirt; one of the brothers’ got her.

He chuckled, “Okay,” he mumbled before he turned on the vacuum again.

It took another hour and a half before she was officially ready. Luke was able to clean the entire apartment and have time to sit on her bed and talk with her while she was applying her makeup.

“Hey Y/N,” he mumbled as he swung his legs back and forth in the air. She chuckled as she pulled the mascara wand away from her eye. She tilted her head to the side to meet Luke’s gaze. “Are you almost ready?” he sing-songed. She smiled softly towards him.

“Give me like five minutes,” she mumbled. He nodded as he pursed his lips forward. He glanced down towards his watch as he nodded. She shook her head slightly as she began to apply mascara to her eyelashes, “I’ll try and make it three,” she muttered. He smiled widely as he climbed off of the bed and began to pace back and forth.

“Okay good. Yeah, okay,” he mumbled as he began to walk around.

She kept her promise and they walked out of her apartment side by side. “The top looks good on you,” he mumbled as he reached over and pressed the elevator button. She smiled to herself as she kept her gaze towards the floor.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Come on,” he said with a wide grin, “I was thinking we could each get a popcorn and then we could–”

~~~

The other boys were drunk in the basement, laughing loudly as they continued a pool tournament. She never competed, usually she was the score keeper or Luke was the score keeper. But she was definitely too drunk to keep track of numbers.

Jack hit the eight ball into the exact pocket he needed to. He lifted his drunken gaze and smirked towards the other boys. Scanning the room, he noticed that she was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, meeting each of the boys' gaze. They all shrugged.

“I’ll find her,” Luke offered as he got out of the tournament quite early. Jack nodded encouragingly before he wandered towards the chalkboard to add points to his tally.

“Text me once you do,” Jack said as he drunkenly searched for Luke but he was already half up the steps.

Luke continued up the steps to see Y/N sprailed out on the large couch. Somehow taking most of it with all of the blankets and pillows surrounding her. He smiled to himself as he walked towards the couch. Pulling the blanket from her face, a drunken smile formed to her lips.

“Little Hughesy,” she mumbled as she saw him walking towards her. His face scrunched up in disgust as he shook his head. He flopped down beside her forcing a gasp from her lips. “You ruined my masterpiece,” she whined as she watched him climb under a completely different blanket and rest his head on the bright pink pillow. He didn’t know when they even got a bright pink pillow but it was comfy so he didn’t care.

“You called me Little Hughesy,” he whined before he shifted his gaze towards the TV screen to see Grey’s Anatomy on the screen. He shook his head before he further adjusted the pillow beneath his head. “Haven’t been called that since I was nine,” he countered as he lifted his head to see her already looking towards him.

“You will always be Little Hughesy,” she mumbled, looking into his eyes. “Even though you’re like huge.” He rolled his eyes while laughing as he continued to look over her features.

“Not huge,” he muttered before he looked towards the TV to see Meredith and Derek chatting in the stairway. “What’s happening?” he asked, referencing the show. Y/N’s lips fell into a pout as she looked back towards the screen.

“I will not explain everything you miss, you either sit and watch with me or don’t ask questions,” she explained while laughing.

“Well tell me who’s that guy?” he pointed towards the screen again.

“You ask me another question and I’ll call you Little Hughesy forever,” she drunkenly explained, unsure if the words left her lips in a cohesive sentence. He rolled his eyes as he smirked.

“I’m never going to get into this show,” Luke mumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to stare towards the TV. Absolutely getting interested in the show. It was definitely interesting but he would never let it slip that he actually enjoyed it.

For the next hour the pair layed together, quite far apart, as they watched the show together. At certain parts, she would explain a few details he missed when he didn’t watch the few scenes. She knew that he wanted to know, so she gave him the information anyway.

The other boys remained in the basement, half drunk and half asleep on the beanbags. The first night at the lakehouse they usually all get drunk off their ass. But most of the nights afterwards, they tend to have at least one person sober adjacent.

Which usually ended up being Y/N and she never really minded that before, but she wanted to be the one to let loose and not care. None of the boys objected and it was no problem for them.

She reached for the remote and she hit pause before she turned off the TV. Luke instantly sat up, “Hey, I was watching that,” he slurred out. Looking up towards him, she saw the blush across his cheeks. His hair was messily laid across his forehead.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced as she threw the three blankets away from her body. She stood up and began to pick up all of the blankets. A dramatic pout fell on his lips as he gripped the blanket that was covering his frame.

There was already two blankets in her arms as she tried to reach for the one covering Luke. He pulled it back, nearly forcing her to fall on top of him. A loud giggle fell from her lips as she stumbled backwards.

“Oh my god,” he let out while standing up. He kept the blanket in his hands as he fought the smirk forming to his lips. “Are you good?” he asked through laughter.

A gasp fell from her lips as she wrapped her entire frame with the three blankets now in her grasp, Luke was still holding onto the one he was using. “You nearly killed me!” she said through a wide grin.

“Well, let me at least help you as an apology,” he teased as he reached for one of the blankets she was carrying. Meeting his gaze, her smile softened as she continued to look into his eyes. He took the blanket from her. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in,” he teased.

“Oh shut up, Little Hughesy,” she let out dramatically as she lead the way down the hallway. He gasped dramatically as they turned into her room. She placed all of the blankets in her arms onto the queen sized bed. Luke dropped the blankets onto the bed, looking towards her. He pursed his lips forward, teasingly. “You are not tucking me in, go away,” she said as she shoved him backwards.

He gasped as he raised his hand up and held it protectively over his chest. “Here I was trying to be nice and you shove me away. Rude, very rude actually,” he teased as he crossed his arms over his chest. Y/N squinted her eyes slightly as she fought off a grin.

“Goodbye Luke,” she said as she pointed towards the door. He smirked as he stepped out of the room, waving towards her. He shut the door behind him and she spun around and stared towards the door while taking a deep breath. Slowly, she sat down and continued to stare towards the door.

~~~

The following morning, everyone was horribly hungover. Especially, the boys that remained in the basement were in a lot of pain. Their bodies were half on beanbags and half on the ground. Both Luke and Y/N were less damaged because they actually slept in their beds.

She was in the kitchen and making a full breakfast spread. She was already three homemade lattes deep and her hangover was practically gone. None of the boys have made an appearance beside stumbling up the stairs towards their rooms.

Completely ignoring the fact that she was cooking. Mainly because she never cooked for them before. So they assumed it was only for her. Despite the fact that she was scrambling two full carton of eggs. She also used two packages of bacon and sausage, It was very obvious that it probably wouldn’t be enough. But she was trying to be kind.

She heard steps coming down the steps and a loud dramatic yawn. She spun around to see Luke walking down the steps with only a pair of black sweats covering his frame. She trailed his body with her sleepy gaze while he wasn’t looking. His hands were rubbing his eyes as he finished the steps.

Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze back down towards the giant pan in front of her. “Hey,” he let out as his voice was very hoarse. He walked towards the fridge pulling it open to grab something to drink.

“There’s coffee,” she mumbled as she pointed towards the coffee pot with her spatula. He shook his head as he pulled out the orange juice container. Her face scrunched up as she stirred the eggs for the last time before turning it off and moving it to another stove top. “I forgot, sorry,” she muttered as she leaned down and opened the oven to check on the bacon and sausage.

“It’s cool,” he mumbled as he yawned one more time, “That’s a lot of food, you sharing?” he asked as he walked beside her, glancing all around the kitchen. She rolled her eyes playfully as she shifted her gaze towards Luke.

Meeting his eye for the first time since last night. Taking in a deep breath, she waved him back as she opened the stove again. A soft chuckle left his lips as he stepped back, drinking directly from the carton. He reopened the fridge and placed it back inside.

“Yes and what the hell are you doing?” she said and while chuckling. He shrugged as he stepped away from the oven as she placed the large cooking pan and placed it onto the stove top. “You cannot just drink from that and put it back,” she explained while shaking her head.

“Oh Y/N, you have no idea how often we do that,” he said, a dry chuckle falling from his lips. She clenched her jaw while rolling her eyes as she took a step back staring at all of the food she’s prepared. Suprisingly proud of herself. He took a deep breath, “I’ll buy you a new orange juice.”

She chuckled while tilting her head to the side to meet his gaze. He looked genuine in his offer. “No, it’s okay,” she let out as she took a deep breath. “Okay, make your plate and make sure to leave some for the rest of us,” she teased.

Luke barked out a laugh as he took a hold of a plate and instantly started adding to his plate, “Better tell them to hurry,” he joked as she slipped out of the kitchen towards Cole’s room which was on the same level as hers.

Softly, she knocked a handful of times. It took a few seconds for him to swing the door open. His head was sunken into his hoodie, “What?” he groaned out, his voice was practically gone.

“Breakfast,” she simply said before she walked down the hall towards Trevor’s room and alerted him of the same thing. He took a little more convincing to leave his room. She climbed up the steps towards Quinn and Jack’s rooms, not even sure if they were in them.

Firstly, she knocked on Jack’s before she took fast steps towards Quinn’s room. They both stepped out of their rooms at the same time, their faces looking like they had been hit by trucks. “Go get some breakfast before Luke eats it all. There’s also coffee,” she offered as she climbed down the steps to hear laughter falling from Luke’s lips. He was sitting at the dining table, already devouring the food.

“Okay, what’s the plan for tonight?” Luke asked as he leaned back watching his older brothers walk down the stairs towards the kitchen.

“Dude, I’m too fucking hungover to even think about tonight,” Cole interrupted before he shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, his face still deep in the hoodie.

“I’m down for anything,” Quinn mumbled as he added eggs to his plate.

“I was thinking we could go dancing,” Y/N said quietly as she walked behind Jack, waiting to get some of the food she made. All the boys shifted their gaze towards her, collectively nodding. Furrowing her eyebrows, she met each of their eyes before they all shyly looked down towards their plates.

“Why didn’t that take more arguing?” she questioned as Quinn walked towards the fridge. Watching him pull the orange juice out and drink it directly from the carton. Her mouth fell open as she shifted her gaze towards Luke who was fighting a grin forming to his lips.

“Because you got your heart broken so we’re going dancing if that’s what you want to do,” Jack expressed as he walked backwards towards the dining table. Taking in a deep breath, a small smile formed to her lips.

“Thanks guys,”

~~~

The pregame for their night out started an hour ago and she was the only one getting ready because the boys were waiting until last minute. Which never failed because they were used to planning everything perfectly for their pregame fits. A groan fell from her lips as she stared towards the two outfits in front of her.

One was a skin tight black dress that had a deep cut down the center of her body; practically revealing everything. She’s worn it to dance clubs before and has always felt so hot wearing it.

The other one was a corset top with a tight black mini skirt. An outfit she often wears to the parties in New York. She’s gotten in trouble a few times from Henry wearing it; too slutty in his eyes.

But she couldn’t decide which one to wear. She peaked her head out of the bedroom, “I need a man’s opinion!” she shouted. All of the boys shot up to their feet, no hesistation. Each of them holding beers in their hands as they continued down towards her room. Somehow all five of them were able to lay on her bed and stare towards her closet that had the outfits hanging up.

“I can’t decide which one will make more men dance with me tonight. So which one is hotter,” she questioned, cringing at her own question but the boys were surprisingly helpful. They shared glances as she watched each of them scan the outfits, then scan her frame.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea coursed through her body, regretting asking the question to begin with.

“Can you try them on?” Cole asked. Jack smacked his hand hard against Cole’s arm. “Ow! Damn,” he groaned out.

“Off fucking limits, you know that,” Jack scolded pointing towards him with his beer.

“I meant-like-how am I supposed to figure out what’s the hottest, if I can’t see them o-on her,” his voice got quieter as he spoke. The boys began to laugh.

A grin formed to her lips as she shook her head, “I’ve got Instagram posts in both of these outfits,” she let out and each of the boys pulled out their phones, searching her Instagram instantly. “Are you guys fucking serious?” she asked, laughing.

“Mini skirt,” all of the boys said in unison as they shifted their gaze towards her. It was awkward at how quick they all replied. Her eyes widened as she laughed; the boys began to laugh too.

“Okay, thank you. Now leave,” she said shoving each of them out of the door as they practically formed a single file line out of her room.

It took another hour for her to be done getting ready as well as the boys. They were all practically wearing matching outfits. Their bodies were covered in either a black button down or a black t-shirt. They were all wearing dark wash jeans that could practically be the same brand.

“Well if I have to be somewhat sober tonight at a night club then I’m gonna need some fucking-” Trevor stopped talking as Y/N walked out of the hallway. Her gaze was on her phone as she was walking towards the dining table to take another shot before they left. The tight black corset top showed off her chest perfectly and the mini skirt showed off her thighs in amazing fashion.

When Trevor stopped talking all of the boys lifted their gaze to see what he was looking at. They were all too stunned to speak.

She poured out a shot of tequila for herself as she spun around to see them all staring towards her. Her face scrunched up in disgust. They all instantly shifted their gazes elsewhere; besides Luke. He was still staring. He was more subtle than the rest of the boys as he was sitting on the couch that was practically angled in her direction.

It was impossible not to be attracted to her; literally so stunning everyone had to stop and admire her for a moment. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath as he watched her take the shot. She threw it back and didn’t even flinch at the taste. She placed the plastic shot glass back down onto the counter as she walked towards the group of guys. All of them now, slightly flustered.

“Anyone call the Uber yet?” she asked as her gaze met Luke’s. He quickly shifted his gaze down towards his lap. His legs were bouncing intensely. She took in a deep breath as she forced her gaze towards the floor.

“Should be here any second,” Jack said as he lifted his gaze and scanned her frame shamelessly. Watching Jack, she took a deep breath before she walked back towards the dining table. “Wha-what are you doing?” he questioned.

She poured out another shot, “I’m too sober for all of your eyes to be staring at me like this,” she mumbled before she took the shot again; this time cringing at the taste.

The ride to the club took only ten minutes and in those ten minutes, it felt like every ounce of liquor in her body overtook all of her thoughts. She was sandwiched between Luke and Trevor in the furthest backseats. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as her vision was starting to blurr in front of her.

Tilting her head up, she met Luke’s gaze. His eyes squinted slightly as he scanned her features. “You good?” Luke asked softly. Looking into his eye, she nodded too confidently. He chuckled as he scanned her features, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment. “Are you drunk?” he asked barely above a whisper.

Pursing her lips forward, she nodded. He rolled his eyes playfully as the car was pulled into park outside of the club.

Cole and Jack slide the doors to the mini van open and climbed out of it. Y/N began to climb out of the car and it was quickly followed by Luke and Trevor. “You got your fake?” Trevor asked Luke barely above a whisper. He nodded. Luke stayed at the back of the line, avoiding being too close to his brothers.

Without turning back, Jack and Quinn head straight into the nightclub. Cole and Trevor were next and Trevor was definitely not looking forward to being practically sober. Y/N walked towards the entrance with her ID in her hand. The bouncer didn’t hesitate as he let both Luke and Y/N in no problem.

Luke smirked towards her as they continued into the club. She smiled towards him as she started walking deeper into the night club. She didn’t care if Luke was following her or not. All she wanted was to dance and drink more alcohol. Her hips instantly swayed back and forth to the beat of the loud chest vibrating music.

She was at the center of the dance floor, nearly bumping into every body possible. She found a spot, just for her and she danced to the music alone.

It’s been months since she’s felt this free. Sure, it was dancing at the center of a club, surrounded by hundreds of people feeling the same way. It was the first time that she's been single in her early twenties and she was okay with drawing all of the attention she could. God, she loved being the center of attention.

Except it didn’t last long for someone to take a hold of her waist and begin to dance with her. She didn’t mind, her whole intention for the night was to get close and sweaty with random strangers. His hands glided along her stomach as he grinded to the beat against her. She ran her hands across the top of his as she continued to grind with him to the beat.

She was with him for a while, several songs had past as he tried to move things along with her. Her body was running hot as her body was erupting in goosebumps with his slow slick movements along her frame.

His hands began to brush her hair off of her neck. Slowly, she spun around, allowing his hands to rest very low on her waist. Looking up, she saw a complete stranger. Her hands slipped from his shoulders as she began to walk away from him, sauntering away.

Her eyes connected with Trevor’s, he was sipping from a glass with a clear liquid. She knew it was water because once someone is assigned the sober job; they take it seriously. Clenching his jaw, he brougth the tiny red straw towards his lips as he took a small sip. He watched her wander towards the bartop.

She walked up towards the bar, smiling widely towards the bartender. His eyes widened as he leaned against the counter to hear better. “Tequila shot!” she shouted. He nodded as he leaned back and began to pour the liquid into a tiny glass.

“Starting a tab?” he asked and she nodded, handing him her card. He went over to the computer and started typing a few things. But she didn’t care as she took the small glass and tossed it back. Burning her throat on the way down, but it felt so good. The added courage gave her full permission to really let everything lose.

All she wanted was to feel close with someone. She wanted her heart to be jumping into her throat, her body vibrating from the music. She craved the feeling of a stranger’s lips against hers. Maybe even more.

There was an attempt to slide back into the center of the dance floor. Except her gaze landed on Cole and Jack dancing Jersey Shore style. Cocktails were in their hands as they were dancing back and forth. Jack’s eyes lit up as he saw her walking towards them.

“Y/N!” he shouted but it was barely audible as the music was so loud. She smiled widely as she let out a long drawn out breath as she began to dance again. The boys were laughing loudly.

It didn’t take long for another guy to slide behind her. Jack and Cole shared glances as they fought off a laugh rising in their throats. They began to dance away from them; knowing that Trevor was keeping an eye on her. The two boys continued to dance towards the bar, as their drinks were running low.

After a few minutes, she got bored as the man had no sense of rhythm so she continued deeper into the crowd.

Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Luke’s. He was watching her from afar. He slowly brought the cocktail to his lips, finishing the drink. He set it down on a random table as he tilted his head back. His eyes were still watching her. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip as he fought a smirk forming to his lips.

It could have been the seven shots of tequila in her body or the strobing blue and white lights in the club but her heart jumped into her throat. Pursing her lips forward, their eyes remained connected from across the night club for a moment. Shyly, she dipped her gaze towards the floor. The pounding music made her vision blurred.

Lifting her gaze, she looked towards his direction to find him gone. A frown formed to her lips. As the song changed she slipped deeper in the crowd in search of him.

It didn’t take long to find him because he was searching for her too. They bumped into one another, giggles falling from their lips. His hands rested onto her hips to stablize her. She looked up towards him meeting his gaze. He smirked as he scanned her features as he bit his bottom lip.

His hands glided towards the small of her back. Her hands landed on his chest as she smirked up towards him. His eyes lingered on her lips for a second but it was so dark she couldn’t tell.

He leaned down towards her ear, “Wanna dance?” he asked before he pulled his head back. She smiled as she slowly spun around, allowing her body to be pressed against his.

It was instant that their bodies moved in sync as he wrapped his arms losely around her stomach. His fingers delicately traced against the small section of exposed skin just above her hip. Her body erupted in heat as she pressed her head back against his chest as they were moving along to the beat of the song.

Her hands rested on top of his hands as she glided along his skin. Her breathing matched his as the beat of the music was pounding into her chest. He slowly took a hold of her hair and carefully pushed it off of her neck. Her hair fell off of her shoulder. The delicate touch against her neck sent shivers down her spin. His lips were hovering beneath her ear.

“Hey,” he whispered into her ear. She smiled widely as her heart began to pound hard against her chest.

Tilting her head back, her eyes shut as she allowed herself to melt into his arms fully. His fingertips graze along her exposed skin along her hips.

Something about being in his arms felt so right, his lips grazing the skin along her neck, the way his hands dragged along her skin, the way his body moved with hers. It was right, had to of been.

At least the seven shots of tequila told her so.

His lips brushed against her skin and she slowly spun around. His hands remained on her frame, they were loosely on her lowerback. She rested her hands onto his shoulders as she slowly glided her hands up his neck into his hair.

Leaning towards him, their noses bumped into one another as they were breathing heavily. A smirk formed to his lips. He pulled her tightly towards him, their chests were pressed against one another as she was doing everything in her power not to kiss him.

His hand slipped beneath her tight corset top; desperate to feel more of her skin. The small section between her mini skirt and her corset wasn’t enough for him.

Her fingers tugged his hair slightly as she tilted her head to side, nearly allowing him to kiss her. But he didn’t, his lips were hovering over hers.

“Luke,” she whispered into his ear, he tilted his head back to meet her gaze. Her fingers slipped from his hair, down his neck. A smirk formed to her lips as she slowly stepped back away from him. His hands tried to keep a hold against her body but she stepped away from him.

Maintaining eye contact, she took several steps back; winking towards him. He chuckled as he shook his head, while fighting a grin forming to his lips.

Her body instantly ran cold as she remerged into the crowd, her eyes met Trevor’s for a second before she continued towards the bar. Her breathing was still heavy while she missed his body pressed against hers.

She was sitting on her couch finishing up her flashcards for her hardest final exam. She was on the last page of her study guide and notes and only had eight flashcards to make left.

She began to hum along to the country song playing in the background as she continued to write the details onto her card. There was a loud knock against her door and she slowly climbed off of the couch.

Y/N walked towards the door and pulled it open to see Luke waiting for her with Chinease food takeout in his hand. She smiled softly as she stepped aside letting him in. “Can you take a break?” he asked softly as he held up the comically large paper bag.

“I think I can for a little bit,” she teased as she pointed towards the tiny dining table. He happily walked towards it and placed the bag onto the table.

“Okay, so I ordered practically everything, but it's like a buffet style so we can eat whatever we want,” he explained as he began to pull out each of the containers. She smiled softly as she sat down and looked towards him excitedly. “Hopefully this can make studying easier for you,”

“Thank you. Definitely in need of this,” she mumbled as she opened the first container, it smelled amazing. “Holy shit,” she mumbled as she held her hand towards Luke as he handed her the plastic set of silverware.

“Right?” he said excitedly as he placed the paper bag onto the floor before he opened the egg roll container and took one out. “How is studying going by the way?” he asked before he took a bite.

She tossed her head back as a groan fell from her lips. He chuckled with a mouthful. “I am this close to dropping out and becoming a stripper,” she let out, only slightly joking. His eyes widened as he stifled a laugh.

“I’d watch,” he muttered, causing her to kick him beneath the table as she laughed. “I mean you gotta support local–”

“Do not finish that sentence Luke Hughes,” she warned through a laugh.

“Fine, fine. How about I help you study instead?” he offered before he tossed the rest of the egg roll into his mouth. Y/N stared towards him suspiciously. “You realize I also went to college right? I’m not like Jack who barely attended high school,” he explained.

“You say that like you didn’t just drop out,” she explained teasingly.

“I didn’t drop out, I finished off the semester early. You know because the whole life long dream of playing in the NHL happened. No big deal or anything,”

“Right, completely forgot,” she said sarcastically. “Okay, but if you distract me, then you have to leave,”

“Got it,” he mumbled before he took a different container and opened it up.

For another hour, they both feasted on everything that Luke bought. It was definitely too much food but she was happy that she wouldn’t have to buy groceries for several days.

He waited on her bed as she finished making the last of her notecards. He was scrolling on his Twitter feed, reading different posts regarding the league. She took the large stack of cards and walked towards him and handed them over towards him. He stared blankly.

“Okay, you and I definitely study differently,” he muttered as he took the stack and began to flip them back and forth. “Um, am I reading the definition or term?”

“Definition first and then once I have it down, we’ll do term,” she explained. He nodded slowly while he kept staring at the stack. “Unless you actually don’t want to help me,” she teased.

“Nope, I’m ready whenever you are,” he muttered. She hummed as she sat down on the couch, looking towards him expectantly. He began to read the lengthy definition waiting for her to answer.

She answered incorrectly, confidently, and they both realized it was going to be a long night. “I hope you didn’t have plans tonight,” she mumbled as she met his eye from across the room. He smiled towards her.

“My calendar is wide open,” he said with a grin.

It had been several hours later. Luke didn’t complain once the entire time they studied together. He didn’t hesitate when she got the same term wrong for the fifteenth time. Simply, told her the correct answer and went on. At this point, she was pacing back and forth in her tiny apartment. It was her attempt of trying to speed up the mesmerization process.

He was watching her pace back and forth as he was laying on his stomach. He was kicking his feet back and forth slowly as she continued to pace. “Why don’t we take a break?” he asked as he placed the notecards in front of him. She shook her head as she stared towards her ceiling trying to think of the answer.

“Okay, we’re taking a break,” he mumbled.

“Luke,” she whined as she stopped short.

“You will not remember any of this if your brain is short circuiting,” He said while standing up from the bed. He took steps towards her, meeting her eye. “Let’s go take a walk,” he mumbled as he examined her tired features. She nodded as she let him take the lead.

“Maybe we’ll stop and get some hot chocolate or something,” he expressed as he took a hold of her jacket and held it out towards her. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ as she began to cover her frame with it.

“Okay,” she let out softly as she met his eye once more. He pulled the door open and they both began to walk out side by side.

At first they didn’t say anything as they walked out of the apartment and down the stairs. They would share awkward glances as they would squeeze around the tiny staircases and the small door that led to the lobby.

They stepped outside and it was surprisingly cold as they began to walk down the busy sidewalk. Luke shoved his hands into his pockets as he glanced towards her. She was so beautiful, he’s always recognized that.

“Are you doing okay with everything?” he asked softly.

“I just want to pass this last exam,” she said simply, very clearly thinking about something else. He continued to look over her features, nearly bumping into someone in the process.

“Anything else on your mind?” he asked barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath as she kept her gaze ahead.

“I just wish I was good enough,” she explained. His eyes widened as he continued to look over her side profile. She contemplated on explaining further, lifting her head up, she met Luke’s light eyes. His desperation to make her feel better is evident in his gaze. “I want to be good enough,” she mumbled as her lips quivered.

“You are more than enough, Y/N. He’s a fucking idiot for not thinking so, you have to know that,” he explained as he took a hold of her arm. He pulled her back, forcing her to face him. Her lips continued to quiver. “You are gorgeous and smart and kind and you make everyone laugh. I mean you should really do a comedy tour. You are beyond perfect,”

She scanned his features and took a shaky breath. Swallowing hard, she nodded. “You laugh at everything,” she said barely above a whisper. He chuckled softly while shaking his head. He pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I do not laugh at everything,” he let out softly as he ran his hand through her hair for a moment.

Taking in a deep breath, she shut her eyes. “Thank you, Lukey,” she mumbled as her entire body softened against his body.

~~~

It didn’t matter what time she got back or the amount of alcohol in her system; she was always the first one awake. Although, she was definitely violently hungover. She was sprailed out on the couch with three blankets covering her frame. She had a large Yeti cup of iced coffee that she was sipping dramatically to try and fix the headache she was dealing with.

Trevor entered the hallway, his head deep inside of a hoodie. He smirked once he saw her. “Didn’t think I’d see you awake until this afternoon,” he teased. She rolled her eyes, shutting them harshly as her entire head felt like it was going to fall off. “Have you eaten anything yet?” he questioned as he walked towards the kitchen.

“No,” she forced out as she took in a deep breath.

He nodded as he was quickly putting a bagel into the toaster. He glanced towards her for a second as he walked towards the living room.

“Do you remember last night?” he questioned.

Did she remember last night?

She hasn’t stopped thinking about last night. Her mind keeps replaying the moment she nearly kissed him. The feeling of her heart beating so hard she was scared it would explode in her chest. Her fingers in his hair, his hands touching her skin, the feeling felt so perfect and so right.

Yet it was so wrong. He was her best friend’s little brother. Jack’s little brother. Family has always been off limits and she was always off limits to him. Jack would lose every once of trust and love he had for her if she got with his little brother. So wrong but she can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Or to be that close to him every night. She needed him, that’s all she knew.

“Y/N, hello?” Trevor asked, nearly too loud for her liking. Her aspirin wasn’t working as fast as she would’ve hoped.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember it,” she mumbled, shyly.

“You remember drinking half a tequila bottle,” he asked as he continued walking towards the couch. He met her gaze, a teasing grin on his lips.

She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as she covered a blanket over her face, “Do you really think I would look like this if I didn’t?” she mumbled. A loud laugh fell from his lips as he plopped down beside her.

“So you remember dancing with Lukey then,” his voice got softer. She kept her face hidden as she felt her entire face scrunch up nervously. “Y/N?” he asked softly. Slowly, she pulled the blanket from her face meeting Trevor’s gaze. She hummed. “Girl, come on, everyone knows your off limits but Luke? That’s-”

“I know!” she let out.

“He’s Lukey!”

“I know!”

“Jack would be so mad,” Trevor let out barely above a whisper.

“ I know, Trev! I’m gonna talk to him,” she mumbled.

“Jack?” Trevor questioned as the toaster popped the bagels out. He shot up from the couch.

“N-no Luke, I’ll tell him that last night was a drunken mistake,” she mumbled as she took a deep breath.

“I’m just-” Trevor mumbled as he began to smear peanut butter onto the bread.

“I know,” she mumbled as she took another sip from her iced coffee. Trevor walked back towards her with a plate. He handed it towards her and she smiled widely. She sat up slightly as she took a hold of the plate and instantly began to bite into the bagel.

There were loud footsteps climbing down the steps, both Trevor and Y/N switched their gaze towards Luke who was climbing down the steps. His face was hidden by his hoodie as he walked directly towards the kitchen. He wasn’t even looking towards the couch, he was in desperate need of food.

Her gaze lingered on him. Her heart jumping into her throat as she felt her breathing stagger slightly. Her eyes were stuck on him. He was intoxicating and she was in trouble as she watched him from a far.

Trevor watched her watch him, a smirk forming to his lips before he stood up from the bed. “Try not to throw that up, I’m going to go shower,” Trevor said loudly as he wandered back down the hall towards his bedroom.

A chuckle fell from her lips before she bit into the bagel again. Luke wandered towards the living room, biting into a uncooked bagel of his own. He smiled softly once he saw her.

“Good morning,” he mumbled through a mouthful. Squinting her eyes slightly, she stared towards him suspiciously. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asked bluntly after swallowing his food. Her eyes widened as she shook her head. He nodded, “Okay,” he said simply before he walked back towards the stairs.

“Wait, that’s it?” she questioned as she sat up slightly, placing her food onto the coffee table. He spun on his heel to meet her gaze. “You’re not going to try harder to talk about it?”

He chuckled. “Uh no-you’re the one that wanted to dance with me so, if you don’t-”

“Um, if I remember correctly you’re the one that asked,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You were the one that was making eyes at me-”

“Eyes at you!” she let out appalled. He chuckled as he took a step towards her. “Now that is ridiculous,” she teased. All he did was purse his lips forward and nod. “It was a drunken dance that’s all,” she explained.

He smirked as he nodded, “Yeah,” he let out simply. He walked around the couch and slowly sat down beside her. He met her gaze, “Whatever you say,” he mumbled.

“What does that mean?” she questioned, feeling a grin form to her lips.

“I mean you did almost kiss me, but sure, just a drunken dance,” he let out, a smirk on his lips.

“I did not!” she let out.

“Oh sure, yeah. Definitely not,” he said tilting his head to the side, his eyes squinting slightly. She rolled her eyes playfully before she reached towards the remote. Her aspirin was finally starting to work.

“I did not try to kiss you,” she said quietly. He shook his head before he stole one of her blankets and draped it over his lap over himself.

“I didn’t,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side, meeting his eye once again. Her gaze lowered towards his lips for a second.

“Are you going to put on Grey’s or not?” he asked softly.

All she could muster up was a nod. He smirked before he was able to bite into his bagel. She rolled her eyes playfully as she reached towards her plate.

~~~

Once all of their hangovers were done they decided to spend the rest of the afternoon on the boat. Quinn was already on the boat, preparing it. Jack and Luke were setting up the coolers of alcohol while they were waiting for the others to come outside.

Y/N took a hold of her sunglasses and her Kindle as she started walking outside. She stopped short as she watched Jack shove Luke into the lake. She could hear Quinn and Jack’s laughter from the backdoor of the house.

It didn’t take long for him to climb back into the boat, his body completely soaking wet. His hair dripping as it was laid across his forehead.

Her heart began to beat hard against her chest as her gaze lingered on his frame, watching the water roll off of his body. His swimtrunks were tight against him. He was tugging at the bottoms, the v-line on his body became more evident as he was adjusting it. He looked good and she was not being shy by the she was staring at him.

Subconsciously thankful for the fact that her sunglasses hid her gaze.

“Are you sure it was a drunken mistake?” Trevor asked as he stood beside her. Suddenly, she shifted her gaze towards him. She swallowed hard as she subconsciously shifted her gaze towards Luke again.

“It was,” she mumbled as she began to walk towards the dock.

“Are you sure because you are staring at him like he’s a piece of meat and you’re starving,” Trevor whispered as he followed after her. She barked out a laugh as she glanced towards Trevor.

“I am not,” she muttered as she walked towards the dock, meeting Jack’s gaze. Her soft smile fading as guilt overwhelmed her features. Jack frowned slightly as he walked towards her, holding out his hand to help her into the boat. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything as he walked towards Quinn at the head of the boat.

She sat down in her usually spot and instantly tilting her head back. A sigh fell from her lips as she felt the heat radiate over her skin.

Cole started jogging towards the dock, “Hurry up asshole!” Quinn shouted through a laugh. He was shirtless as he was carrying a beer and a towel.

“You guys all left me!” Cole shouted as he reached the boat. He was able to climb into the boat no problem before he sat down beside Luke. Shimming as he tossed the towel beside him before he brought the beer towards his lips.

“Okay, are we ready?” Quinn asked and everyone cheered slightly. He chuckled as he started driving out into the lake. Luke took a hold of the speaker and started playing music loudly from it. He was leaning towards Trevor and Cole, talking about something.

Y/N was sitting with her Kindle in her hands, she was trying to find something to read. Jack sat down beside her, practically against her. She lifted her gaze, meeting his eye through her sunglasses.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked as he tapped his hand against her thigh before he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Better,” she mumbled.

He nodded, “Good, I’m glad,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, “What are you reading?” he asked. She chuckled as she tilted her head against his shoulder. Her gaze shifted towards Luke who was looking towards her already. Once their eyes connected, or he assumed they did through her sunglasses, he shifted his gaze towards his lap.

“I don’t know yet,” she said softly. Her gaze still watching him as he leaned back onto his arms. His abs on fully display. Her mouth nearly fell open but she stopped herself as she looked back down towards her Kindle.

“Want a beer?” Jack asked as he leaned forward towards the cooler. She shook her head as she selected a romance novel and began to load it up.

It was a couple hours later and the sun was starting to go down, creating a beautiful sunset over the water. She was no longer reading, only got around fifty pages done. But now she was sprailed out on the back of the boat, laying on her stomach. She was staring towards the sunset. Luke climbed beside her, laying down on his stomach.

Tilting her head to the side, she met his eye. “Hey,” she mumbled. He smiled softly before he interlocked his fingers as he shifted his gaze towards the sunset. Her eyes kept admiring his side profile. His lips were curled upward slightly as he was looking over the pink and orange hues of the sky.

“I always forget how pretty the sunset is out here,” she mumbled as she forced her gaze towards the sky.

He hummed as he shifted his gaze towards her, scanning her features. “It is isn’t it?” he muttered as he looked at her side profile for a moment before he shifted his gaze back towards the sunset. “I’m glad you came with us,” he let out quietly.

“I know, I would’ve been so mad at myself if I stayed in Jersey,” she mumbled before she looked back towards him. Their eyes met and her body erupted in goosebumps. His blue eyes were soft and sleepy. “Couldn’t let Henry win again,”

Luke’s mouth fell open as he shook his head. “He hasn’t won a damn thing,”

“I mean he did shatter my heart,” she looked down towards her hands, twisting the ring on her finger.

“Shattering your heart is him losing. Why would anyone want to do that?” he said barely above a whisper. Lifting her gaze up, she met his eye; a soft smile formed onto her lips.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, a pout forming to her lips.

“He lost you and you get to be hot on a lake all summer. I’d say you’re winning,” he mumbled as leaned towards her. She giggled as she leaned towards him slightly too.

“Thanks Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smirked as he nodded. He tilted his head to look behind him to see the rest of the guys hanging in a circle and laughing; completely ignoring them. “You really think I’m hot?” she asked shyly.

His mouth fell open as a scoff fell from his lips, his eyes trailed her frame. “Are you fucking joking?” he let out while laughing. “Have you looked at yourself recently? I mean you’re literally the definition of beautiful,” his gaze dipped towards her lips for a second before he forced his gaze towards the sunset.

The music was so loud that their conversation was between them and only them. Except Trevor couldn’t help but notice them. He was smiling softly as he watched them meet each others gaze.

She pressed her lips together as she tried not to laugh. She tilted her head to the side as she fully met his gaze. A soft smile formed onto her lips, “I really needed to hear that,” she mumbled.

“Of course,” he let out as his gaze dipped towards the grin on her lips.

Cole smacked his hand against Trevor’s arm, pointing towards the pair. A snicker fell from Trevor’s lips as he forced his gaze elsewhere. Jack and Quinn were clueless.

~~~

The next few days were filled with the same day drinking and relaxing on the boat. Their evenings were filled with laying in the living room watching Grey’s Anatomy. The boys were all reluctantly watching it except Luke. He was equally interested especially after Addison was introduced.

Tonight was no different, except they were all in the basement hosting another pool tournament. She was sitting on a table as she was adding up the scores as she stared towards the giant chalkboard beside her.

“Quinn’s back in the lead,” she said as she smiled widely.

“Let’s fucking go!” he shouted as he raised his beer up in the air. Luke let out a loud groan as he walked towards Y/N and the chalkboard.

“No way, add it up again!” he begged as he walked up beside her, looking towards the scores. Luke delicately rested his hand on the table directly next to her thigh. Her gaze dropped down towards his hand, a mere inch from her skin. Quickly, she forced her gaze back up towards the chalkboard.

“I added it three times,” she whined out. He pouted his lips as he looked towards her, meeting her eye.

“Add it differently,” he mumbled, his gaze lowering to her lips.

“Luke,” she let out through a chuckle.

“Sorry Lukey, maybe next round,” Quinn said smuggly as he began to reset the pool table. Luke continued to scan her features for a few seconds before he stepped back.

“I don’t wanna play another round. Cole, wanna help me make a drink?” He looked towards Cole. Without hesitation Cole stood up and followed after Luke towards the stairs.

“Me neither, I wanna relish in this victory for the night,” Quinn said as he took another sip of his beer.

“‘Course you do, asshole,” Jack muttered as the both of the older Hughes boys plopped down on some beanbags. They all chuckled as Trevor started heading towards the stairs.

“Y/N, wanna a drink?” Trevor asked as he began to slowly climb up the stairs. She nodded as she hopped off of the table and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll come with you,” she mumbled as she skipped towards the steps.

Jack watched suspiciously as he shifted his gaze towards Quinn for a second. Quinn simply shrugged as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Cole and Luke were still in the kitchen once both Y/N and Trevor reached the top of the stairs.

“Do you really think that she–” Luke stopped talking instantly as he saw Y/N and Trevor side by side. A frown formed to his lips for a second before he quickly brought his cocktail to his lips. Luke shifted his gaze towards the floor.

“Want a mixed drink or a beer?” Trevor asked as he walked deeper into the kitchen.

“Any seltzers, Trev?” she asked softly.

“White Claw?” he asked as pulled the fridge open. She hummed as he tossed her the drink.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Luke mumbled before he chugged his drink and placed it into the sink. He met Y/N’s gaze before he climbed up the stairs towards his bedroom. Cole frowned slightly as he watched the youngest Hughes walk away.

Cole quickly followed after him, “Wait–” he called out as he jogged up the stairs.

She popped open the drink as Trevor pulled a beer out for himself. “Can I talk to you, Trev?” she asked softly. He nodded as he pointed towards the couch. They both sat down quite far apart but they both covered their laps in blankets. “I think you might be right,” she mumbled.

“About Lukey?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, “But I can’t tell if my feelings are because I’m still trying to get over Henry or if it’s because I’m ready to move on,” she mumbled.

“Well, if you’re even questioning it, I’m sure you’re ready to start something new,” Trevor expressed, glancing behind him.

“Jack would kill me,” she let out barely above a whisper, “I mean, it’s his little brother.”

“Yeah but it’s not like he’s a kid, you’re barely two years older than him,” Trevor explained. “I think Jack would be pissed at first but get over it if it means you two are happy,” Trevor brought his beer towards his lips.

She stared down towards the can in her hand, she began bending the tab back and forth. “But it’s Lukey,” she muttered as she met Trevor’s gaze. “Little Hughesy,”

“I don’t know when he became something other than Lukey, but I am worried this is gonna fuck everything up,” she mumbled before she pulled her knees towards her chest.

“He stopped being Lukey the second he got taller than Quinn,” he let out jokingly. “And got abs, which you seem to enjoy,”

“Trevor,” she scolded while laughing.

He took a deep breath, “If your worried you’ll fuck everything up, just hang out with him more and see if your feelings are real. You know push boundaries a little,”

“Push the boundaries, okay,” she muttered as she nodded slightly.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket as she pulled it out instantly.

Luke: Wanna watch Grey’s in my room in ten?

Her heart began to beat heavily against her chest as she read the message. A small smile formed to her lips as she whipped her phone around to show Trevor. He smirked as he nodded.

“Nice,” he said while chuckling.

“What does this mean?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“I think it means he’s wondering if you want to go watch Grey’s Anatomy in his room in ten minutes,” Trevor said sarcastically.

She leaned towards him, shoving him before she stood up from the couch. “You’re such a dick, Trev,” she said as she walked away from him while laughing. He tossed his head back and laughed. She walked towards the kitchen as she sent back a reply to Luke saying she’ll be there soon.

He sent back a smiley face. Lifting her gaze, she saw a glimpse of Cole and Trevor both heading down towards the basement. She knew that Trevor would find an excuse as to why neither of them were back in the basement.

She finished her drink in a few minutes before she headed towards the stairs towards his room, her heart slamming against her chest hard. She awkwardly raised her hand up and knocked. After a few seconds, Luke pulled the door open a wide grin on his lips.

“Come on, I need to find out if Denny lives,” he said as he waved his hand towards her. She chuckled as she stepped inside of his surprisingly clean room. He shut the door behind her, twisting the lock in the process.

Without hesistation, she laid down on his bed, climbing under the blanket. He took a fast step towards her, leaping over her to lay on the other side of her. He plopped down beside her climbing under the covers.

He shifted his gaze towards her, running his fingers through his hair. Tilting her head to the side, she met his eye. She fought the smile forming to her lips.

“Your face better not reveal anything, no smirk, no smile. No tears, okay?” he asked teasingly. Her lips curled upward in a grin. “I said no smile, it’s a nice smile, but I said no smile,” he let out.

Her mouth gaped open slightly before she forced her gaze towards the TV screen in front of them. “Just get ready,” she muttered.

“No talking,” he let out while laughing, she shifted her head to the side to meet his eye again.

“No talking?”

“No talking if you’re gonna say stuff like that,” he said as he reached his hand over to take a hold of the TV remote. “No spoilers,” he said pointing a finger towards her. Her mouth fell open as she pushed his finger away. A giggle falling from her lips. “No spoilers,” he let out softer as his gaze lingered onto her lips.

“Got it,” she mumbled as she felt her cheeks begin to blush as her skin ran hot. He inched towards her, staring at her lips. Suddenly, she felt herself leaning towards him. Wanting to kiss him, craving his lips. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

After a few seconds, she pulled back. “Luke,” she mumbled.

“Yeah?” he let out softly as he leaned away too.

“We can’t,” she mumbled. He clenched his jaw as his head was still tilted to the side, scanning her features.

“Can’t what?” he asked softly.

“You’re looking at me,” she mumbled, “You can’t look at me.”

“I can’t look at you?” he asked softly, his gaze lowered towards her lips again. His gaze flickered up towards her eyes again and she shook her head slightly.

“Stop looking at me like that,”

“Why?” he muttered as he inched towards her again. Instead of pulling away, she found herself staring at his lips again. “Because of Jack?” he mumbled.

It took a few seconds to reply, “Yes,” she said as she shook her head again. Luke took a deep breath as he scanned her features one more time before he forced his gaze towards the TV. He began to pull up Netflix. “Luke,” she mumbled.

“Let’s just watch the show,” he mumbled as he tilted his head back against the headboard. Taking in a deep breath she forced her gaze towards the screen.

“Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper. He tilted his head to the side, meeting her eye again. “I’m sorry,”

He reached his hand over and delicately rested it against her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked deeply into his eyes. He ran his thumb across her cheek as she leaned into his hand.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean into him and kiss him desperately. Feel his lips on hers and feel his hands roam her body. It was all that she has wanted over the last few weeks. Maybe months.

Still, she couldn’t tell if it was mere attraction or if she was falling for him. She made a promise to Jack and she needed to keep that promise. Off limits.

“I’m gonna cry a lot this episode aren’t I?” he mumbled before he reluctantly pulled his hand back to his side.

A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she looked back towards the screen as he did the same. “I’m not allowed to talk, remember? That was your rule,” she teased.

“Right, right. My rule,”

~~~

A week later, Luke and Y/N were getting closer and closer to reaching something. Her feelings for him were definitely more and more prominent. It finally was hitting her that her feelings weren’t mere attraction but she was falling for him. She was sure that Jack could tell. She knew that Trevor was doing his best to keep it a secret.

She was standing in the kitchen, making dinner for all of the boys. They were all hanging on the boat despite it being docked. She peeked out of the window as she stirred the stirfry in the giant pan. She saw Luke walking up towards the house. Her lips curled upward slightly as she waited for him.

He stepped inside, “I was sent to see when dinner will be done,” he let out as he leaned against the wall, leaning his head against it. She smiled towards him as she took in a sharp breath.

“Few minutes,” she mumbled. He nodded as he pursed his lips forward, “Anything else?” she asked softly. He smirked as he shook his head slowly. “You sure?”

He took another step towards her, his gaze lingering on her frame. Her body was only covered by the lime green bikini and the white coverall.

“Are you drunk?” she asked as she admired the bright red blush on his cheeks. He raised his hand up and shook it side to side. Tilting her head to the side, she fought the grin forming to her lips. “Go before you do something you’ll regret,” she muttered as she pushed him back slightly.

He chuckled as he took in a deep breath. He reluctantly stepped away, “That’s an amazing color on you,” he mumbled.

“Luke,” she sing-songed.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he mumbled before he stepped back outside and jogged down the steps towards the boat. Every so often, he would glance behind him towards the house.

A small pout fell to her lips as she continued making the dinner. Taking in a deep breath, her heart slowly started to slow down with him gone.

It took another few minutes before she turned the stove off. She walked towards the door, pushing it open as she stepped out. “Dinner’s done,” she called out before she instantly went back into the house to make her own plate.

The boys instantly started jumping off of the boat and jogging towards the house. Luke was the last one to enter the house. All of the boys were distracted by getting their plates and finding a place to sit and eat. Luke entered the house, his gaze lingering on her frame. He pursed his lips forward as he took steps towards the stove to make his own plate.

“We haven’t been to the club in like a week, should we go tonight?” Trevor asked before he shoved some food into his mouth. Luke whipped his head around to look towards Y/N. She was already looking in his direction. Trevor glanced towards Y/N for a second before he shifted his gaze towards Cole.

“I mean, I’m down to be sober if you guys want to go,” Cole offered quickly. Luke shifted his gaze towards Cole and nodded slightly.

“I’m gonna need a nap before we go to any–” Jack said before he began mimicking EDM music. Y/N laughed before she brought her seltzer towards her lips. “But yeah, I’m down,” he agreed.

It took several more hours before any of them were ready to head out. The guys were once again all waiting for her to be ready. She was tipsy as she was finishing getting ready. She was wearing the skin tight dress she didn’t wear last time they went out. She stood in front of the mirror, making sure that everything would stay in place.

Once she was satisfied with how the outfit looked she left her room, chugging the remainder of her drink. Entering the living room, the boys fell silent as they were all admiring her frame.

“What did I say about staring?” she said simply as she walked towards the tequila bottle on the dining table. A few of the guys cleared their throats and began their conversation once again.

On the other hand, Luke was still admiring her frame. The dress fit her tightly to the point that every single curve of her body was amplified. He leaned forward as he dragged his hand across from his nose as he continued to stare towards her.

Jack was laughing at something Cole said when he shifted his gaze towards his younger brother. His smile faded slightly as he saw the way Luke was admiring Y/N from a far. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw Luke smile softly as Y/N spun around. Jack clenched his jaw before he brought his beer towards his lips, finishing the drink in only a few sips.

He watched as Luke and Y/N eyes connected. The smile on her lips was small but it looked like it was reserved for Luke.

“Uber’s almost here,” he muttered as he stood up from the couch and headed towards the dining table where Y/N was standing. Once he reached the table, he took a hold of the vodka bottle and brought it towards his lips. He drank directly from the bottle for a few seconds before he placed it back down.

Everyone looked towards him in horror. “Was thirsty,” he forced out, sounding like fire was running up and down his throat. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see the Uber was at the house. “Gotta go,” he muttered, still fighting from the alcohol. Everyone nodded awkwardly as they stood up and began to head towards the door towards the Uber.

“Are you okay?” she asked him as the rest of the guys left the house.

“Are you fucking Luke?” he asked harshly, looking deeply into her eyes.

“What?” the word fell out barely above a whisper.

“Are you fucking my little brother?” he asked as he got closer to her face. Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“No,” she mumbled as she looked into his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, I’m not blind. I see you guys disappear all of the time,” he said as he continued to scan her features, for the truth.

“We’re just hanging out, Jack, I swear,” she let out as she stepped away from him. He clenched his jaw as he tilted it to the side.

“We used to do that, what happened to that?” he questioned. She dryly chuckled as she shook her head.

“Are you seriously jealous of Luke?” she asked somewhat harshly. His mouth fell open for a second before he clamped it shut.

“I’m not jealous of Luke,” he said simply.

“Then why won’t you believe me that we’re just hanging out?” she threw her hands to the side. At first Jack didn’t reply. He stared towards her, frowning slightly. “Jack!?”

“Because have you seen the way he looks at you?!” he yelled out. “I mean even all the way back to April, this kid is in love with you and I don’t need you breaking his heart!” he explained loudly.

Pulling her head back, she blinked slowly as she took in a shaky breath. Her gaze lowered towards the floor. Pressing her lips together, she nodded. “You’re my best friend Jack. I won’t let anything change that,” she muttered before she tilted her head back, blinking back the sudden wave of tears hitting her eyes.

“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper.

“They’re waiting on us,” she said as she pulled the door opened and stormed out. She stomped down the steps as she walked towards the Uber seeing Trevor sitting in the front passenger seat.

She walked up towards the door, pulling it open.

“Woah, occupied,” he said while raising his hands up.

“Get out, I’m not sitting next to Jack,” she said simply. Jack started walking down the steps slowly.

“Sit next to–”

“Trev,” she let out simply as she met his eye. It took him a second before he understood what was happening. He nodded as he unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out of the seat. Delicately resting his hand on the center of her back for a moment before she climbed into the passenger seat. Trevor opened the back door, shrugging slightly as he climbed over Luke towards the backseat.

Jack was quick to climb over Luke as well as sit beside Trevor and Quinn in the furthest backseat. Luke tilted his head back, meeting Jack’s gaze, mouthing, “Are you guys okay?”

Jack shook his head as he tilted his head back against the headrest. The Uber took off towards the club, awkwardly turning the music up in the process. The drive didn’t take long and they were quick to all climb out. Y/N didn’t wait for anyone before she started heading directly towards the entrance. It looked as though flames were practically coming out of her body as she stormed away.

Jack stood outside of the car staring towards her walk into the club. “What did you do to piss her off?” Quinn asked as he smacked his hand against Jack’s upper back. Jack glanced towards Luke; who was walking towards the club entrance with Cole beside him. Trevor was awkwardly glancing between Luke and Jack.

“I accused her of leading Lukey on,” he said while meeting Quinn’s gaze. Jack watched Quinn’s eyes go wide.

“What, like, Luke has feelings for her or something?” Quinn questioned. Trevor’s eyes widened as he swallowed hard. Watching Luke and Cole enter the club no problem.

“More like I think she has feelings for him and I basically called her a slut, so that’s why she’s–” he stopped talking as he tossed his hands to the side.

“You called her a slut?” Quinn asked flabbergasted.

“No! No, I told her that I don’t want to see Luke’s heart get broken,” he mumbled as the three of them all started walking towards the entrance to the club.

“Like that’s the only option if they get together? They could be happy, you know,” Trevor expressed as he pulled out his ID from his wallet. Ever since the first night at the club, he’s been rooting for them like crazy.

“They’re not getting together,” Jack said as he flashed his ID towards the bouncer. He nodded allowing the guys to enter the club.

“Why do you care so much?” Trevor asked as he began walking backwards to meet Jack’s gaze.

“Because I don’t want to lose my best friend. If they break up, I’m choosing my little brother,” he explained as they started walking deeper into the club. It was starting to get too loud to talk without shouting into each others ears. Jack shifted his gaze to see both Luke and Y/N standing at the bar waiting for their drinks.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked as he leaned towards her, his lips brushing against her ear. He pulled back, trying to meet her eye but her gaze remained ahead. His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned towards her to ask it again; instead their shots were placed in front of them.

Without hesitation, she brought the shot of tequila to her lips and threw it back. She placed the glass upside down. Luke’s eyes widened slightly before he took the small glass and took the shot himself. He swallowed it with much difficulty, his entire body reacting as he placed the glass upside down.

She took a hold of his shirt and began dragging him into the club. Luke smirked as he followed along. But instead of stopping at the center of the dance floor she kept going. She kept dragging him, shoving through several groups of people in the process. Luke was shouting, asking where they were going but she was determined to take him somewhere private.

They reached a secluded hallway, probably for the bathrooms. The music was still loud but was much quieter in that section. She pushed him against the wall before she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You have to stop!” she shouted, finally meeting his gaze. He pulled his head back, frowning. “We can’t do this anymore,” she let out as she continued to scan his features.

“We’re not doing anything!” he let out while shaking his head. His eyes softened.

“The flirting! The looking at me! It has to stop, okay we can’t do this!” she said as she dropped her gaze towards the floor.

“Why?” he let out, taking a hold of her arm delicately.

“Because Jack knows and we haven’t even done anything yet! So we have to stop!”

He shook his head as he clenched his jaw repeatedly. “Why does Jack get more say than me?”

Her mouth opened and shut as her heart was pounding so hard against her chest, it was nearly louder than the music. She looked deeply into his blue eyes. The blue light from the club was over his skin, making his blue eyes look dark.

“He’s my best friend, okay? Jack, Quinn, Trev, Cole, you.” her voice faded slightly as she dropped her gaze towards his chest, “You guys are all I have okay?! So if us getting involved makes me lose all of that, then I can’t. I can’t do that,” she said while holding back her tears that were trying to form in her eyes.

He nodded as he admired her features. Her eyes were teary as she was staring towards his chest, the top two buttons were unbutton, revealing his collar bones and some of his chest muscles. She was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. He’s thought that his whole life. No one ever compared to her and no one will ever compare because she was everything.

He loved the way her lips would curl up slightly any time he said something dumb. Or the way she danced slightly while cooking; even if there was no music. Or the way her love language was touch, even as kids. She was always the first to initiate a hug or rest her head onto his shoulder.

She was always the center of attention, loved having eyes on her. But right now, all he’s wanted was to be the only guy that gets to look at her the way he is now. Like she is all that matters.

They were close but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, unsure if she could stop herself if she did.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what it’s like to kiss me,” he said softly.

Lifting her gaze up, she met his eye. “Do you really think that I would be doing this if I could stop thinking about it? We can’t,” she said as she forced herself back. Their eyes were still connected before she began to walk away from him.

“Y/N,” he called out.

She spun around, meeting his eye again, “Luke, we can’t,” she said while shaking her head.

He reached towards her, taking a hold of her waist as he pushed her against the wall. Her eyes widened slightly as she rested her hands onto his chest for stability. “Luke,” she mumbled.

“If you can’t stop thinking about it, then kiss me,” he whispered as he leaned down against her ear. He pulled back, taking a delicately hold of her chin. Scanning her features, his gaze admiring her lips.

“Luke,”

“If you can’t stop, then kiss me,” he whispered again as he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. Her breathing quickened as she swallowed hard. Her hands were still pressed against her chest.

He was so close that if she breathed differently, their lips would connect. She was desperate to feel his lips against hers. Her hands gripped his shirt for a moment as she continued to look into his eyes.

“Kiss me,” he mumbled. Her gaze flickered back down towards his lips.

After another second, she reached up and took a hold of his cheeks. Pulling him towards her, their lips connected instantly and desperately. His hands glided along her hips and rested on her lower back.

He pulled her tightly against his body. Her hands glided from his cheeks towards the base of his neck. Her entire body erupted in flames. It was as if every ounce of tension in her body faded as she continued to kiss him.

Her fingers began to glid through his hair as a breathy moan fell from her lips. Everything was perfect, everything was right in this moment; his body pressed against hers and their lips connected.

There was a passing second that she thought that this would be okay. Jack would get over it and her and Luke could be happy together. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing else other than Luke.

Slowly, she pulled away. Her fingers tugged at the ends of his hair. His nose bumped against hers, as he leaned towards her desperate for her lips again. Their lips connected again as a moan fell from her lips.

His hands lowered on her frame gliding along the curve of her ass as he reached for her thighs. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she leaped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands were gripping her thighs tightly.

Several minutes past as they were in their own little world, not caring who could be watching. All she needed was him, that’s all she knew.

“Luke,” she mumbled against his lips. He hummed against her lips, sending a vibration to course through her body. Tilting her head back, he leaned towards her desperate for her lips again. “Wait-” she said through a giggle. He smirked as he reluctantly tilted his head back. He tilted his head to the side as his gaze was on her lips.

They were both breathing heavy, her hands glided from his hair towards his cheeks. “We can’t,” she mumbled as she dragged her thumb across his cheeks. He clenched his jaw as he met her gaze.

He slowly put her back down, his hands glided up the same path they took before. Her hands glided from his cheek down his chest. Adjusting her dress on her frame, he soon rested his hands onto her lower back. He leaned towards her, kissing her softly.

“I know,” he mumbled against her lips as she slowly slipped away from him.

He didn’t stop her as she began walking deeper into the night club. He stood in the secluded hallway, watching her slip away into the crowd. He clenched his jaw before he took a deep breath. He dragged his hand across his nose before he dropped his gaze towards his feet.

He needed another drink. He needed many drinks.

~~~

Tensions were high for the next few days after that. She was considering on leaving because Jack wouldn’t talk to her and she was avoiding Luke the entire time. She stayed in her room for an entire day, claiming to be violently hungover. Which was not entirely wrong because she was in fact, violently hungover.

She was laying in bed, staring towards the screen. She was debating on what to watch. She clicked on Grey’s Anatomy, since that’s what she’s been watching this summer. It felt wrong without Luke.

Almost on cue, there was a loud knock on her door. She muttered a come in as she rolled over to see who was walking into her room. Luke stepped inside, quickly twisting the lock behind him.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly. He took a deep breath as he sat down on the mattress.

“I should be asking you the same question because what is that?” he let out as he pointed behind him towards the TV. She smirked as she shook her head slightly.

“What are you doing, Luke?” she asked as she scanned his features. He smiled softly as he rested his hand beside her thigh.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled as he pursed his lips forward, “And the other guys all went out with some girls they met the other night. So here I am,”

Her eyes widened, “You missed me?” she asked teasingly.

“Well, you’ve been hiding in your room for days so, yes I’ve missed you,” he explained as he leaned towards her.

“I haven’t been hiding,” she mumbled as she scanned his features.

“Oh really, what have you been doing?” he asked as he tilted his head to the side.

“Enjoying some peace and quiet,” she mumbled, “And some Grey’s,” she felt her chest get heavy as she continued to look into his eyes. “They left us alone? I can’t believe it,” she said sarcastically.

He chuckled as he climbed over her, laying beside her. “I think Jack’s exact words were ‘try not to have sex while we’re gone’,” Luke said jokingly.

“Well, he won’t have to worry about that,” she muttered as she pressed play on the TV. He chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And how are you so confident about that?” he mumbled as he tilted his head to the side. He met her gaze, a smirk on his lips.

“Because–” she trailed off as her gaze lowered towards his lips, “Stop looking at me,” she said while fighting off a grin. He chuckled as he inched towards her. “Luke,” she mumbled.

“I can’t stop,” he mumbled as he reached his hand over and took a hold of her cheek. He pulled her towards him as he kissed her desperately. A gasp left her lips before she began to deepen the kiss. The tension in her body faded as she tossed the blanket from her frame.

She thought about it for a second before she slowly climbed onto his lap. He took a hold of her thigh as he helped her. Her hands landed on the base of his neck as she began to twist the small curls. His hands were delicately running along the exposed skin of her thighs.

After several minutes she finally mumbled out, “We’re not having sex,” against his lips between kisses. Luke let out a soft chuckle.

“Okay,” he mumbled, a small smile forming to his lips. He tilted his head back against the headboard as he admired her features.

“This is why I was hiding,” she mumbled as she scanned his features. She ran her thumbs across his pinked cheeks.

Leaning towards her, he pecked her lips. “Thought you weren’t hiding,” he teased. Her lips fell into a pout as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He raised his hand up and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she mumbled as she looked into his eyes.

“But you want to,”

“Luke,” she said as she tilted her head to the side. She wanted to say more but every thought she had disappeared as she leaned towards him, kissing him desperately again. His hand glided to the base of her neck.

“Y/N,”

“Can we not talk?” she mumbled and he nodded before he pressed his lips against hers.

~~~

She was pacing back and forth in the hallway in front of Trevor’s room. She had to tell someone because she can’t spend the remainder of her time at the lakehouse stuck in her room. Someone had to know because she spent majority of her night last time making out with Luke and she was feeling guilty.

Guilty because she hated that she was doing it behind Jack’s back but it was perfect. Luke’s perfect and she was tired of pretending he wasn’t.

A gasp left her lips as Trevor stepped out of the room. “Oh my god!” he shouted as he stepped back placing his hand against his chest. She jumped back. “What are you doing?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked quietly. He nodded suspiciously as he pointed behind him. “Great, thanks,” she muttered as she walked into his room. He laughed as he shut the door.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked somewhat teasingly as he sat down on his bed. She began to pace back and forth in front of his bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to watch her back and forth.

She took a deep breath as she stopped short and met Trevor’s gaze. “I need you to be a girl right now, this conversation won’t work if you react how you normally do,” she explained while looking into his eyes urgently. He nodded slowly.

“I can be a girl,” he said confidently.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, “The other night at the club, I made out Luke,” she explained.

He chuckled and raised his hand up, “Nice!” he said. Her eyes widened while shaking her head. He cleared his throat and lowered his hand, “Right, be a girl, right,” he nodded before he began to talk again with a higher pitched voice, “Oh my god, that’s amazing. What was it like?”

“Trevor, come on,” she whined out.

“Seriously! What was that like!?” he asked, his voice back to normal.

“It was amazing but it can’t be amazing because Jack would never speak to me again if he found out,”

“That’s not true,” Trevor said.

“It is true because I did it again last night,” she said shyly. Trevor’s eyes widened as a grin formed to his lips.

“Please high five me,” he said while holding his hand up again. Clenching her jaw, she reluctantly high fived him.

She sat down beside Trevor, criss crossing her legs. Pressing her lips together, she took a deep breath. “I’ve never been kissed like that before,” she mumbled. Trevor smile softened as he met her gaze.

“I gotta ask,” his voice was quiet as he glanced towards his bedroom door, “This doesn’t seem like it just started this summer,” he shyly looked back towards her.

“We hung out a lot while Jack was in the playoffs,” she said simply as she pursed her lips forward.

“I was heartbroken and lonely. Luke didn’t know anyone else out here and was lonely too. I don’t know when it happened but he stopped being Jack’s little brother and Little Hughesy and he was just Luke,” she expressed.

“So you’ve had feelings for him for a while then?” Trevor questioned, squinting his eyes slightly.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” she forced out as she tapped her fingertips against her calves. He nodded while he tried to meet her eye. “I just like being around him,” she mumbled.

“You also like kissing him apparently,” Trevor teased. Her mouth fall open as she pushed him. He fell onto his elbows while chuckling.

“Yeah I do,” she let out softly, “He’s really good at it,” she continued.

Trevor fell onto his back while laughing. He covered his face with his hands, “That’s the line! I didn’t need to know that,” he muffled out through his hands. She tilted her head back laughing.

“Do you really think Jack can get over this, if Luke and I get together?” she asked, switching the tone to serious quickly.

Trevor pulled his hands away from his face as he slowly sat up. He dragged his hand across from his chin as he swallowed hard. “I think he would be pissed longer if you two keep hiding it from him. You also should figure out what is going on with Luke before you tell Jack anything,”

She nodded as she stared towards her lap, taking everything in. “Okay, yeah–figure out what’s going on first,” she repeated as she kept her gaze towards her lap. Trevor stared towards her, pursing his lips forward.

“You clearly have feelings for him, so just tell him that,”

“I think he already knows,”

“You think?”

“Yes, I mean I think it’s obvious,” she muttered.

Trevor threw his head back laughing. “He’s a Hughes, they can’t pick up on clues if they were written in a giant billboard,” Trevor explained. Her mouth fell open as she rolled her eyes playfully.

“I mean I told him that I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I think that’s obvious enough,” she said while laughing. Trevor’s lips fell into a pout as he tilted his head to the side. “Stop,” she whined as she pushed him back again.

“Go talk to him,” he said while delicately pushing her off of the bed. She stood up and took a deep breath as she walked towards the door.

“Wish me luck,” she muttered before she snuck out of the room.

Shutting the door behind her, her legs suddenly felt heavy as she started walking towards her room. Y/N pulled her phone from her pocket to text Luke to meet her in her room. Lifting her gaze, she saw Luke walking towards her.

Her eyes widened as her heart began to pound hard against her chest.

“The pizza place doesn’t deliver so Jack and Quinn went to go pick it up,” he explained as his eyes trailed her frame for a moment.

“Perfect because we need to talk,” she said simply as she turned towards her room, she opened the door and slipped inside. Quickly, Luke followed her inside; a soft grin on his lips in the process.

“Yeah?” he asked softly as he shut the door behind him, twisting the lock in the process. Slowly, she turned around to meet his eye as her lips fell into a pout. His eyes widened as he rested his hands onto her hips. She lifted her gaze as she looked into his eye. “What’s going on?” he asked while scanning her features.

“I hate this,” she mumbled as her voice broke. His eyebrows furrowed harshly as he panickly looked over her features.

“What?” he asked barely above a whisper.

She swallowed hard before she practically leaped towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him urgently. He wrapped his arms around her lower back as he kissed her back hesitantly. He slowly stumbled towards her bed.

Her legs hit the mattress. He slowly loosened his grip around her body, she returned to her feet as their lips were still connected.

Her fingers ran through his hair as she slowly moved her hands against his cheeks. She ran her thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the heat radiate from them. His hands were on her lower back, pulling her towards him hesitantly.

“I’m getting mixed signals here,” he mumbled against her lips. Slowly, she pecked his lips one more time before she slowly pulled away from him. She met his blue eyes for a second as she sat down on the bed. Looking up towards him, her lips fell into a pout again.

He sat down beside her, wrapping his hand around her waist. His fingertips were delicately tapping against her hip. Tilting her head to the side, she met his gaze. She took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” she mumbled. He scanned her features, waiting for her to continue. “I want this. I want you and I hate that I do because you are the one person I shouldn’t want. I hate that I am sad when you’re not around. I hate that I haven’t stopped thinking about you and I think–I think you haven’t stopped thinking about me too,”

“I haven’t,” he let out.

She looked deeply into his eyes, nodding slightly as her lips curled upward for a moment. “Is this just physical or is this something else? Because I can’t tell and I don’t know if it’s because of my trust issues or what el–”

He reached his hand over as he took a hold of her cheek. He dragged his thumb across her skin for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into his eyes. “I want you, I want everything,” he expressed as he leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers delicately. “I need you,” he mumbled against her lips.

Reluctantly, she pulled back to meet his gaze. “Really?” she asked barely above a whisper. He hummed and she smiled softly. “Okay,”

“Okay?” he questioned as he raised his eyebrows. She nodded as her smile widened. He giggled softly before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. A giggle fell from her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She fell onto her back as he was still holding her tightly against his chest.

He lifted his head up from the crook of her neck as he leaned down and kissed her urgently. She hummed against his lips as her fingers began to run through his curls. They slowly adjusted their position, she was laying completely on the bed as he was on top of her. Their lips not separating for a single second.

In that moment, everything was perfect. His lips on hers as her hands were roaming his body. They were together and everything was the way it should’ve been.

He pulled his lips away from hers as he began to trail his lips along her jawline. He lowered them down her neck taking a moment to glide his hand up her shirt. Delicately running his fingertips along the side of her waist.

A hushed moan fell from her lips as he trailed his lips back up towards her lips. He pressed them against hers sensually as his hand hiked up her shirt slightly on her frame.

Arching her back into him, she allowed him to begin to pull the shirt from her frame. Instead, he smirked as he climbed down her frame, pressing wet kisses against her stomach. She took a hold of the ends of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Tossing it to the floor, she glanced down towards Luke.

She grinned as she tilted her head back. He hummed against her skin, sending electricity all over her body. A sudden gasp fell from her lips as she stared towards the ceiling. He pulled his lips away from her frame as he sat back, tugging his shirt from his body. He tossed it to the floor.

Her eyes lowered towards his abs and he smirked slightly as he climbed back on top of her. “What?” he asked innocently. She shook her head as she pursed her lips forward. She slowly ran her finger tips down his chest, tracing each line of his muscles. Her eyes widened slightly as she watched his body tense under her touch.

“Very nice,” she mumbled as she lifted her gaze back up meeting his eye.

“Yeah?” he asked teasingly as he leaned down and kissed her delicately. “Yeah?” he asked again against her lips. She hummed as she raised her hands up and began to run her fingers through his hair.

There were loud knocks against her door and Luke quickly fell away from her. “Jack and Quinn just pulled into the driveway. You better get yourselves together!” Trevor shouted from outside the door. Luke stared towards the ceiling breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she jumped off of her bed as she leaned down to take a hold of her shirt. Luke slowly stood up from the bed, reaching for his shirt as well. “You can’t say anything until I talk to Jack,” she let out as her breathing started to quicken. “You promise?”

He nodded as he walked around the bed quickly. He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. He rested his hands onto her waist, “I promise,” he said as he pulled away. She walked away from him as she took a deep breath.

Unlocking the door, she pulled it open to see Trevor standing there. He had a grin on his lips as he had his hand up for another high five.

Rolling her eyes she walked past him, “I am not high fiving you again,” she let out while laughing as she continued down the hall. Her hands were running through her hair and fanning her face; trying to pretend she wasn’t all flustered. She met Cole’s gaze as she walked towards the couch. He smiled softly towards her before he looked back down towards his phone.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Lukey, this is awesome!” he said excitedly in a hushed tone. Luke glanced down the hall towards Y/N but she was already in the living room. A smirk formed on his lips as he high fived Trevor.

“Can’t talk about it until she speaks with Jack, alright?” Luke whispered. Trevor nodded quickly as he pointed towards the hallway. They began to walk side by side as they heard the door being pushed open.

Quinn was carrying two boxes and so was Jack. “Where’s my tip?” Jack said happily as he strutted inside the house. Quinn shook his head while following Jack.

“I fucking drove, dude,” Quinn said while laughing. Jack didn’t respond as he rested the pizza boxes onto the counter. Quinn placed his boxes on top of Jack’s. Luke looked towards Y/N as she was staring towards her lap, she was tapping her fingertips against the top of her thigh. Luke took in a deep breath as he walked towards the kitchen with the other boys.

They all began to take slices of pizza and placing them onto their plates. After a few seconds, they all walked away and headed towards the living room. Luke took a few slices and placed it onto a plate and he walked towards the living room. He walked directly up to Y/N and handed her the plate. Looking up towards him, a soft smile formed to her lips.

“Thanks,” she said softly. He nodded before he walked back towards the kitchen to make his own. Jack glanced towards the pair, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He pursed his lips forward as he tilted his head back slightly.

Y/N shifted her gaze towards Jack just when he was looking towards her too. He nodded slightly before he happily bit into his food again. She took a deep breath as she bit into her food.

~~~

The following morning she was waiting for Jack to emerged onto the main level of the house. She was sitting in the living room a coffee mug in her hand as she was scrolling through her Tiktok.

This was the first time in months that she’s felt this happy, maybe in years. Her entire body was physically more relaxed. Every ounce of tension in her body was gone. Well maybe not every ounce. She was still so nervous to tell Jack. But something about last night told her that maybe it would be okay.

She heard steps from the stairs and she lifted her gaze to see Luke walking downstairs. He was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Y/N smiled softly as she watched him climb down the steps. Luke pulled his hands away from his eyes. He grinned widely as he saw her on the couch.

“Good morning gorgeous,” he said as his voice rasped. He walked towards her while looking into her eyes.

“Morning,” she muttered before she took a sip of her coffee. He stood behind her looking down towards her. She tilted her head back as he leaned down towards her delicately pressing his lips against hers.

He pulled away, “Are you talking to Jack today?” he asked softly. She nodded slowly, “Good because I might have already told Quinn,” her eyes widened, “He’s on board, he’s cool,” he reassured before he pecked her lips. She chuckled as he leaned back.

“I am going to talk to him this morning,” she said as she took a shaky breath. Luke hummed as he walked towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.

After a few more minutes, it seemed like all of the boys woke up at the same time and walked down towards the main level. Quinn walked down the steps smirking towards Y/N as he stifled a chuckle. She pursed her lips forward as she looked back down towards her lap.

Slowly, she stood up from the couch. “Uh–Jack?” she let out. He lifted his gaze from his phone, meeting her eye. “Can you come with me, we’re out of tequila an–and other alcohol,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, sure,” he said as he stood up. The other boys shared glances as she walked towards the door. She took a hold of her purse that was on the side table. She took a hold of the keys inside of the bowl. Jack met Luke’s gaze for a moment before he followed Y/N out of the lakehouse.

It took a few minutes before she pulled out of the driveway. Her entire body felt weak but she needed to tell him. She couldn’t move forward with Luke if she didn’t tell Jack.

Jack was in the passenger seat, trying to find a playlist to play. He decided on his country playlist, the playlist he would usually pick. He leaned over and turned up the music.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as she took a left instead of a right. “The liquor store is that way,” he said pointing behind him.

“I’m going to talk and you are going to listen,” she said simply, “Which is why I am taking the long way,” she explained.

“Okay,” he said suspiciously.

“I think,” she paused as she tapped her finger nervously against the steering wheel. “I think you think that I’m leading Luke on,” she started. Jack sat up straighter, staring towards her side profile. “Or that this is a summer fling but I–” she paused again as she pulled up to a red light.

Y/N looked towards Jack and he was listening intently.

“I have feelings for Luke,” she let out slowly as she met his gaze. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest as his face didn’t change.

“I think I’ve had them for a while but I am not sure because everything with Henry messed me up really badly. And he was there which is not your fault you were busy in the playoffs and–” she paused as he pointed ahead of him. She took a deep breath as she started driving ahead.

“I was lonely and he was lonely; and I loved spending time with him. But I didn’t think it was feelings until we danced together while we were extremely drunk.” she paused as she took a sudden breath. “I tried to stop my feelings, I shoved them down and I kept my distance but he is impossible to stay away from because he is charming. He is cute and a great kisser.” she explained rushly.

Her mouth fell open as a wave of nausea coursed through her body.

“I mean it was only a few times but now I think we’re serious like possibly he might be my boyfriend. We didn’t put a label on it. But I wanted to tell you so badly because you are my best friend and he’s your little brother; and I know how protective you are over him and I won’t hurt him. I’ll never hurt him or–or you,” she explained.

For the first time in possibly minutes, there was a silence. Jack’s lips curled upward as a chuckle fell from his lips. “Can I talk now?” he asked slowly. She nodded dramatically as she kept her gaze straight ahead, even though she was at a red light.

“I’m not blind, you know,” he began, “I think I knew that you and him had feelings for each other when I was getting my ass handed to me in Raleigh. Any time I called Luke, you two were together hanging out. I just thought that he was cheering you up but I think you two were falling in love.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she kept her gaze ahead. He chuckled.

“These lakehouse trips are the only times I see all of my favorite people in one place. I was watching my little brother take my best friend and I was mad. So I yelled at you,” his voice got quiet, “I’m really sorry. But if Lukey makes you happy and you make him happy. I think I can be happy too,” he explained. Her lips curled upward as she pulled into the parking lot. “But I’ve got rules,” he began.

“Okay,” she said while laughing.

“First rule,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t want to see it. Hands, mouth, keep them to yourself. Second rule, I share custody of both of you. I get time with Lukey and I get time with you. Third rule. When it’s all three of us, I’m not the third wheel; there better be no evidence that ya’ll are together. Fourth rule–”

“Four rules! Are you kidding!?” she said while laughing. He smirked while rolling his eyes.

“Fourth rule,” he let out slowly, “I don’t want details. That thing about my little brother being a good kisser, I didn’t need to know that information. We’re best friends but I don’t need to know,” he explained.

She tilted her head back and laughed. After a few seconds, she unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted her body to face him. Leaning her head against the headrest she met Jack’s gaze. Her eyes softened.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked barely above a whisper.

He nodded, “I’ve never seen my little brother so happy and just so happens, I’ve never seen my best friend so happy. So yeah, I’m okay with this,”

They both returned to the house, carrying several bags of alcohol. They were smiling and laughing as they stepped inside. “Our alcohol!” Cole cheered as he stood up and jogged towards the door. He took a hold of a few of the bags to lighten Y/N’s load. Luke lifted his gaze, a hopeful smile on his lips as he met Jack’s gaze.

Jack didn’t change his face as he continued walking towards the kitchen with his bags. Luke’s face fell as he lowered his gaze towards his lap.

“We nearly cleared all the shelves,” Y/N joked as she placed her bags onto the countertop while Cole and Jack placed theirs on the dining table.

“Almost but we are drinking all day today, okay. Get some shots in your bodies now,” Jack teased as he walked towards the living room. Luke stared blankly ahead his heart slamming against his chest. Y/N stood by the dining table, looking towards Luke expectantly.

Luke watched as Jack walked towards him. Jack smiled softly as he patted his hand against Luke’s shoulder, “Your girl’s waiting on you, come on,” he said, a teasing grin on his lips.

“My what?” Luke let out softly.

“Your girlfriend over there,” Jack teased as he tilted his head to the side in the direction of Y/N. Luke smiled widely as he stood up from the chair, he faced Jack. Luke looked into his eyes.

“Are you cool with this?” he asked softly. Jack smiled as he reached up and wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder. On his tippy toes, he began to walk with Luke towards the dining area.

“I am cool with this but I have rules,” Jack announced loudly. Everyone else began to pay attention too.

“Aw nice! You told him, this is great,” Cole cheered before he tossed back a shot of vodka.

Y/N smiled towards Luke as she leaned against the dining table.

“I have exactly four rules,” Jack said as he pulled away from Luke and stepped beside Cole and took a hold of one of the tiny shot glasses.

“Get ready,” she teased as Luke walked towards her. Delicately resting his hands onto her waist.

“First rule! No hands!” he waved his hands towards them. Awkwardly, Luke pulled his hands away from Y/N’s body, stifling a laugh. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked into Y/N’s eyes. “No mouths, I don’t wanna see it,” Jack said before he tossed the shot back. He shook his head.

“I second that rule,” Quinn encouraged before he tossed back his own shot.

Jack continued to list the remainder of the rules. Everyone else nodded along with each rule. They agreed to every last detail. Jack was animated with dramatic hand gestures in the process. All Luke could do was laugh.

“So basically, you want us to act like nothing ever happened?” Luke asked with a grin on his lips. Jack nodded while crossing his arms over his chest proudly. Luke shifted his gaze towards Y/N, raising his eyebrows slightly. She nodded very discreetly. “Oh, so you don’t want to see this?” he asked teasingly as he delicately rested his hands on her lower back as he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.

“Stop it!” Jack shouted while laughing. “Already breaking the rules!” he yelled as he pushed Luke away from Y/N. All of the other boys started laughing and wolf whistling.

Luke kept his hands onto her waist as he leaned his head against her shoulder. She reached up and rested her hand against his neck.

“Too much, too soon. I need more alcohol,” Jack let out while shaking his head, still laughing. Quickly, Jack poured himself another shot. “Someone take a box or a bottle, let’s get on the boat. So I don’t have to be watching this,” he mumbled as he took a hold of the vodka bottle and began walking out of the lakehouse.

All of the other guys laughed along as they followed him out of the house. Each of them taking a box of seltzers and leaving Luke and Y/N alone. He smirked before he leaned towards her, kissing her desperately. She giggled as she leaned away.

“Hey,” she mumbled as she ran her thumb across the side of his neck.

“Hey,” he muttered as his gaze lowered towards her lips. “His rules are stupid, right?” he asked as gaze remained on her lips. She nodded before she leaned towards him, kissing him desperately.

“Come on, before we get into trouble,” she mumbled against his lips. He smiled softly as he reluctantly stepped back. He held out his hand towards her and she happily took a hold of as he guided her towards the exit.

~Three days later~

He was laying shirtless on her bed, only a pair of black sweatpants covering his frame. She entered her room a towel covering her frame. Her eyes widened as her grip tightened around her towel.

“Luke! What the hell!” she said as she looked over his frame. He smirked as he did the same. Pressing his lips together, he fought a grin forming to his lips.

“Hey,” he said simply as he leaned back on his elbows as he continued to admire her.

“No hey, you are in my room and I don’t have clothes on,” she said while walking towards the closet to find something to cover her frame. Luke stood up from the bed excitedly. He stepped towards her excitedly, a smirk toying to his lips.

“Um, you know,” he swallowed hard as he scanned her frame. His cheeks started to pink up. “Boyfriend’s tend to see girlfriend’s without clothes,” he let out shyly. Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. She tried to stop herself from laughing.

“Well, boyfriend, if you think that this is the first time you’ll see me naked then you are strongly mistaken,” she let out teasingly. His lips fell into a pout as he continued to scan her frame. “Turn around and close your eyes, please,” she let out smiling. He smirked as he slowly turned around and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” she sing songed. She dramatically dropped the towel towards the floor.

“Now that’s just mean,” he said as he chuckled. She reached into her closet and took a hold of her matching pajama set. It was pink and silk and she quickly covered her frame. She ran her hand across her stomach. It was a thin tank top with a pair of loose shorts.

“You are so dramatic,” she said as she ran her hand across the center of his back. He tilted his head back as he swallowed hard. “So cute but very dramatic,” she mumbled. He chuckled dryly, his eyes still closed.

Slowly, she took a few steps to face him. Delicately, she ran her hands across his chest. His body tensed under her touch as he bit his bottom lip.

She glided her hands from his chest up to his shoulders before she landed on his neck. Her thumbs ran across the sides of his neck as she leaned up towards him and pecked his lips.

“Can I open my eyes,” he asked softly. She hummed and he opened his eyes slowly to meet her gaze. He reached his hands towards her resting on her waist. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her kissing her urgently.

He leaned down as he took a hold of her thighs. Instantly, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her hands ran through his curls as she deepened the kiss. Delicately, he lowered her down onto her bed as he climbed on top of her. A giggle fell from her lips as he pulled away, meeting her eye. “We’re not having sex in this house,” she said as she ran her hand across his jaw.

“I know,” he muttered as he leaned towards her as he pressed his lips against her jawline. Tilting her head back, he lowered his lips down her neck, trailing wet kisses.

Her breath caught in her throat, “I–I mean it, Luke,” she mumbled as she dragged her tongue across her bottom lip. He pulled the strap of her top off of her shoulder as he continued to lower his lips.

He slowly began to suck against the skin beneath her collarbone. He dragged his tongue across the heated skin as he tugged at the ends of her top. “Luke–” she let out breathlessly.

He hummed against her skin as he lifted his head up to meet her gaze. He glided his free hand along her side as he dipped his hand beneath the thin fabric of her tank top. “You can’t be doing this,” she muttered as she ran her fingers through his curls.

He smirked as he pecked her lips. “You cannot be kissing me like that,” she let out as she looked deeply into his eyes.

“Why not?” he asked softly as he leaned down and kissed her softly. She whined against his lips, he chuckled as he smiled as he pulled away.

“Because…” she trailed off as she scanned his features, “You just can’t kiss me like that,” she mumbled. He smirked as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. A muffled moan fell from her lips as he kept the pace slow. His hands were delicate as he glided along the skin of her stomach before he delicately tugged at it.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked as he pressed his lips against the corner of her lips. She took a deep breath as he kissed her jawline.

“No, don’t stop,” she mumbled breathlessly. He smirked against her skin as he continued to lower his lips along her skin. “Fuck,” she mumbled as she tilting her head back as she shut her eyes.

There was a loud knock against her door and Luke lifted his head as he clenched his jaw. Her lips fell into a pout as she let out a groan. “There’s a fifth rule! No sex while we’re under the same roof!” Jack shouted from outside the door.

Luke laughed as he rolled onto his back while shaking his head. He took a deep breath. He reached towards her, taking a hold of her waist and pulled her towards him. She smirked as she rolled onto her side as she rested her head into the crook of his neck.

“Oh my god, he’s going to be so annoying, isn’t he?” she mumbled as she pressed her lips against his neck.

“He’s going to be awful,” Luke let out while laughing.

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awrkive · 5 months ago

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[TEASER] THE LOVE PROGNOSIS (m) — JJK.

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. that girl who thought the guy she met at 19 at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. the girl who thought that her boyfriend at 21 would finally be The One after he introduced her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. you’re the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 1.2k words for this teaser but the fic currently is at 22k words (heavily unedited). the final estimate is around 30-35k 🤓

WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, weddings and engagement themes, the angst is a bit extreme (medium level tbh) on this one, it’s the… yearning? one sided-love?, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, multiple sex scenes (will specify once the fic comes out), i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me. the full list of warnings will be indicated when the full fic comes out 🙏🏼 anyways warnings particularly for this teaser: drunk oc, implied alcohol consumption, germaphobe jk lol

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! i wanted to do something for jk’s birthday this september and this is what i came up with 😭 i am so soooo so incredibly excited to announce this fic to you guys 😵‍💫 ive been working on this on and off since the last week of july and its currently at 20k words so its coming along really well 🫂 its gonna be a HUGEE HUGEEE fic since its estimated to be around 30k words which will be a first for me hehe <3 pls look forward to it and REPLY TO THE COMMENT SECTION IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST (pls do not send an ask for taglist request 🫶🏼) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!!!!! I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS <33333

[ TLP MOODBOARD ]

READ FULL FIC HERE ❗

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it. A huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies. “The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him. As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up

ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed

— your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook ff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #awrkive

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ha-rinrin · 2 months ago

Text

Torn Between Fire and Ice Sequel

Continuation of this fic, if you haven't read it, please do before reading this otherwise you won't understand most of it.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader (Caitlyns little sister)

Word count: 20k

Warning: smut

Authors note: well.. this took longer than expected. I got carried away and made it way to long, sorry for that, if this isn't what you expected I'm sorry to disappoint. To be honest, I’m not completely satisfied with it, but oh well—too late now.

materlist

You’re curled up on Jinx’s makeshift couch, nestled against her in the dim, cluttered space she calls home. Her arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like she’s afraid to let go. The familiar scent of gunpowder and paint clings to her clothes, grounding you in the chaos that somehow feels safer than anywhere else.

Jinx’s fingers trace absent patterns on your arm, her breath soft against your temple. For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is comfortable, almost fragile—like if either of you says anything, it’ll shatter the small bubble you’ve created here. But after a moment, she tilts her head, her voice breaking through the quiet.

“So…” she says, her voice low, almost hesitant, “you going back home after this?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel the weight of it press down on your chest. Home. Back to Piltover, back to Caitlyn, back to the reality you’d been hiding from. You can still see the hurt in your sister’s eyes, the betrayal, the shock of seeing you with Jinx. It’s all too fresh, too raw, and just thinking about it makes your stomach twist.

But here, in Jinx’s arms, the choice doesn’t feel so simple. Here, you feel like you’re allowed to be who you are—no pretenses, no expectations. Just you, with her.

You sigh, resting your head against her shoulder. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Going back feels… complicated.” The words feel like an understatement, but they’re all you have for now.

Jinx goes quiet for a moment, her hand slowing in its gentle path along your arm. She doesn’t ask you to explain, doesn’t press you for more. Instead, she shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you in a silent show of support.

“Guess I’m pretty complicated too,” she says with a smirk, though her tone is softer, more thoughtful than usual. “Ain’t easy, sticking around with me.”

You can’t help but smile, reaching up to brush a stray strand of blue hair from her face. “You’re complicated, sure. But… I’m not exactly in this for easy.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no glint of mischief, no teasing smirk—just a vulnerable, honest expression that she rarely lets anyone see. “I don’t wanna be the reason you lose everything,” she murmurs.

You shift a little closer, taking her hand in yours, your thumb tracing over her knuckles. The weight of her words settles in your chest, heavy and tender. It’s strange, seeing Jinx like this—unguarded, stripped of her bravado, and revealing the part of her that worries, that cares.

“You’re not,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s not that simple. Caitlyn… she just doesn’t understand.”

Jinx lets out a bitter laugh, her fingers lacing with yours. “Yeah, can’t really blame her,” she mutters, her gaze slipping away, focusing on some far-off point in the room. “All she’s ever seen is… well, you know. The explosions, the chaos. The mess I leave behind.” She falls silent, her jaw clenched, and for a second, you can see the cracks beneath her tough exterior.

You shift, lifting her chin gently so she’s looking at you. “I don’t care what she thinks. I know who you are, Jinx. Who you are with me.”

Her eyes search yours, a flicker of doubt giving way to something softer, something almost hopeful. She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it, like she can’t find the right words. Instead, she leans into you, resting her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“I never thought I’d have this,” she whispers, her voice raw. “Someone who… who’s willing to look past all that. To stay.”

Her vulnerability pulls at something deep inside you, and you feel your own heart aching in response. You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing away the doubts, the fears that linger there. “I’m here,” you murmur against her skin. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx lets out a shaky breath, her arms tightening around you like she’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Good,” she murmurs, her voice steadying as she pulls you closer, her head resting against your shoulder. “Because you’re the only thing that makes any of this make sense.”

Jinx shifts beside you, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve as if she’s trying to find the right words. After a moment, she glances up, her expression softer, more serious than usual.

“You know…” she starts, her voice hesitant. “Maybe… maybe you should go home. Just to grab some of your things.” Her fingers trace patterns on your arm as she speaks, her gaze focused on the movement. “I mean, if you don’t wanna go back for good, that’s fine. You can… stay here. With me. If you want.”

You blink, caught off guard by her offer. It’s not like Jinx to suggest something so practical, and the thought of staying here, of making this place your own hideaway with her, sends a strange warmth through you.

“You… you’d want that?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

She meets your gaze, and for once, there’s no teasing, no smirk—just an earnestness that makes your heart skip. “Look, I know this isn’t much.” She gestures to the cluttered room around you, a mix of salvaged gadgets, paint-splattered walls, and the faint scent of oil and metal. “But it’s real. And I’m here. So… if it’d help, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Long as you’re okay with all this mess.”

You can feel the vulnerability in her words, the unspoken fear that you’ll say no, that you’ll choose something safer, cleaner. But as you look around, you can’t help but smile. It may be chaotic, but it’s hers—warm and full of life in a way that nowhere else is.

“Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “I’d like that.”

Her eyes light up with a spark of relief, her lips curling into a genuine, lopsided grin. “Good. 'Cause I was worried you’d miss all your fancy Piltover stuff.”

You laugh, nudging her playfully. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, I can just grab a few things and bring them here.”

Jinx’s grin widens, her hand finding its way to your cheek as she leans in, her voice soft. “Then it’s settled. You’re staying with me.”

You slipped back into Piltover as discreetly as you could, taking a winding path through the quieter alleys to avoid any unwanted attention. With each step closer to your house, the memory of that last encounter with Caitlyn burned fresh in your mind—the cutting words, the anger in her eyes, the undeniable rift between you. You hesitated at your door, hand lingering on the handle, knowing that opening it meant facing everything you’d tried to leave behind in Zaun.

Steeling yourself, you stepped inside, the familiar space feeling strange now, as if you never belonged there in the first place. You moved quickly through the house, heading to your room, trying to gather the essentials. As you stuffed a few clothes into a bag, the silence grew louder, almost mocking you.

And then you heard footsteps behind you.

“You finally came back, huh?” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and accusatory. You spun around to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and fury.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her!” she snapped, taking a step closer.

“And choosing Jinx is a mistake!” Caitlyn pressed, her voice rising. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. She’ll destroy you!”

“Maybe I don’t care,” you replied, a defiance sparking in your chest. “You don’t get to dictate my fucking life.” your fingers digging into your palm as if trying to anchor yourself against the wave of frustration threatening to drown you.

At that moment, your mom's voice broke in, steady and commanding, A knot twisted in your stomach. “What’s going on here?” Cassandra Kiramman stood at the threshold of your room, her presence imposing.

Caitlyn immediately turned to her, the anger shifting focus. “Mom, she’s been with that… that criminal. You have to do something!” Your shoulders tensed with each word that left her mouth.

Your mom’s brow furrowed, her eyes darting between you and Caitlyn. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“She's involved with Jinx,” Caitlyn spat, urgency lacing her tone. “Mom, you know what she’s done, what she is. This isn’t just a phase for her—this is dangerous!” You clenched your jaw tight, she didn't know Jinx like you did, if she did, she wouldn't be spitting shit.

Your mother’s expression shifted from surprise to alarm, the weight of her role on the council pressing down on her. “Jinx? You’re serious?” Her voice trembled slightly, a rare crack in her usual composure. “You know what she’s capable of. She thrives on chaos, and we all know it.”

“Cait, stop!” you interjected, your frustration flaring. “I’m not some helpless child. I can make my own choices.” your voice sharp with frustration as you squared your shoulders, hands curling into tense fists at your sides.

Your mom's eyes narrowed, her motherly instincts kicking in. “Choosing Jinx is a terrible decision! You can’t possibly understand the risks involved. She’s a criminal, a threat to everything we’ve worked for.”

“I’m not ignoring anything!” you retorted, the anger boiling over. “I know who she is, and I’m still choosing to be with her.” you retorted, your voice trembling.

Caitlyn shook her head, disbelief etched on her features. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’re putting yourself in danger—she’ll ruin you!”

“Enough!” your mom commanded, stepping into the room with an imposing presence. “This is not a game. Jinx is reckless and unpredictable. Do you really think you can handle her?”

Your heart raced, a mix of defiance and desperation swirling inside you. “I’m not a child anymore! get that through your head. I can decide for myself!”

“Is that what you really think this is all about?” Cassandra’s voice dropped, laced with a blend of fear and urgency. “I’ve seen what she can do. She’s not just a bad influence—she’ll drag you into a life of chaos and danger. You’re risking everything!”

Caitlyn stepped forward, anger blazing in her eyes. “You’re playing with fire! You’re risking your future for someone who doesn’t care about you. I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect me?!” you exclaimed, feeling the walls close in. “You’re just scared because you don’t understand our relationship!”

“Scared?” Caitlyn retorted, disbelief written all over her face. “No, I’m furious! I won’t stand by while you make a huge mistake!”

Your mom took a breath, her authority tinged with desperation. “This isn’t just about you; it’s about the danger Jinx represents. She’s hurt people—she’ll hurt you too!”

The air in the room thickened, the intensity palpable as you felt trapped between their concerns.

“I don’t need your protection!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the charged atmosphere. “I can handle myself!”

“You’re acting like this is some kind of romance when it’s a disaster waiting to happen!” Caitlyn shot back, her frustration bubbling over.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes blazing with intensity. “This is about saving you from yourself. You deserve better than someone like her!”

Your mom’s gaze softened, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. “I love you. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You know the council takes Jinx seriously. She’s a liability. You’re not thinking clearly!”

She took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “If Jinx gets caught, I won’t be able to protect her. She’ll be sent to Stillwater without hesitation. And if you’re with her when it happens, you’ll be seen as an accomplice. Do you understand what that means for you?”

You could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The thought of Jinx being locked away, isolated and forgotten in that prison, made your heart ache. But you couldn’t let that fear dictate your choices.

“I can’t let you do this,” you said, voice trembling. “I won’t let you ruin what I have with her.”

Caitlyn’s expression shifted, a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re not seeing how serious this is! You’re risking everything—your safety, your future! Jinx doesn’t care about you.”

Your mom interjected, her tone urgent. “This isn’t just a phase; this is your life. If she keeps this up, I will have no choice but to act. I won’t lose you to someone like her!”

The tension in the room was palpable as you felt trapped, your whole body shaking from all the emotions coursing through you.

“Maybe I’m willing to take that risk. Maybe I’d rather be with her than live a life dictated by fear,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice.

Caitlyn shook her head, rage flashing in her eyes. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’ll end up in Stillwater too—just for being close to her!”

Your mom stepped forward, her expression serious. “Think about what you’re saying. You’re putting yourself in a position where the council will see you as a threat. You could lose everything you’ve worked for, everything we’ve built as a family.”

As their words echoed in your mind, the weight of the consequences loomed larger. But in your heart, you knew one thing: you would fight for Jinx, no matter what it took.

You could see the desperation etched on Caitlyn's face, the genuine worry underlying her fury. And then there was your mom, her steady gaze trying to pierce through your defiance, a plea masked as authority.

“Do you really think Jinx will choose you over her own freedom?” Caitlyn pressed, her voice low but fierce. “She’s not some fairy tale character who’ll ride off into the sunset with you. She’s a criminal,a murderer, and here you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words crashing down like a wave. “What do you want me to do? Just forget her? Pretend we never happened?”

“Yes!” Caitlyn exclaimed, her voice rising again. “It’s not about forgetting; it’s about surviving. Jinx will only bring you pain and danger. You have no idea what you're stepping into!”

“I’m not running away from my feelings,” you shot back, your voice growing more confident. “If Jinx is captured, then yes, I might suffer the consequences. But I’ll face those consequences knowing I stood by her.”

Your mom took a step forward, her eyes searching yours, pleading for understanding. “You think you’re prepared for what comes next? If she’s caught, they won’t just throw her in Stillwater; they’ll make an example of her. And if you’re involved, you’ll be branded a criminal too.”

Caitlyn interjected, her voice softer now but still urgent. “Please, think about your future. You’re on the brink of adulthood; you have your whole life ahead of you. Jinx won’t wait for you to figure things out. She’ll pull you into her world, and it’s not a world you want to be part of.”

You felt the weight of their concerns pressing in, but your heart was resolute. “Maybe I want to be part of that world. Jinx makes me feel alive in ways I never imagined.”

“Alive?” Caitlyn scoffed, disbelief etched across her features. “What kind of life is this? One filled with chaos, danger, and heartbreak? You need to see Jinx for who she really is.”

The tension in the room thickened, and for a moment, it felt like a standoff—two sides of a battlefield, each fighting for their version of the truth. Your mind raced with the potential consequences, yet all you could think about was Jinx, her wild laughter, her gentle caresses, and the moments you shared.

“Look,” you finally said, your voice steadying, “I can’t promise you that things will be easy. But I know what I feel for Jinx is real, and I refuse to let anyone take that away from me. I’ll find a way to make this work, no matter what happens.”

Your mom’s expression shifted, her eyes clouded with fear. “If you choose this path, you need to be prepared for the fallout. I won’t stand by while you throw your life away for someone who may not be worth it.”

“I have to make my own choices,” you insisted. “You can’t protect me from everything. If Jinx is sent to Stillwater, then I’ll find a way to help her. I’ll fight for her, no matter the cost.”

With that declaration hanging in the air, you felt a sense of clarity, a resolve that ignited your spirit. Caitlyn’s frustration radiated from her, and your mom’s fear was palpable, but you stood firm in your decision.

“Just remember,” your mom said, her voice low and serious, “you’re not just risking yourself; you’re risking everything we’ve built together. I hope you realize what that means before it’s too late.”

The weight of her words lingered in the silence, but in your heart, you knew you had to follow your path—whatever it might bring.

Your sister and mom finally left you alone, closing the door on their way out, you were alone, just you and your thoughts.

With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you reached for the door, ready to face whatever lay outside. But when you turned the handle, it wouldn’t budge. You twisted it again, more forcefully this time, but the door remained stubbornly locked.

“Seriously?” you muttered, trying again and again to open the door, frustration bubbling within you. “Mom, you can’t be serious.”

Caitlyn talked through the door, “We’re doing this for your own good,” she insisted, her voice steady. “You don’t see the danger you’re putting yourself in.”

You turned back to the door, rattling the handle as if it would magically give in. “Let me out! I can handle this!”

“No,” your mom said, her voice firm. “You need to understand that this isn’t just about you and Jinx. It’s about the risks she brings into your life.”

“Risk?” you scoffed, heart pounding in frustration. “What risk? The only thing I’m risking is my happiness by not being with her!”

“You’re being reckless. You don’t even know what Jinx is capable of. You think it’s all fun and games, but it’s not. You’ll end up hurt, and I won’t let that happen.”

“How many times do I have to say this!, I’m not a kid anymore, Caitlyn!” you shot back, anger flaring. “I’m old enough to make my own choices, and I choose Jinx. You can’t just lock me away because you’re scared!”

Your mom’s voice softened. “It’s not fear. It’s love. I can’t stand by and watch you throw everything away for someone like her.”

“What if I don’t care about everything?” you shouted, the words spilling out before you could think. “What if I’d rather have Jinx and deal with the consequences than live a life without her?”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with frustration. “You’re being selfish! You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“Selfish?!” you yelled, the tension in the room reaching a boiling point. “You’re the one who’s being selfish by trying to control my life!”

The air was thick with tension, each heartbeat echoing the conflict swirling around you. You turned back to the door, pulling at the handle again, desperation rising. “Let me out!”

“No!” Caitlyn’s voice rang out, firm and unyielding. “You need to think about this. You’re making a huge mistake, and I won’t let you ruin your life over some misguided infatuation!”

Your mom stepped forward, her tone serious. “This is not a decision you can take lightly. Jinx is a wanted criminal, and she’ll drag you into her world. Do you understand the risks? The council won’t hesitate to take action if they catch her again, and if you’re with her…”

“I know!” you shouted, feeling the weight of their words crashing down. “I know what I’m getting into. But I can’t just walk away from someone who makes me feel alive!”

Caitlyn’s expression softened slightly, her anger giving way to something closer to concern. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can help you, but you need to let us in.”

The weight of her plea hung in the air, and for a moment, doubt flickered in your heart. “Help me how? By forcing me to abandon everything I care about?”

“We want what’s best for you,” Caitlyn insisted, her voice steady. “But this isn’t the way. You’re playing with fire.”

As you stood there, caught between their worry and your determination, you felt the gravity of the situation sink in. But in your heart, you knew one thing: you couldn’t abandon Jinx. You wouldn’t.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away from the door, the reality of your choices pressing down on you. “I can’t just forget about her. I won’t let you lock me away to try and prevent me from seeing Jinx.”

“Then you’re choosing this path on your own,” your mom said, her voice laced with sadness. “But just remember, the council doesn’t play games. If they see you with Jinx, it won’t just be her that pays the price. You will too.”

And with that, the tension settled back into the room, leaving you feeling trapped, not just physically but emotionally, as the weight of your choices loomed larger than ever.

The house was silent now, the echoes of the confrontation still ringing in your ears. You stood by the window, staring out into the night, and it suddenly clicked: this was your only escape route. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, looking back to your door, where your mom and sister where, just behind it.

You stepped out of the window, feeling the cool night air rush past you. Just as you steadied yourself on the edge of the roof, a hand reached out to help you up. You gasped in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. Jinx stood there, her wild blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, a grin stretching across her face.

“About time you made a move!” she said, a mix of relief and mischief dancing in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were here!” you exclaimed, still catching your breath.

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting. Heard the shouting match—sounded intense,” she replied, her tone shifting to something more serious. “Are you okay?”

You looked back at the dark silhouette of your home, the memories of your family flooding your mind. “No… but I will be,” you murmured, the weight of leaving everything you knew pressing down on you.

Jinx stepped closer, her expression softening. “We’re getting out of here. I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way okay?,” she said, her voice steady.

You nodded, gratitude filling you. As she guided you along the roof towards the edge, a wave of melancholy washed over you. The city below, with its familiar sights and sounds, felt like a distant memory. Leaving your family, your sister, everything you had known stung deeply, but you pushed the feelings aside, knowing you had to focus on the path ahead.

With Jinx by your side, you prepared to step into the shadows of Zaun, where new beginnings awaited, even as the weight of your past lingered in your heart.

You’re lying on the worn couch in Jinx’s hideout, your body pressed against hers. Your face is nestled in the crook of her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin. One of your legs is draped comfortably across her waist, while the other is tucked beneath you. Jinx wraps her arms around you, holding you close. One of her hands rests gently on your thigh, grounding you with its warmth, while the other hand softly traces patterns along your back, providing a soothing rhythm. You can feel her heartbeat steady against you, which helps calm the storm of emotions inside.

As you lie together, you feel her warmth seep into you, wrapping around you like a protective blanket. “Hey,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a murmur, “I’m right here.”

You shift slightly, seeking her gaze. Her eyes are bright with concern, but there’s also a spark of something playful, a glimmer that reminds you of why you fell for her. “You know,” she continues, her fingers still dancing along your back, “you’re the best thing I’ve got”

A soft smile creeps onto your face at her words, but it quickly fades as the weight of your feelings crashes back in. You’ve left so much behind—your family, your old life—because they could never understand your love for her. “I feel like I lost everything,” you admit, your voice shaking as tears finally spill down your cheeks little by little.

Jinx’s expression shifts as she takes in your tears, her brow furrowing with concern. She leans closer, brushing her lips against your forehead. “It’s okay to feel like that,” she murmurs, her voice soft and steady. “You’ve been through so much.”

You can feel her warmth radiating through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting presence against the weight of your sorrow. “I want to be strong for you, but sometimes it feels too heavy,” you confess, your voice trembling. The truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. “I miss them, Jinx. I miss my sister, my mom, everything I left behind.”

Her hold tightens around you as if she can shield you from the hurt. “I wish I could take it all away,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “But just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have me. I’m right here.”

Jinx’s sincerity washes over you, a balm to your aching heart. You lift your head slightly, locking your gaze with hers. The glimmer of determination in her eyes makes you feel seen, understood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

“Then don’t think about it,” she replies, a hint of mischief in her tone as she tries to lighten the moment. “Just focus on us, on this—here and now. We’ll figure everything out together.”

She nudges your cheek with her nose playfully, a gesture meant to coax a smile out of you. It works, just a little. The corner of your lips twitch, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh through your tears. Jinx’s eyes light up at that, and she leans in to plant a soft kiss on your lips, sealing the moment with warmth and love.

With her arms still wrapped securely around you, you find solace in her presence. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of you.

You feel cocooned in the moment, the chaos of the world outside Jinx's hideout dimming to a distant hum. The scent of her hair—sweet and a little smoky—fills your senses, grounding you even more. Jinx pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, as if she’s memorizing every detail, every emotion swirling behind them.

“You know,” she begins, her tone softening, “I’m not exactly a ‘normal’ girl. I might be a bit… chaotic.” A small, playful grin tugs at her lips, a mischievous spark igniting in her gaze. “But I promise to always be your chaos. Just like I’m your explosion, you’re my spark.”

Her words hang in the air, warm and comforting. You can’t help but smile, feeling the familiar flutter of affection blooming in your chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply, your voice a mix of sincerity and teasing.

With a playful nudge, Jinx leans back, stretching her legs out and tugging you closer, as if wanting to make sure you’re tucked in securely. “See? We’re a perfect mess together,” she giggles, her laughter lightening the mood even more.

“Yeah, a beautiful mess,” you add, your heart swelling with love.

Jinx’s expression softens, and she brushes a thumb along your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. “Let’s make a deal,” she says suddenly, her eyes sparkling with mischief again. “For every sad moment we have, we’ll balance it out with something ridiculous and fun. Like… a bubble bath fight! Or, or we could go set off some fireworks in the middle of the night!”

You laugh at the thought, imagining the chaos that would ensue. “As long as I’m with you, I’m in. Just maybe not the fireworks. You know how your plans usually go…”

“Hey! My plans are perfectly fine!” she protests with a grin. “But okay, no fireworks—just you and me, causing a ruckus in our own special way.”

With her playful spirit lighting the room, you feel the weight of your sadness begin to lift, replaced by warmth and laughter. In that moment, surrounded by the love and chaos that is Jinx, you know that you can face whatever comes next—together.

“Thanks for being you, Jinx,” you say softly, snuggling closer to her, your heart full of gratitude.

“Always,” she replies, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Now, let’s just enjoy this for a bit. No worries, just us.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the moment, savoring the warmth and safety of her embrace, knowing that as long as you’re together, you can weather any storm.

Jinx's playful spirit sparks an idea. “You know what we can to do so you can feel much better?” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “A bubble bath! It’s the perfect way to unwind.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “A bubble bath, huh? Sounds like a plan.”

Jinx jumps up, practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on! I’ll fill the tub and grab some bath bombs!” She disappears into the small bathroom, and you follow her, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

The sound of water fills the air as Jinx prepares the bath, the warm steam rising, mixing with the sweet scent of the bath products she loves. You can’t help but smile at how she always brings a touch of chaos to even the simplest moments.

As the tub fills with fluffy bubbles, you begin to shed your clothes, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The water looks inviting, and the thought of sinking into it with Jinx makes your heart flutter.

Jinx turns around, her eyes gleaming as she holds up a colorful bath bomb. “Ready for some fun?” she asks, her grin infectious.

You nod, and she tosses it into the tub, causing a cascade of colors to swirl through the bubbles. “Look at that! So pretty!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up.

You step into the warm water, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as the bubbles envelop you. Jinx slips in next to you, her playful energy radiating as she wraps her arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

You lean back against her, feeling her warmth surround you like a cozy blanket. Jinx’s fingers gently comb through your hair, a soothing rhythm that melts away any lingering tension. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear. “Just us, no worries.”

You close your eyes, allowing the warmth of the water and her embrace to cocoon you in a comforting haven. “This is perfect,” you reply softly, relishing the moment.

As you bask in the warmth of the water, you feel Jinx’s presence enveloping you, both physically and emotionally. The gentle strokes of her fingers through your hair bring a sense of peace, and you can’t help but lean further into her, letting the stress of the outside world melt away.

Jinx chuckles softly, her laughter echoing lightly in the cozy space. “See? I told you bubble baths are the best. They have magic powers or something.”

You smile, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “Definitely. Your magic powers are working.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she leans closer, her breath a tantalizing whisper against your skin. “Just wait until I show you my secret bubble bath skills.”

Curiosity piqued, you lean in a little closer. “Oh? What are those?”

With a playful grin, Jinx shifts her position, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Just us being together, soaking in the warmth and forgetting the world. That’s all the skill I need.”

You can’t help but smile at her simplicity. It’s moments like these, stripped of chaos and distractions, that make you realize how deeply connected you feel to her.

As the bubbles gently swirl around you, the warmth and intimacy of the moment send butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You meet her gaze, feeling a spark of vulnerability and excitement.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” she replies, her tone sincere. “You make everything brighter.”

Slowly, she draws you closer until you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back. The ambiance shifts slightly, the playful atmosphere fading into a tender silence, filled with unspoken feelings.

Her gaze softens, and you sense the connection between you deepen. Jinx gave you a quick kiss at the top of your head, then both your cheek, Jinx leans in closer to your lips this time, her breath mingling with the warm air, sending shivers down your spine. “Can I kiss you?” she asks, her voice a mix of vulnerability and excitement.

Your heart races at the question, and all you can do is nod. In an instant, her lips are on yours, soft and sweet, a perfect contrast to the tranquil chaos of earlier. The kiss deepens, a soft exploration of warmth and trust, as the world outside disappears completely.

You melt into her, every worry and doubt fading away as you sink into the moment. The warmth of the water and Jinx’s embrace envelop you, creating a bubble of intimacy that feels safe and electric all at once.

As you melt into the kiss, you feel Jinx's fingers begin to wander gently along your arms, tracing delicate patterns against your skin. The warmth of her touch sends tingles coursing through you, amplifying the connection between you.

“You’re so soft,” she whispers, breaking the kiss for just a moment, her breath warm against your cheek. Her fingers continue their exploration, gliding from your shoulders down to your waist, every caress igniting a spark of electricity.

You lean back against her, letting her guide you further into relaxation. The water ripples gently around you as she pulls you closer, her hands roaming with a mix of tenderness and curiosity. Each brush of her fingertips feels like a sweet promise, a declaration of her affection that makes your heart race.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, as her fingers slide along your sides, teasingly exploring the curves of your body.

You nod, breathless and eager, completely lost in the moment. “More than okay,” you reply softly, your voice shaky with anticipation.

Jinx’s fingers continue their dance, moving slowly as if she’s memorizing every inch of you. The gentle pressure of her touch is both soothing and thrilling, igniting a warmth that spreads through you like wildfire. She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I love how you feel against me,” she whispers, her tone low and intimate.

Her hands explore further, gliding down your back and then around to your front, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. You feel as though the outside world has faded away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment.

The water bubbles around you, and the scent of the bath products fills the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of her fingers on your skin, each caress igniting a deep yearning within you.

As Jinx’s fingers continue their gentle exploration, they glide down from your waist, her touch light and teasing. You can feel the warmth of her body radiating against yours, heightening your senses with every brush of her skin.

Her fingers pause for a moment, hovering just above your chest. You meet her gaze, searching for reassurance, and the playful spark in her eyes gives you the courage to nod slightly. “You can touch me, Jinx,” you whisper, your heart racing with anticipation. You know exactly what she's going to do.

A mischievous smile spreads across her lips as Jinx's fingers begin to explore your breasts, and the world around you fades away, leaving only the electric sensations coursing through your body. She starts with a gentle caress, her touch soft and teasing, but it soon escalates to light squeezes, each one more intoxicating than the last. Finally, her fingers find your nipples, pinching with a newfound boldness, her restraint slipping with every movement. Each pinch sends thrilling shivers down your spine, igniting a warmth inside you that grows with every touch. Leaning back into her, you crave more of her warmth, surrendering to the intoxicating closeness that envelopes you both.

“Jinx…” you breathe, your voice thick with longing. Her fingers glide over your tits with sultry confidence, teasing and exploring, awakening a hunger within you that demands to be satisfied.

“Do you like that?” she murmurs, her voice low and playful. The warmth of her breath against your skin sends your heart racing, and you nod, completely lost in the sensations of her fingers slowly teasing your nipples with her fingers. “I want more,” you whisper, your desire clear.

With a mischievous smile, Jinx deepens her exploration. Her fingers slide lower, tracing the curves of your body with a feather-light touch. You can feel the heat radiating from her, igniting every nerve as her hands roam lower, finding their way to your waist.

“Just for you,” she promises, her sultry tone sending a thrill through you. Her lips capture yours in a heated kiss, filled with urgency and need. You melt into her, your body responding to her every movement, every kiss igniting a fire deep within you.

Jinx's kisses travel from your lips to your neck, her soft lips trailing kisses along your collarbone, sending delicious shivers racing down your spine. As she kisses her way up, her fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, and suddenly, she finds a spot that makes you gasp—a place where her touch sends tingles of pleasure radiating through you.

“Right here?” she asks playfully, her lips hovering near that sensitive spot. You nod breathlessly, unable to form words as she leans in, her mouth capturing your skin. With a gentle bite and a little sucking, she leaves a hickey, marking you with her lips. The sensation of her mouth against your neck, combined with the delightful pressure of her hands roaming your body, sends waves of pleasure surging through you.

“Jinx!” you gasp, a mix of surprise and exhilaration flooding your senses. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but there’s a thrill in her possessive mark that makes your heart race even faster.

“Looks like I found your sweet spot,” she teases, her voice low and sultry as she continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, each touch igniting more heat within you. “I could spend all night right here.”

You lean back against her, surrendering fully to the sensations as her lips leave a soft trail of kisses along your neck, lingering on each spot with gentle care. Her hands explore your body with a tender curiosity, mapping out every curve as if savoring each one. She lets her fingers travel slowly, her touch becoming more intimate, until she finally reaches the sensitive area between your thighs, teasing in slow, delicate movements. Each kiss and every gentle caress along your skin builds the tension between you, and when her fingers begin to brush over your clit, your breath catches, a soft gasp escaping. The warmth radiating from her touch feels electric, and the heat simmering between you grows, filling the space with a heady sense of anticipation

“God, Jinx, it feels so good,” you manage to murmur through your moans, feeling lost in a haze of pleasure as she finally inserts her index and middle finger inside you. The world outside fades away, and all you can focus on is her—the warmth of her body against yours and the way her fingers come in and out of you ignites every nerve.

“Just relax and let me take care of you,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The way she says it sends a thrill through you, urging you to surrender completely to the sensations that engulf you.

Jinx’s lips continue to explore, her kisses trailing down your neck and lingering on the mark she’s left behind, making you feel cherished and desired.

As she continues working her magic with her fingers, you can feel the pressure building within you, the delicious tension leaving you breathless. “Please, don’t stop,” you beg, your heart racing as her fingers curl inside you, igniting the fire within you that craves more.

“Never,” she murmurs, her voice sultry and thick with desire. Her lips press against your neck once more, lingering on the sensitive skin there, each kiss purposeful and unhurried. Her hand moves gently, and you feel her thumb begin to trace slow, deliberate circles, building a steady rhythm against your clit. The sensation stirs a powerful, almost overwhelming wave of pleasure, but she’s patient, coaxing each reaction from you as if savoring every moment. The world around you fades completely, leaving only the feel of her touch, her warmth against you. Every kiss, every careful movement, draws you closer to her, binding you in a shared intimacy that feels electric, as if you’re the only two people in the world.

The air around you seems to thrum with energy as Jinx's fingers keep working you up, each movement perfectly timed to your breaths, making you lose yourself in the sensations. Her thumb circles against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. The warmth of the water envelops you both, creating an intimate that feels like a secret world just for the two of you.

“Jinx…” you breathe, your voice a mix of urgency and longing, every nerve in your body ignited by her touch. Your head tips back, resting against her shoulder, as you surrender completely to the bliss she’s giving you.

“Just let go,” she encourages softly, her voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve got you.”

With every stroke of her fingers, the heat within you builds, a tide rising and ready to crash. You can feel your body responding instinctively to her rhythm, the tension coiling tighter, urging you toward that edge. The way Jinx’s lips brush against your skin, paired with the gentle rocking of her fingers, pulls you deeper into a dizzying haze of pleasure.

“God, I can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, your breath hitching as the pressure within you swells to a near breaking point.

“Good,” she replies, her tone both teasing and passionate. “I want to feel you come apart for me.” Her fingers quicken their pace slightly, and the sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure rushing through you, igniting every inch of your skin.

You can feel your heart racing, the world around you blurring into a haze as the waves of pleasure build, cresting and crashing within you. You grip the edge of the tub, your nails digging in as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her touch, the warmth of her body against yours, and the sweet sounds of your shared intimacy.

“Jinx, please,” you gasp, feeling the tight coil of tension inside you reaching its peak, ready to snap.

“Just let go, toots,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, as if urging you on, a secret promise behind her words. “You’re so close. I can feel it.”

With a final swirl of her thumb and a deep curl of her fingers inside you, the world shatters. Pleasure explodes through you like fireworks, bright and consuming, washing away everything else. You arch against her, gasping as waves of ecstasy pulse through your body, pulling you under in the most beautiful way.

“Jinx!” you cry out, lost in the moment, completely enveloped in her warmth and the intoxicating aftershocks of your release.

Her arms tighten around you, holding you close as you tremble in the aftermath, every sensation magnified. She kisses your shoulder softly, her lips brushing your skin as you ride out the last waves of pleasure, whispering sweet nothings that send flutters through your heart.

“You did so good,” she praises, her voice soft and warm, filled with affection. “I love seeing you like this.”

As the waves of pleasure gradually subside, Jinx gently cradles you in her arms, her touch tender and reassuring. She plants soft kisses along your shoulder, each one a whisper of affection that lingers in the warm, steamy air. “You okay?” she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern, her eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You nod, a soft smile breaking across your face as you lean into her warmth. “More than okay,” you breathe, your heart still racing but now filled with a warmth that spreads through your chest.

Jinx grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good. I’d hate to think I overwhelmed you. Just wanted to make you feel amazing.” She shifts slightly, ensuring you’re both comfortable in the embrace, and the water ripples around you, creating a soothing melody.

“Mission accomplished,” you reply, your voice light and airy as you feel the remnants of bliss still tingling throughout your body.

With a playful glint in her eye, Jinx dips her fingers into the bubbly water, splashing a few bubbles toward you. “Let’s keep this magic going a little longer,” she says, her grin infectious.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you splash her back playfully. The moment feels effortless, a carefree exchange that wraps around both of you like the warmth of the water. The intimacy of the earlier moments lingers, but now it’s infused with a cozy lightness that makes your heart soar.

“Come here, you,” Jinx says, pulling you closer, her arms enveloping you as she gently sways you back and forth in the tub. “We should stay like this forever. Just us, no worries, no chaos.”

You lean your head against her collarbone, the softness of her skin grounding you. “I could get used to this,” you admit, relishing the tranquility that fills the air.

Jinx brushes her fingers through your hair, a soothing gesture that sends warmth flooding through you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

As the minutes pass, you both enjoy the quiet intimacy, the steam rising and swirling around you like a protective cocoon. You catch her gaze, the playful spark in her eyes replaced with something softer, deeper. “You really mean that, huh?”

“Absolutely,” she replies, sincerity dripping from her words. “You deserve all the magic, all the moments like this. I’ll always be here to give them to you.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, filled with the rhythm of your breathing and the gentle splashes of water. The weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you wrapped in a tender bubble of connection.

After the warmth of the bath, you find yourself back in Jinx's hideout where you'll be living from now on, the air still thick with the aftermath of shared intimacy. The chaotic charm of the place wraps around you like a comforting blanket, filled with colorful gadgets and strange contraptions that reflect Jinx’s vibrant personality.

As you take in the surroundings, your gaze lands on a glimmering object resting on her workbench. It sparkles under the dim light, hues of deep blue swirling within. Curiosity piqued, you move closer, drawn in by its beauty.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the mesmerizing gemstone.

Jinx’s eyes light up with mischief, a grin spreading across her face. “Oh, that?” she replies, leaning closer to you, her excitement contagious. “That’s a special little thing I borrowed.” She gestures toward it dramatically. “Isn’t it amazing?”

You can’t help but be captivated. “What does it do?”

“Not entirely sure yet,” she admits, biting her lip in that way you find adorable. “But Silco wants me to make something cool with it—an invention or probably a weapon. You know how he is.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice, mixed with that familiar defiance you adore.

“Silco? You mean—”

“Yeah, my dad.” Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, but you can sense the excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “He thinks this gem could be the key to something big, but honestly? I just think it looks awesome.” She leans closer, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Who knows what kind of trouble we could get into?”

You chuckle, both thrilled and a bit concerned. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Safe?” she scoffs playfully. “Since when has that ever been part of the deal?” She winks, the chaotic energy around her pulling you in. “But that’s what makes it fun! Besides, if it’s dangerous, that just means we’re doing it right!”

As she picks up the gemstone, its light reflects off her features, illuminating her excitement. The feeling of adventure washes over you, mixing with the warmth of your shared moments. You find yourself entranced, eager to see where this wild ride with Jinx will lead next.

Jinx is hunched over her workbench, various parts and pieces strewn across the table as she begins to assemble a rough blueprint. Her focus is intense, brows knit together, eyes fixed on the pieces as she fits them together with methodical precision. It’s fascinating to watch her work, but after a while, the silence and her intense concentration start to make you feel like a bit of an afterthought as you lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You stretch out on the worn couch, tossing a dramatic sigh into the room. “Jinx,” you drawl, glancing over at her with an exaggerated pout, “are you planning to ignore me forever, or just until this thing actually works?”

Jinx doesn’t even flinch, her hands deftly twisting a screw into place as she mumbles, “Just until it’s done, maybe. Unless you keep whining like that. Then I’ll take even longer.”

You roll your eyes, feigning offense. “Wow, am I really that easy to ignore? I might just melt into this couch from sheer neglect.”

She finally glances over her shoulder, smirking. “Not my fault you’re jealous of a couple of bolts and screws.” With a playful raise of her brow, she nods toward her blueprint. “Besides, this isn’t just ‘a thing.’ This is gonna be epic. A beast of a… a… Fishbones!”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Fishbones?”

She shrugs, looking unbothered. “Yeah! You know, it’s got… bite! ‘Course, I’ll need to get it there first.” She turns back to her work, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the table.

You huff again, shifting restlessly. “Maybe it’s me that needs your attention, ever thought of that?”

Jinx quirks an eyebrow, but her hands don’t leave her work as she replies with a low chuckle. “Oh, I’ve thought about it. Trust me. But some of us have to focus to make something cool happen.”

You cross your arms, sinking deeper into the couch with an exaggerated huff. “So I’m supposed to sit here and be second place to a metal skeleton?”

She sighs, pausing her work long enough to glance over with a faint grin tugging at her lips. “If it’s any consolation, you’re definitely my favorite person who’s ever interrupted my work.”

You let out a snort, rolling your eyes. “Not good enough.”

A flicker of amusement crosses her face as she gestures you over with a tilt of her head and pats her thighs. “Alright, fine. Come here, you little distraction.”

You don’t need more of an invitation, slipping off the couch and sliding onto her lap, making yourself comfortable as her arms instinctively wrap around you, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her gaze.

She rolls her eyes but can’t hold back a small smirk. “I swear, you’re more high-maintenance than Fishbones is gonna be.”

You lean into her, pressing your forehead against hers with a soft smile. “Maybe I just like being a little bit of trouble.”

Jinx huffs a laugh, her fingers lightly tracing patterns along your back. “Guess I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Jinx’s focus starts to shift as you nestle against her, the warmth of her body grounding you. The metal parts on the table glimmer under the dim light, but you’re no longer interested in them. Instead, you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your fingertips, and it’s surprisingly soothing.

“See?” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. “You just needed to remind me how amazing I am at multitasking. I can build my epic invention and cuddle with you at the same time.”

You chuckle, enjoying the playful banter. “Oh, really? Because it looks more like I’m doing all the work here.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark of mischief in her gaze. “Yeah, sure. You're the one doing all the hard work of lounging around and stealing my warmth. It’s exhausting.”

“Exactly! This is a very demanding job,” you reply dramatically, sinking further into her embrace. “Someone has to make sure you stay motivated.”

“By distracting me?” She scoffs, but the smirk on her lips tells you she’s not really annoyed. “How am I supposed to focus on my masterpiece when you’re this close?”

You shift slightly, nestling into her a bit more. “Maybe I’m your real masterpiece. You know, the ultimate work of art.”

Jinx snorts, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to do better than that to get a compliment out of me. I mean, just look at you compared to this genius invention.” She gestures to her workspace, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

You chuckle again, finally relenting as you settle into a more comfortable position on her lap. “Fine, I’ll let you have your moment. Just promise you won’t forget about me entirely, okay?”

She pretends to ponder your request for a moment, biting her lip to suppress a grin. “Mmm… I’ll think about it. But no promises!”

You let out a mock gasp, clutching your chest. “How could you do this to me?”

Jinx laughs, shaking her head in delight. “Oh, I can think of a million ways. But right now, I need to focus, remember?”

“Right, right. But only after you give me at least one kiss for luck.” You raise an eyebrow, your playful tone inviting her to indulge you.

She pauses her work, glancing at you with mock seriousness. “You know what? That’s a fair trade.” Then, with a grin that makes your heart race, she leans in, pressing her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is sweet and fleeting, leaving you both smiling as she pulls back. “See? Now you can’t complain about being neglected. You have your kiss of luck, and I’m back to being a genius.”

With a mock sigh of defeat, you settle back into her embrace, ready to enjoy your time together while she dives back into her work.

Little did you know how that weapon was going to change your entire life.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the makeshift hideout. Jinx sprawled out on the floor, her legs kicked up on a crate, while you leaned against the wall, watching her as she fiddled with an array of gadgets. The atmosphere was light, punctuated by her occasional bursts of laughter as she told you wild stories of her adventures.

“...and then I rigged the whole thing to blow just as they walked in! You should have seen their faces!” Jinx giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn’t help but chuckle along, captivated by her enthusiasm.

But as the stories flowed, you caught a glimpse of something flickering behind her playful demeanor. It was subtle, like a shadow passing over her expression—a hint of darkness that seemed to creep in whenever she mentioned Piltover or the Enforcers. You tried to brush it off, but it lingered, a gnawing feeling in your gut.

“Jinx, do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation toward a lighter path. “I mean, look at us! We’re like a chaotic dream team.”

She smirked, the glimmer in her eyes returning. “Yeah, but I’ve got plans, toots. Big plans! And they can’t even begin to imagine what I’m capable of.”

Her tone held a slight edge, something almost predatory that sent a shiver down your spine. You met her gaze, searching for the playful girl you knew. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just… you know. Letting off some steam. A little chaos never hurt anyone, right?” Her grin widened, but you noticed her fingers twitching slightly, as if itching for something more than just a harmless prank.

You felt a tension settle between you, the line between lightheartedness and something darker becoming increasingly blurred. “I guess not,” you replied cautiously, hoping to lighten the mood. “Just don’t forget about us, okay?”

“Forget about us?” She chuckled, but there was a fierceness behind her laughter. “Never. I’m all in, you know that.”

Yet, the undercurrent in her words echoed like a warning, one that left you with an uneasy feeling as you watched her dive back into her work, the fleeting shadow of something dangerous still lingering in the air.

In an attempt to break through the heaviness, you slid down onto the floor beside her, resting your head against her shoulder. “You know,” you began softly, “no matter what plans you have, I’m always here to be your partner in crime. Just… remember to squeeze in some fun, okay?”

Jinx paused, her fingers hovering above the scattered parts, and glanced at you, her eyes sparkling with warmth. She nudged you playfully with her shoulder, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re right. I could definitely use some fun—especially with my favorite troublemaker right here.”

With a sudden burst of energy, she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted into her, feeling the softness of her shirt against your cheek and the comforting warmth of her body enveloping you. The world outside faded for a moment, replaced by the familiar scent of her hair and the sound of her laughter vibrating through you.

“See? This is what I’m talking about! Chaos and cuddles all in one,” she declared, her voice muffled as she buried her face into your hair, the softness of her laughter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

You chuckled, feeling the weight of her presence soothe your worries. “I’m definitely up for more cuddles and a little less chaos… at least for tonight.”

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. “Alright, but if I get inspired and feel that chaotic urge creeping in, you have to promise to join me. Deal?”

“Deal,” you replied, grinning back at her. You took a moment to soak in the sight of her—messy hair, smudged cheeks, and that radiant smile that seemed to brighten the dim room. “But first, can we just enjoy this for a bit? You know, the cuddles part?”

Her laughter danced in the air as she leaned closer, resting her forehead against yours. “Yeah, I could get used to this. Just you and me, causing havoc in our own little world.”

You smiled, feeling a lightness bloom in your chest. “Exactly. Just us. No missions, no plans—just moments like this.”

Jinx’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering with warmth. “You make it sound so simple, but it feels perfect.” She brushed her fingers lightly along your arm, and in that quiet moment, everything felt right.

“Perfect, huh?” you teased gently, nudging her playfully. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course it is!” she replied, her grin widening. “Now, let’s make some memories before I go back to plotting world domination, or whatever it is I do.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, feeling the joy and comfort radiating between you. The flickers of darkness that had lingered earlier were pushed aside, replaced by laughter, warmth, and the promise of more adventures together—one chaotic moment at a time.

The flickering light from the workbench casts dancing shadows on the walls as Jinx is lost in her world of gears and blueprints. You watch her from the couch, your mind swirling with thoughts about the recent conversations you've had. She’s been obsessed with Fishbones lately, her excitement palpable, but there’s something darker brewing beneath that enthusiasm.

“Jinx,” you begin softly, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to gauge her mood. “Have you thought about what you’re actually planning to do with Fishbones?”

Her fingers pause, and she glances up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you mean? It’s going to be the ultimate weapon!” She grins, clearly not understanding the weight behind your words.

You swallow, trying to choose your next words carefully. “I get that it’s going to be amazing, but… what if it’s used against people? It’s not just a toy, Jinx. We’re talking about real destruction.”

She shrugs, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Hey, it’s not like I’m going to blow up the whole city! Just… the bad parts. You know, the ones that think they’re all mighty when, in reality, they’re just a bunch of spineless council puppets hiding behind their rules.

“Still,” you press, shifting slightly to show your concern. “There’s a line between defending ourselves and becoming the very thing we’re fighting against. It’s a slippery slope.”

Jinx rolls her eyes playfully, but there’s a flicker of seriousness in her gaze. “Come on, you worry too much. I promise it’s just for show. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” you echo, arching an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“Just think about it!” she exclaims, waving her hands animatedly. “I can’t make something that cool and not use it! I just want to show Piltover they can’t keep stomping all over us and acting like I’m some rabid dog they can lock up.. Is that so wrong?”

You watch as Jinx rummages through her supplies, her energy infectious, but a knot of concern still tightens in your chest. “Jinx, this isn’t just about fun and games. What if something goes wrong? What if someone gets hurt?”

She freezes for a moment, her hand stilling on a gadget. “You really don’t get it, do you? This is how we make a statement! We can’t just sit around waiting for them to decide our fate.”

“Making a statement doesn’t have to mean risking lives!” you counter, frustration creeping into your voice. “There’s a difference between standing up for ourselves and throwing caution to the wind!”

Jinx narrows her eyes, the playful spark dimming again. “You think I want to hurt people? I want to show them we’re not afraid. They think they can just crush us under their boot, and I won’t let that happen!”

“And I’m not saying you should!” you reply, your voice rising slightly. “But you’re talking about using a weapon, Jinx. This is serious! What if it backfires?”

“Backfires?!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You think I’m some clueless kid who doesn’t know what she’s doing? I’ve been planning this for weeks!”

“It’s not about being clueless! It’s about thinking things through!” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “I’m not trying to undermine you; I just don’t want to see you go down a path that could end up destroying everything we’ve fought for.”

Her expression hardens, and for a moment, it feels like there’s an invisible wall between you. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of villain! I’m not out here to hurt just anyone—only the ones who damn well deserve it!”

“And how do you decide who deserves it?!” you demand, frustration boiling over. “What if you cross a line you can’t come back from? I can’t support that!”

She glares at you, the air thick with tension. “So what? You expect me to just sit here and let them grind us into the dirt? That’s not how this works!”

“I want you to think before you act!” you say, your heart racing. “You’re smarter than this, Jinx. You can fight back without becoming the very thing you despise.”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you, both of you breathing heavily. Jinx's eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You of all people should understand what it’s like to be pushed to the edge!”

“I do understand!” you shoot back, feeling the weight of your words. “That’s exactly why I’m worried! I don’t want to see you lose yourself in all of this.”

Jinx’s shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining from her. “You really think I’m going to lose myself?”

“I’m afraid of it,” you admit, your voice softening. “I don’t want to watch you become someone who’s consumed by anger and revenge.”

Her gaze softens for a moment, and she takes a step closer, her voice quieter. “I thought you were in this with me, that you’d back me up no matter what.”

“I am in this with you,” you say, sincerity flooding your words. “But backing you up doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you do. I care about you too much to just stand by and watch you make choices that could hurt you—or others.”

For a long moment, she studies your face, the tension shifting into something more complex. “You really are a buzzkill,” she mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe I just want to keep you grounded,” you reply, matching her grin with one of your own. “And maybe I want you to remember who you are, deep down.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, but you can see the flicker of affection in her expression. “Fine. I’ll try to keep the chaos in check… a little.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you say, relief washing over you. “Let’s find a balance between your plans and making sure we’re not losing sight of what really matters.”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “You win this round. But just know, when I do unleash some glorious chaos, you’ll be right there beside me!”

“Deal,” you agree, feeling the heaviness of the argument lift as you share a warm smile.

Yet beneath it all, you sensed this was only the start of something bigger.

The following evening, the atmosphere in the hideout feels charged, the air thick with a tension that’s hard to ignore. You find yourself perched on the edge of a rickety chair, watching Jinx as she sits cross-legged on the floor, her array of gadgets and blueprints sprawled around her. She’s been unusually quiet, and instead of her usual playful banter, she’s focused intently on her sketches.

As you peer over, you catch sight of her doodling the intricate designs of Piltover’s council buildings, her pencil moving rapidly across the paper. The lines are sharp, almost aggressive, and a chill runs down your spine as you realize that the detailed buildings aren’t just architectural sketches; they look like targets.

“Jinx?” you venture cautiously, shifting in your seat. “What are you working on?”

Her head snaps up, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, but there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface. “Just some ideas,” she replies casually, though her tone doesn’t match the intensity of her gaze.

You lean forward, trying to decipher her mood. “Ideas for what? It looks… different from your usual stuff.”

“It’s nothing,” she brushes off, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she flips the page. “Just thinking of ways Fishbones could take on those pesky enforcers, Silco’s request.”

Your stomach knots at her words, the playful edge to her voice sending alarm bells ringing in your mind. “Jinx, you’re not serious, right? You can’t actually be thinking about attacking them.”

She rolls her eyes, the sparkle in her expression dimming slightly. “It’s just brainstorming! Nothing wrong with a little strategy, toots.” But there’s a glint in her eyes—a thrill that unnerves you.

“Strategy?” you repeat, your heart racing. “This doesn’t sound like the fun chaos you usually talk about. This sounds… dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she echoes, laughing lightly. “Come on, it’s not like I’m drawing up a full-on battle plan! I just like to imagine how I could make a statement, that’s all.”

“But what kind of statement?” you push, feeling a mix of concern and frustration. “You’re talking about real lives here, Jinx. This isn’t just a game!”

Her expression shifts, and you can see the flickers of intensity rising in her gaze. “Maybe it should be taken seriously! They’ve taken everything from us, and I’m just thinking about how to fight back.”

It almost felt as if Silco was talking through her, but there isn't time to think about that. You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I get that, but you can’t just focus on destruction. There has to be another way.”

“Another way?” she snaps, her voice rising slightly. “You mean the way they want us to? Just keep our heads down and hope for the best? That’s not going to change anything!”

You watch as her enthusiasm begins to morph into something darker, a dangerous thrill radiating off her. It’s unsettling, and despite your attempts to reach her, the intensity in her demeanor only grows stronger. “I’m not saying you should just give up, but there’s got to be a line we don’t cross.”

“Why not?” she challenges, her eyes narrowing. “If they won’t stop until they wipe us out, why should I hold back? Maybe it’s time they learned what happens when they mess with the wrong people!, show them what happened when they mess with me”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The excitement in her voice sends shivers down your spine. “Jinx, please. You’re scaring me. This isn’t who you are.”

For a moment, her expression falters, and you catch a glimpse of the playful girl you fell in love with. “I… I’m just trying to protect us,” she says, her voice softer now, but there’s still an edge to it.

You reach out, placing your hand over hers, grounding her in that moment. “I know you are, but you don’t have to do it this way. You can be a hero without becoming a monster.”

Jinx stares at you, the conflict in her eyes palpable. “I don’t want to be a monster,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “But what if they make me one?”

You can feel the heaviness in the air, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on you both. “Then we fight together, but we fight smart, not reckless.”

After a beat, she lets out a frustrated sigh, pulling her hand away to scribble on her sketch again, though the energy has shifted. “You’re right,” she finally admits, her voice tight. “I just… get so carried away sometimes. I want to show them I'm not afraid.”

“You’re not alone in this, Jinx,” you reassure her gently. “You don’t have to carry that weight by yourself. Just promise me you’ll think about the consequences of your plans, okay?”

“Fine,” she replies, her voice laced with a reluctant acceptance. “But don’t expect me to stop dreaming up chaos. It’s who I am.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to change that,” you smile softly, grateful for the return of some lightness. “Just let’s keep the chaos fun, alright?”

Jinx smirks, a hint of her usual mischief returning. “You got it, partner. Chaos and cuddles only!”

As she leans into you, the earlier tension begins to fade, but you can’t shake the feeling that the flickers of darkness are still there, waiting just beneath the surface.

A few days later, the hideout buzzes with a different energy. Jinx is on a roll, her excitement palpable as she paces the small space, tossing ideas around like confetti. She’s practically glowing with enthusiasm, but you can’t shake the lingering unease that’s taken root in your heart.

“Okay, okay, hear me out!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What if we set off a few booms in Piltover, just to remind them I’m still here? Nothing too crazy, just a little fun to keep them on their toes!”

You frown, feeling the tension tightening in your chest. “Jinx, are you serious right now? You can’t just go blowing things up. That’s not fun; that’s reckless!”

She brushes off your concerns with a wave of her hand, spinning around to face you. “Oh come on! It’s not like I’m asking to destroy the whole place. Just a little chaos, just to show them we mean business!”

“Chaos isn’t just harmless fun, Jinx!” you challenge, your voice rising slightly. “You know what happens when you start throwing around explosives. People could get hurt—innocent people!”

Her expression shifts, the mischief fading as she crosses her arms defensively. “Innocent people? Like the council members who don’t give a shit about us? They’re the ones holding all the power!”

“Exactly! And you think blowing things up is going to change that?” You stand your ground, feeling the heat of the moment. “You’re not some vigilante. You can’t take justice into your own hands like this!”

Jinx’s eyes flash with frustration, her playful demeanor crumbling under the weight of your words. “What do you want me to do, huh? Just sit back and let them walk all over us? Pretend everything is fine while they scheme against us?”

“It’s not about pretending! It’s about finding a way to fight back without becoming a monster yourself!” The words spill out before you can stop them, the frustration boiling over. “You’re better than this, Jinx!”

Her gaze hardens, the air growing thick with tension. “Better than what? Better than standing up for myself? You don’t get it!” she snaps, her voice tinged with an edge you’ve never heard before. “You’re so wrapped up in your little ideas of right and wrong that you can’t see what’s at stake!”

“Maybe it’s you who’s not seeing clearly,” you retort, your heart racing. “This isn’t just a game. This is our lives! It’s our future!”

Jinx narrows her eyes, a flicker of hurt flashing across her face. “Our future? You’re the one who’s worried about consequences while I’m trying to make something happen! I don’t want to sit and wait for change. I want to make it!”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words hang in the air. “I want change too, but not at the cost of losing who you are. You can’t let this ambition turn you into someone you don’t want to be.”

She scoffs, her anger simmering just below the surface. “So what am I supposed to do? Just sit back and watch them destroy everything down here? That’s your plan?”

“No!” you exclaim, frustration giving way to desperation. “But there has to be a balance! You can’t let your passion for chaos blind you to the consequences. You have to think about how this affects us, Jinx!”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, the weight of the argument settling heavily in the air. Jinx’s gaze drops, the fire in her eyes dimming as the reality of your words sinks in. “You don’t trust me,” she murmurs, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you reply softly, stepping closer, searching her gaze for understanding. “It’s that I’m scared of what this obsession with taking down Piltover is doing to you. You’re losing sight of what matters.”

She shakes her head, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You just don’t get it! I need to show them that we’re not afraid! I can’t just sit around and wait for someone else to make a change!”

“Jinx…” you start, but the words die in your throat. The intensity of her ambition is overwhelming, and for the first time, you feel the crack in your relationship growing wider.

Her expression hardens, a wall going up as she turns away. “I can’t believe you don’t see what I’m trying to do. You’re supposed to be my partner in this, not my conscience.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a part of this if it means losing you to the darkness,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Jinx’s back remains turned, and for the first time, you wonder if this rift between you might be deeper than you realized.

But what matters to you is that somehow you and Jinx managed to patch things up, like a small band-aid covering every crack in your relationship. The problem is that band-aids eventually wear off.

The hideout buzzed with energy as Jinx animatedly shared stories from the day’s escapades, laughter spilling from her lips like a melody. You leaned against the wall, heart swelling with affection, but a nagging worry settled in your gut.

Lately, Jinx had been spending more time with Silco, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was weaving himself into her thoughts. She’d come back with strange ideas and reckless plans, discussing ways to “take down Piltover” as if it were a casual evening chat.

“Jinx,” you called out, catching her attention as she fiddled with the blueprints scattered across the table. “Can we talk for a second?”

She paused, tilting her head with a playful smirk. “What’s up, toots? Are you finally going to help me with Fishbones?”

You took a breath, trying to keep your tone light, but the concern in your chest pushed through. “It’s not about Fishbones. It’s about Silco. I’m worried he’s getting in your head.”

“Come on! Silco just knows how to think big!” she laughed, brushing off your concern with a wave of her hand. “He gets it. He’s not like the others.”

“But that’s just it,” you pressed, stepping closer. “You trust him too much. He has his own agenda. I don’t want you to lose sight of what we stand for.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her playful demeanor faltering for a moment. “I’m not losing anything! He’s just… giving me a broader perspective.”

“Jinx, this isn’t just about having a bigger picture. He’s been pushing you toward this dangerous edge,” you insisted, your heart racing. “And you keep talking about taking action. What does that even mean?”

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as the fire within her flared back to life. “You really think I’m going to sit back and let Piltover trample us like we’re nothing? That’s not who I am—I refuse to be their victim!

“I know who you are, and that’s why this scares me!” you replied, voice rising with frustration. “I love your wild spirit, but don’t let Silco twist it into something it’s not!”

The air thickened with tension as she stared at you, a mixture of anger and uncertainty flashing across her face. “So you want me to just ignore everything he says? Pretend like it’s not happening?”

“Not ignore it, but think critically about it! We can find our own way without becoming pawns in someone else’s game!”

Jinx’s expression hardened, the playful glint gone from her eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see the bigger picture. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to protect what you care about.”

You felt a surge of hurt at her words, sensing the growing divide. “But at what cost, Jinx? I don’t want to lose you to this chaos.”

A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with defiance. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Jinx—” you began, but she cut you off, frustration evident. “Just drop it! I don’t need you to protect me!”

As she turned away, retreating out of the hideout, you were left standing there, the weight of your argument settling heavily in your chest. Silco’s influence felt like a shadow stretching between you, and the distance that grew felt more like a chasm.

The silence that followed was deafening, each heartbeat echoing the uncertainty that had taken root in your chest. You were losing her to the chaos that surrounded you both, and for the first time, doubt gnawed at the edges of your heart.

Hours slipped by in a haze of worry, the dim light of the hideout casting shadows that seemed to press in closer. You found yourself retreating to a quiet corner, desperately trying to grasp onto the love you felt, the memories that had once felt so untouchable. But each one now felt laced with the tension that Silco had brought between you.

Eventually, the door creaked open, and there she was, lingering in the threshold. Her blue eyes were intense, a hint of that same defiance still sparking, but her posture softened, uncertain as she scanned the room and found you. She looked like she had a thousand things to say yet no words for any of them.

“Jinx…” you whispered, the name feeling heavy on your lips.

She hesitated, chewing her lip before stepping closer, crossing the small space between you two with measured steps. “You… you didn’t have to wait around,” she muttered, her tone caught somewhere between vulnerability and pride.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Not after that.”

A silence settled over you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, caught in the weight of the unsaid things, the worry and love that seemed to intertwine, complicated and unbreakable. She shifted her weight, her gaze finally dropping as if the confidence that had fueled her argument earlier was slowly peeling away.

“You really think I’m letting him control me?” she asked softly, the vulnerability in her voice threading through the tension.

You nodded slowly. “I think he’s changing the way you see things. And that scares me, Jinx.”

She glanced back at the doorway, the shadows of the hideout looming behind her, then back at you, her eyes wavering. “I… don’t want to be used. I just thought maybe, for once, I could… matter. Make a difference. Make him proud of me”

“You matter,” you said gently, stepping closer, feeling that familiar pull between you both. “You always have. But we can find a way without him. If he really loved you he would be proud of you no matter what. ”

Jinx’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, she looked tired. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. Then, reaching for your hand, she gave it a small squeeze, grounding herself in the warmth of your touch. “Guess I’m not always the mastermind, huh?”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “You’re still my Jinx.”

For the first time in hours, her expression softened, and she leaned into you, just enough to let the weight of her defenses fall away. And for now, it was enough.

As Jinx’s hand slipped into yours, grounding herself, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. The strain, the arguments, the growing fear of losing her—it all poured out at once. A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another, and before you could turn away, Jinx was already pulling you into her arms.

You buried your face into her shoulder, clutching her tightly, the familiar scent of gunpowder and oil oddly comforting. She held you firmly, letting you release everything you’d held back. Her hands moved to your back, tracing small, soothing circles, each gesture wordlessly saying, I’m here.

After a moment, Jinx pulled back, her gaze softening as she took in the tear-streaked expression on your face. She reached up, her fingers delicate as she cupped your cheeks, brushing her thumbs against your damp skin. “Hey, don’t cry, toots,” she whispered, voice gentle, holding you like you were something precious.

Then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, she leaned in, her lips pressing soft kisses over each tear, one by one. Each touch was light, warm, melting the tension that had built up in your chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m still here, still me.”

You let out a shaky breath, a flicker of relief breaking through the worry. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, Jinx. Not to anyone. Not to Silco.”

Jinx paused, her face inches from yours, her gaze serious. “You’re not gonna lose me,” she said softly, her hands never leaving your face. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

She held your gaze, her eyes fierce but softened by something raw and real. And in that moment, words weren’t needed. You knew, as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

As the days pressed on and Fishbones neared completion, you could feel the shift in Jinx’s energy, like a storm gathering on the horizon. She’d retreat into her projects for hours, emerging only to scribble some hastily thought-up addition or tweak in her blueprints. It was clear she was consumed, her mind caught in an unwavering current that seemed to pull her further from you.

One evening, as you stepped into her makeshift workshop, you found her crouched over Fishbones, tightening bolts with fierce precision. Tools lay scattered around her, and the look in her eyes was one of singular, intense focus. She didn’t even glance up when you came in.

“Jinx,” you started gently, taking a step forward. “Do you have a minute? I thought maybe we could talk… about Fishbones.”

At the sound of your voice, she tensed, setting the wrench down with a metallic clang. “Why do we have to keep talking about this?” she muttered, her eyes narrowed, the walls around her clearly rising higher. “It’s fine. Fishbones is perfect the way it is.”

“I know you put so much work into it, and it’s incredible, Jinx,” you replied carefully, feeling the words stick in your throat. “But some of these additions—do they have to be so… aggressive? I’m just worried.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, finally standing up to face you. “Why are you so worried all the time? It’s like you’re trying to put a leash on me, on Fishbones, on everything.”

“It’s not that,” you said, trying to hold your ground. “I just don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt because of all this. We can use Fishbones in a way that keeps you safe.”

Her eyes hardened, a stubborn glint sparking. “I’m not some little kid you need to protect, alright? I don’t need anyone telling me how to be me. And Fishbones? It’s gonna be exactly what I want it to be, no matter what.”

She turned back to her work, closing you out as she resumed tightening the last pieces. Each crank of the wrench echoed in the silent room, like the final snaps of a door shutting between you.

You planned the day carefully, choosing a quiet corner of the city where the hum of Zaun’s chaos softened. A hidden rooftop with a view overlooking the rusted skyline, a place far removed from blueprints, weapons, or talk of revenge. You laid out a simple picnic, filled with a few of Jinx's favorite things—sour candies, fizzy drinks, and a few pastries you’d found in Piltover.

When you finally coaxed her out, she looked wary, as though expecting some kind of trap. But the sight of you grinning, sprawled out on a soft blanket in the sun-dappled light, seemed to chip away at her guard. She dropped onto the blanket beside you, a smirk tugging at her lips as she popped a candy into her mouth. standing herself with her elbows

“What’s all this?” she asked, looking almost amused.

“Just us,” you replied with a shrug. “Thought we could take a break, maybe slow things down a little. You’ve been working so hard, Jinx.”

“Didn’t know I’d earned myself a picnic,” she teased, though the way her gaze lingered on you gave away her appreciation. “You’re getting soft, toots.”

You grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Maybe I’m just smart enough to know when you need a break.” You handed her a fizzy drink, watching her expression light up as she took a sip, savoring the tart bubbles. She leaned back further, letting her eyes drift closed, soaking up the rare, quiet moment.

Jinx let out a soft sigh as she straightened up, now sitting, settling against you, her head resting on your shoulder as she relaxed into the calm, almost surreal peace of the rooftop. She popped another candy into her mouth, savoring the sour burst as she looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a familiar mischief softened by something gentler.

“This is too nice,” she murmured, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Feels like I should be suspicious.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Guess you’ll have to let me surprise you for once.”

Jinx’s grin widened, and she let herself melt against you, her fingers tracing light patterns over your hand. “Fine, but only because you bribed me with candy.” She nudged her shoulder into yours, glancing up at you, eyes shimmering with an affectionate warmth that was rare to catch.

As you sat there, the sky around you dimming into softer shades, you could feel her focus shift entirely to you. She moved closer, the playful spark in her gaze softening as her fingers intertwined with yours. You gently cupped her cheek, feeling her lean into your touch, her expression caught between a smile and something deeper.

“I mean it, Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet rooftop air. “You deserve these moments, too.”

She looked at you for a long moment, her defenses slipping in the silence as if she couldn’t quite believe you were real. Then, without a word, she leaned up, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt like everything she couldn’t say out loud. Her hand slid up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin as she deepened the kiss, her touch warm and grounding.

The world around you melted away as you lost yourself in the kiss, feeling her relax and trust you in a way she rarely allowed herself to. Her fingers played at the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as her lips moved softly, passionately against yours, your own hands tangled in her beautiful blue hair. She pulled you closer, her energy warm, electric, and overflowing with a genuine care that was unmistakably hers.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her usual smirk softened into a smile that was only for you. She let out a small laugh, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “You’ve got a way of making everything else disappear, you know that?”

“Good,” you murmured, leaning your forehead against hers. “Because right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Jinx’s fingers laced through yours as you both sat there, tangled together under the dimming Zaun skyline, her laughter and the softness in her gaze anchoring you to the moment. It felt like, here on this rooftop, you’d found a sliver of peace—just the two of you, leaving the rest of the world far behind.

But then, somewhere below, the soft clink of metal against metal disrupted the quiet. You almost ignored it, brushing it off as the usual hum of the city, but then came a sharper clang and the distant rumble of machinery. Jinx’s grip on your hand tightened, her body tensing as her gaze drifted to the edge of the rooftop, where shadows stirred.

The playfulness in her expression wavered, giving way to something sharper, more focused. The laughter that had danced between you moments before seemed to fade, slipping away like a half-forgotten melody as reality crept back in, filling the space with a new, charged silence. You could see her eyes narrow, a flicker of determination setting in, as if the peace you’d found had only been borrowed and the world below was here to collect its due.

“Jinx?” you started, sensing her shift, the warmth retreating from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She sat up straight, her expression hardening as she focused on the chaos below. “It’s just… Piltover doesn’t stop, does it?” she said, her voice low, edged with frustration. “They think they can walk all over us, and I refuse to let them think they can get away with it!”

You followed her gaze, feeling a pang in your chest as you understood what was happening. The reminders of Piltover’s oppression—the flashing lights, the sounds of machinery, the chaos—were all too familiar and raw.

“Jinx, let’s not—” you began, but she cut you off, her words coming out sharper now, tinged with an intensity that sent a shiver through you.

“I can’t just sit here and pretend everything is fine!” she snapped, eyes blazing with a fierce resolve. “They’ve pushed us around for too long. I want them to see me—not as a joke, but as someone who can make a difference!”

The shift in her demeanor was like watching a switch flip. The softness you had nurtured moments ago was swallowed by the encroaching shadows of her ambition. You reached out, trying to anchor her back to the moment, to the laughter you had shared.

“Jinx, please, listen to me,” you urged, your heart racing as you grasped her hand, desperate to pull her back. “You don’t have to take this on alone. We can find a way to fight back together, without losing yourself”

But she shook her head, pulling her hand away as frustration bubbled up inside her. “You don’t understand! This isn’t just about revenge; it’s about proving I’m not weak. I want them to know I’m capable of more than they think. I can’t just be the girl who causes chaos—I have to be more!”

The passion in her voice, while powerful, filled you with dread. You could see the danger in her determination, the risk of losing the very essence of who she was to the chaos she was ready to embrace.

“Jinx, don’t you see? You’re more than just a weapon or a tool for revenge. You’re so much more!” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We need to find a way that doesn’t involve becoming what they expect us to be. You’re not just Jinx, the girl who causes chaos. You’re the one I love—the one who brings joy and laughter, even in the darkest times.”

She faltered for a moment, the fire in her eyes flickering as your words pierced through the haze of ambition. But it was only for a heartbeat before the shadows returned, darker and more insistent than before.

“I can’t just forget what they’ve done. I need to prove that I’m strong enough to stand up for myself and for Zaun!” she declared, her voice rising as her frustrations poured out.

The moment felt heavy, a chasm widening between you. You had tried to pull her back into the light, but the darkness she was drawn to was too strong, too seductive. It made you feel helpless, watching the person you loved wrestle with a turmoil you couldn't quite reach.

In that moment, you realized that while you could share laughter and joy, the echoes of Piltover’s cruelty were louder than any picnic or soft words. You both needed to find a way through this, but the path was obscured by her anger and the shadows of her ambition.

As silence enveloped the rooftop, you could feel the distance grow, the lingering warmth of the earlier connection now just a faint memory.

The silence hung between you like a storm cloud, heavy and charged. You could feel the tension crackling in the air, and it felt as if the very rooftop was bracing for impact. Jinx’s eyes sparkled with determination, but beneath that, a flicker of uncertainty danced—a contradiction you hoped to expose.

“Jinx, I get it,” you said, voice rising slightly as frustration seeped in. “But this isn’t the way! If you keep pushing for revenge, you’re just playing into their hands. You’ll become exactly what they expect—a chaotic force, a weapon they can use!”

Her laugh was cold and bitter, slicing through the tension like a knife. “What do you know about what they expect? You live in your cozy little world while I fight tooth and nail every single day! You think this is a game?”

“It’s not a game, and I’m not ignoring what you’re going through!” you shot back, heart racing as emotions surged. “But sacrificing yourself to become a pawn in Silco’s plans isn’t the answer! You’ll lose everything that makes you, you!”

Jinx’s eyes blazed, fury igniting as she rose to her feet, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “You don’t understand! I’ve spent my whole life being underestimated, being called a joke, a jinx. I have to show them I’m not just some crazy girl with a few tricks up her sleeve. I’m more than that! I have to make them fear me!”

“Fear isn’t strength, Jinx! It’s weakness!” The words slipped out before you could catch them, the urgency driving you to raise your voice. “You want respect, not fear! You want to be seen for who you really are, not just a weapon in someone else’s game. Can’t you see that?”

Jinx spun around, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “And how do you propose I do that? Just sit back and wait for them to see me? You think that will change anything? They won’t respect me unless I show them what I’m capable of!”

The heat of the moment intensified, and you stepped closer, desperate to bridge the chasm forming between you. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone but yourself! The people who truly care about you will see your worth without the chaos! Why can’t you trust that?”

“You’re not just a weapon. You’re brilliant, you’re creative, and you have so much potential! But this obsession with proving yourself is clouding your judgment!” you urged, pleading with her to see reason

“Why can’t you just support me?” she yelled, eyes blazing. “Why can’t you see that I’m doing this for us, for Zaun? If I don’t take action, then what’s the point? I refuse to be a victim!”

“You think I want you to be a victim?” you shouted back, exasperated. “I want you to be safe! I want you to be happy! But you’re running headfirst into danger, and it’s tearing us apart!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to pull me away from my goals!” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to dictate what I can or can’t do! I’m not your little project to fix!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of hurt and anger swell within you, but you fought to keep your composure. “I’m not trying to fix you, Jinx. I just want you to realize that you don’t have to do this alone! We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of your little team anymore!” she spat, her voice rising with each word. “I don’t need you holding me back!”

In that moment, the air between you crackled with tension, your emotions swirling into a whirlwind of hurt and desperation. Jinx stood before you, a whirlwind of defiance and ambition, and yet beneath it all, you could sense the fear of losing herself to the chaos she felt compelled to embrace.

“Jinx, please!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the weight of your plea. “I don’t want to lose you! You’re so much more than this rage and chaos.”

For a fleeting moment, the fire in her eyes wavered, and you could see the conflict churning within her. But it was quickly masked by anger once more. “You think I can just forget everything that’s happened? That I can pretend like Piltover isn’t crushing us every day?”

“I don’t want you to forget, but I want you to fight differently!” you exclaimed, stepping forward again. “You have the power to inspire people, to bring them together, to create change without losing yourself in the process! Please, just think about what you’re sacrificing!”

Jinx's eyes flicker with intensity as she steps back, her voice rising, “Do you think they’ll ever let me be anything else? The council, the enforcers—they see me as a criminal. Nothing I say or do is gonna change that.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “But pushing them further won’t help, Jinx. You’re just giving them more reasons to hunt you down.”

Her jaw clenches, lips curling into a mocking smirk. “So, what, I just sit back? Let them make all the rules?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you insist, struggling to keep your tone calm. “But every time you go after them, you’re risking more than just your life. There’s so much more here—so much more to us.”

Jinx scoffs, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, like she’s torn between you and something much darker. “Maybe I don’t want them to have the last word.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “And maybe I just want to keep you around a little longer.”

For a moment, the defiance softens, and she’s looking at you with something vulnerable, something almost gentle. But it fades quickly, her expression hardening again. “They’ve got you wrapped around their finger,” she mutters, pulling back.

Jinx’s words linger in the air, sharp and unyielding, but you refuse to let her pull away entirely. “I’m not on their side, Jinx. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She tilts her head, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion, her defiance still on full display. “Safe? And what do you get out of it, huh?” There’s a flash of something raw, almost accusing, as if daring you to admit you don’t understand her world.

Your hand finds hers, grounding her even as she looks ready to bolt. “Maybe I get to be around you. Just you, Jinx, not the fighter or the name they give you, but...you.”

Jinx’s smirk twists, her hand slipping out of yours like a shadow. “You think you can just talk me out of this?” Her tone turns mocking, eyes gleaming with something more volatile. “You think that’s all it’ll take to make me just… sit pretty, like some lapdog?”

“Jinx, that’s not what I meant,” you say, trying to keep calm. “I’m just saying that if you keep pushing this—”

“Then what?” she snaps, voice rising as she takes a step back, crossing her arms defiantly. “Then what happens? They take me down? They throw me in Stillwater?” Her voice is laced with venom, each word daring you to challenge her.

You hesitate, and that’s enough. She seizes it, her eyes narrowing. “See? Even you don’t believe I can make it out of this. You’re just like them.”

“That’s not fair,” you argue, feeling the sting of her words. “I’m here, aren’t I? I left everything to be with you!”

Jinx’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t relent, her gaze icy. “Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you’re just as blind as they are, thinking you can fix me.” Her words hit like a slap, each one colder than the last.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the air thick with hurt and frustration. Then, without another word, she turns, walking away before you can say anything else, leaving you alone in the hollow silence of her retreating footsteps. The storm you both had danced around finally erupted, and you felt the distance between you grow wider, the rooftop now a battlefield for hearts torn apart by ambition and fear.

You took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of your earlier words. The air felt thick with unspoken words, the silence between you heavy as you struggled to find the right thing to say. You couldn’t let the anger fester between you; you needed to reach her before the distance became insufferable. So, you made your way back to the workshop, where the clatter of metal and the faint smell of burning circuits filled the air.

As you stepped inside, the scene was nothing less than chaotic, Jinx sitting in a stool surrounded by blueprints and makeshift weapons, her brow furrowed in concentration. But the moment you entered, she looked up, and her expression shifted—defensive, as if she expected an attack.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. The defensiveness in her voice was like a shield, her anger a barrier against your concerns. It hurt to see her like this, closed off and unapproachable.

“Jinx, please, I want to talk,” you said, your voice soft but urgent. “I need you to listen to me.”

“What could you possibly say that I haven’t already heard?” she replied, turning back to her work, her shoulders tense with unspoken frustration.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your earlier argument heavy in your chest. “I want to apologize for what I said. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. I care about you more than anything, and the thought of losing you terrifies me."

Her laughter rang harshly in the cramped workshop, an indication of the walls she had built around herself. The tension hung in the air, a physical thing you could almost touch

“Jinx—” you started, but the words died in your throat when you caught a glimpse of a list she had spread across the table. As you leaned closer, your heart dropped. Among a scribbles of names, one stood out like a dreadful sight—your mother’s name, circled in red ink.

A memory flickers through your mind, warm and vivid. You recall a sunny afternoon when you were a early teenager, sitting on the porch with your mom, her laughter filling the air as she recounted stories from her own youth and listened to your struggles. You can almost feel her hand on your shoulder, her hugs, the comfort of her presence, her arms surrounding you. But now, that warmth feels cold and distant, faded under the weight of what you've learned.

The shock washes over you like a wave, pulling you under. You think back to the sweet moments you shared, and how quickly they turn bitter. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you struggle to process the contrast of that joyful day and the grim reality now laid bare before you.

“Why?” The word escapes your lips in a whisper, raw and laden with confusion and sorrow. Tears filling your eyes.

In that moment of clarity, you realize the stakes have changed. The girl you once knew and loved seems faded, and you’re not sure if she’ll ever come back. You lock eyes with Jinx, her expression shifting from mischief to concern. She can see the turmoil within you, but you’re not sure how to voice the storm brewing in your heart.

“Jinx, I—” you start, but the words don’t come. All that’s left is the weight of the moment, and the understanding that everything you care about is in jeopardy.

“What is this?” you whispered, your voice trembling along with your hands.

“What does it look like? It’s my plan,” she snapped, her voice hardening as she faced you. The defiance in her eyes only masked the uncertainty that lay beneath, a wall you desperately wanted to tear down.

Your heart raced, shock settling deep in your gut. “This is a joke, right? You can’t be serious about this. My mother… she’s not your enemy. She’s done so much for people in Zaun trying to defend them against the rest of the council.”

“Your mother is part of the council,” she shot back, her tone cold. “She’s part of the problem.” Jinx’s words cut deep, fueled by resentment that had festered over the years.

“You don’t understand!” you cried, stepping closer, desperate to make her see. “She’s a good person! You don’t know what she’s done for this city. And you think killing her is the answer?”

Jinx crossed her arms defiantly. “It’s not personal; it’s necessary. If we want to change things, we have to take out the root of the problem!”

You processed her words for a couple of seconds.

“Necessary?” you echoed, disbelief lacing your voice. What about the cost, Jinx? Do you really believe this will fix anything? You’re playing with lives!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You keep saying I should just sit back and let Piltover crush us. You don’t know what it’s like down here!”

“I do know!” you shouted, the frustration boiling over. “I left my family for you! I chose this life because I believed in us! But you’re losing yourself in this havoc! You don’t have to lose yourself to fight back! You can be strong without becoming a fucking monster!”

Her eyes flashed with anger she stood up, and stepped closer, her voice dropping dangerously low. “And what if I want to be a monster? What if I want to prove I’m more than just the girl you fell in love with? I can’t be weak anymore!”

“Prove yourself? By hurting innocent people?” you pleaded, tears falling down your cheeks. “That’s not strength, Jinx! That’s surrendering to the dark!”

For a moment, her expression flickered, a crack in her fierce facade. “You don’t understand anything!” she shouted, hitting the table with her fist, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.

“Then help me understand!” you cried, feeling the tears spill over. “You’re pushing me away, and it’s breaking my heart! You don’t have to do this alone!”

The air between you crackled with tension, the fight spiraling into something deeper, more painful. You watched as Jinx wrestled with her emotions, caught between the hatred she felt compelled to embrace and the light that flickered within her. You could only hope she would choose to come back to you, back to the love that had once defined your world together.

You can see the storm brewing behind Jinx’s eyes—a mix of fury, confusion, and fear. “You don’t get it!” she shouts, throwing blueprints into the air, her voice breaking as she struggles to keep her composure. “Every day, I watch Piltover take everything from us. They don’t care about our lives, our pain! If I don’t fight back, then what’s the point?"

“Fighting back doesn’t mean becoming a killer!” you urged, stepping even closer, the desperation in your voice rising. “I understand your pain, I really do. But don’t let it consume you! You’re better than this!”

“Better than what?” she shot back, her fists shaking at her sides. “Better than taking control? Better than standing up for myself? I’ve spent my whole life feeling powerless, feeling weak. I won’t let that happen again!”

“Then prove that you’re strong enough to fight for change without sinking into the dark!” you pleaded, your own voice thick with emotion. “You can be a hero without losing yourself!”

Jinx scoffed, and you could see the mask of defiance slipping. “A hero? For who? For your precious council? They’ll just keep pushing us down while they live in their shiny towers! What do they care about us?”

“I care about you!” you shouted, the words pouring out in a rush. “I left everything behind for you, Jinx! Your voice trembled with the truth of your sacrifice, the raw emotion behind it echoing in the silence between you. You could feel your heart racing as you laid bare your feelings, desperate for her to understand the depths of your commitment. “You say you want to prove yourself, but this isn’t the way! You’re not a monster; you’re so much more than that!”

Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into her fierce expression. But then she shook her head, frustration returning. “You think I can just turn my back on all of this? On everything I’ve worked for? You don’t see what it’s like for us! You’re blinded by your privilege!”

“Blinded? I chose this life! I chose to be with you!” you countered, anger and heartbreak blending into one. “But it feels like you’re choosing to push me away instead!”

Jinx’s gaze hardened once more, but the wavering in her voice betrayed her. “You don’t understand what it means to fight for your life every day, to feel like you have to become something you hate just to survive!”

“Then let me help you! Together, we can find a better way to fight—one that doesn’t destroy you in the process!” you urged, feeling the tears spill down your cheeks. “You’re not alone in this! You don’t have to be!”

“I’ve always been alone!” she shouted back, her voice rising with the pain of her past. “Do you think you can just swoop in and fix everything? You just think you know what it’s like!”

“You’re making it impossible to understand you! You’re shutting me out, and it’s tearing us apart!” you reply, stepping closer, heart racing as tears stream down your face like a waterfall.

The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of your argument hanging heavy. Jinx’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the fire of anger flickered, replaced by something deeper—a vulnerability she was struggling to confront.

“Every time I try to do something, it’s never enough,” she admitted, her voice trembling. The vulnerability in her admission caught you off guard, revealing the internal struggle she faced—the crushing weight of expectations and perceived failures. “I feel like I’m drowning in this chaos, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

“Then let me be your lifeline,” you urged, reaching out to cup her face in your hands, wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “You don’t have to bear this alone. We can face this together.” You stepped closer, your heart pounding as you tried to reach her, to show her that she didn’t have to fight this battle by herself. Your desperation to connect was palpable, a lifeline you hoped she would grasp.

But just as quickly as it appeared, her mask snapped back into place, and she pulled away from your touch. “I can’t risk losing you like I lost everyone else! I won’t let you down with me.”

“Jinx, you’re not going to lose me if you let me in!” you cried, your heart aching with every word. “But if you continue down this path, you won’t just lose your fight; you’ll lose yourself completely.” The gravity of your words hung in the air, a warning that resonated with both of you. You could see the flicker of fear in her eyes, the realization of what she stood to lose beyond the immediate struggle. “And I can’t bear to watch you destroy who you are.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, both of you catching your breath from the weight of the confrontation. Jinx stood there, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, caught in the crossfire of her own inner demons.

“Just… just go,” she finally whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I can’t face this right now,” she murmured, her voice cracking as she stepped away from you, the distance feeling insurmountable.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I won’t leave you like this.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!” she shouted, the anguish in her voice ripping through you. “But I can’t stop this. I need to do something! I have to prove that I’m not weak!”

“Prove yourself by being strong enough to choose love over hatred!” you pleaded, your heart racing. “By choosing to fight for a better future, not just revenge!”

Jinx faltered, the fire in her eyes dimming as the weight of your words settled over her. But just as quickly, her fierce expression returned, anger bubbling back to the surface. “You don’t get it! You have no idea what it’s like to fight for survival!”

“Then let me in, Jinx!” you yelled, frustration mixing with desperation. “Show me! Let me help you! But don’t push me away!”

The chaos of the workshop faded into the background as you stood there, raw and vulnerable, hoping for a spark of understanding to break through her defenses.

But as Jinx’s eyes searched yours, you saw the conflict raging inside her—a storm of emotions battling against the walls she had built around herself. You could only hope she would let you in, that she would choose love over the darkness that threatened to consume her.

You watched as Jinx’s expression hardened once more, the flicker of vulnerability snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the workshop, the door slamming behind her with a finality that echoed through the chaos.

She didn't return the next hours, days stretched into an agonizing blur, each moment dragging heavier than the last. You found yourself wandering through the cluttered workshop, tracing the familiar paths your fingers had taken alongside Jinx. Yet, the space felt emptier without her laughter and chaotic energy. Each tick of the clock was a reminder of her absence, and the worry gnawed at your insides like a relentless hunger.

Every time you thought of her, your heart ached at the image of her battling her demons alone, becoming someone you hardly recognized. It made you cry every. single. time.

One morning, after a particularly restless night, you woke to an odd feeling. The workshop was still, the hum of machinery absent, just as it had been since Jinx left. You padded over to the workbench where Fishbones usually lay, a symbol of Jinx's chaotic brilliance. But as you peered closer, your heart sank. The spot was bare; the blueprints were scattered, but the centerpiece of her latest creation was gone

“Jinx?” you called, your voice trembling in the stillness. But there was no response, just the echo of your own fear reverberating back at you. You ask yourself when did she came back, and why did she leave without a word.

Panic surged through your veins as you began to search the workshop frantically, rifling through the scattered tools and half-finished gadgets. You felt a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “Where did you go now?” you whispered, the question hanging heavy in the air.

You forced yourself to remember the last time you’d seen her, the angry tears in her eyes and the fierce determination in her voice. She was on a mission—one you didn’t understand, one that scared you more than you could express. You ran a hand through your hair, pacing the room, your thoughts spiraling out of control.

Maybe she had gone to confront the council, to put her plan into action without you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t let her do this alone, couldn’t let her plunge deeper into the dark. Not when you could still reach her.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you grabbed your coat and headed out, determination pushing you forward. You had to find Jinx before it was too late.

As you burst out of the hideout, the chaos of the streets collided with the weight of your heart. Gasps filled the air, and the acrid scent of smoke stung your nostrils. But nothing could prepare you for the sight that greeted you: a massive bomb soaring through the sky, headed straight for the council’s hall.

“No, no, no!” you shouted, horror washing over you as the realization sank in. You knew Jinx had been plotting something, but you hadn’t expected this—this was more than chaos; this was devastation. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you turned and sprinted towards the council building, fear pushing you forward.

Your heart raced as you burst into the council chamber, dread settling in your gut as the horror unfolded before you. The chaos of the scene blurred the edges of your vision, each moment stretching painfully as reality sank in.

The remnants of the explosion painted a devastating picture—flames flickered hungrily, consuming the walls, and the air was thick with acrid smoke and the bitter scent of ash. The acrid scent of burning debris stung your eyes, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. And there, amidst the charred wreckage, lay your mother’s body—still and lifeless, a tragic stillness that felt like the world had shattered around you.

An unbearable weight pressed against your chest, Memories still flashing before your eyes: her laughter, the way she used to tuck you in at night, the warmth of her embrace on the darkest days. Each recollection a reminder of the love that had once seemed so invincible, suffocating you in your disbelief.

As you fell to your knees beside your mother, the world around you faded into a blur of smoke and flames.”Mom.. mom please wake up, I'm so sorry, mom please, Im sorry” you begged, hoping that this was all just a dream. You reached out, fingers trembling, desperate to feel her warmth. But as your hand met her cold skin, a bone-deep realization shattered through the haze—this was real, and she was gone.

Then you heard hurried footsteps, and Caitlyn appeared, eyes wide with shock, horror painted across her features. She froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the devastation around her. But beneath the surface, there was something else—something darker. As her gaze landed on your mother’s body, disbelief washed over her, and she staggered back, nearly collapsing.

“Mom! No!” Caitlyn cried, her voice cracking as she knelt beside your mother. Tears streamed down her face as she gently shook her shoulder, desperation etched across her features. “Wake up! Please… you can’t leave us like this!, mom please!”

For a moment, it seemed she might break under the weight of her grief. But then her gaze snapped to you, fury igniting in her eyes. “Y-You did this!” she shouted, her voice slicing through the air like a knife as she stood up. “You chose that bitch over us! You couldn’t see it, could you? You were too busy chasing after a lost cause!”

“Caitlyn, I—” you started, but she cut you off, advancing toward you, anger radiating off her like heat from a fire.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?” Her fists clenched, trembling with rage. “You had a family who loved you, who wanted to protect you. I loved you, more than anything, and you threw it all away for a girl who’s nothing but a psycho! You think this is love? Look where your choices got us!”

“I didn’t know!” you cried, the reality of your decisions crashing down on you. “I thought I could help her! I thought I could make her see!”

“See what?” Caitlyn’s voice rose higher, piercing your heart with every word. “That she’s a monster? You think she cares about you? Look at what she’s done!”

“I didn’t want this! I never wanted any of this!” you shouted back, tears streaming down your face. “If I had just listened—”

“Exactly! If you had listened!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, emotion spilling over. “But you were too caught up in your fantasy! You think she loves you? All she’s ever done is use you! And now look at what it’s cost us!”

“Stop!” you yelled, feeling the walls close in around you. “You don’t understand! I was wrong! I thought we could be happy together!”

“Happiness?” Caitlyn scoffed, bitter laughter spilling from her lips but the tears never stoped. “You think you could find happiness with someone like her? You’re delusional! This is your fault! You’ve destroyed everything!”

“No, Caitlyn! I loved her! I thought I could save her! I thought I could prove them all wrong!” You were sobbing now, every word heavy with regret. “I didn’t think—”

“Of course, you didn’t think! You never do!” Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes blazing with fury. “You only think about yourself and your stupid feelings! You’ve ruined our family because you couldn’t keep your head on straight!”

“Don’t say that!” You felt a fire ignite within you, fueled by your pain and loss. “You don’t know anything about love! You think pushing me away would have kept me safe? You just wanted to control me, to make me into someone I’m not!”

“Control?” Caitlyn laughed again, but it was a hollow sound. “You think I wanted to control you? I wanted to protect you! But you were too blinded by your infatuation to see it! And now—” Her voice broke, and for a moment, you saw the hurt beneath her anger. “Now, we’re all paying the price. You played your part in moms murder and you know it”

You choked on a sob, the weight of her words crushing you. “I never wanted to hurt anyone! I thought we could find a way to make it work! I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand what?” Caitlyn shouted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That you chose her over your own family? That you let her drag you down with her? You think she cares about you? You think she’s worth this?”

“Stop! Please stop!” you screamed, feeling the pain radiate through your chest. “You don’t know what it’s like! I thought she could be good! I thought I could be her light!”

“Light?” Caitlyn spat, the venom in her voice cutting deep. “You were just another toy for her to play with! You’ve wasted everything, and for what? For someone who will never change, for some piece of shit that killed our mother?”

“I was trying to save her!” you shouted, the realization crashing down on you. “I thought I could save her, but now... now I see what I’ve done! I swear Cait just please forgive me, i can't lose you two!, please Cait” your voice broked as you whispered the last sentence.

Caitlyn stepped back, her face pale, disappointment etched into her features. “It’s too late for that now. You’ve lost everything, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this.”

The silence that followed was deafening, each of you standing amidst the wreckage of your family, the ruins of your love, and the body of the one person who had always believed in you. You felt hollow, the pain cutting deeper than any blade. Your sister’s words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of the choices you had made and the lives that were now forever altered.

And as you both just looked at each other, the weight of your shared grief hung heavy in the air, a chasm between you that felt impossible to bridge. You had sacrificed so much for love, and yet, all you had left was the realization that in chasing after Jinx, you had lost everything that truly mattered.

The memories of laughter, warmth, and the comforting presence of your mother felt like a distant echo, now shadowed by the haunting truth of her absence. You closed your eyes, tilting your head down, trying to hold onto the fragments of those fleeting moments—her voice guiding you through life, the way her smile lit up your mood when everything felt like it was falling apart.

But now, every recollection was tinged with regret. You had followed a path paved with devotion to Jinx, believing it would lead to happiness. Instead, it had brought you to this desolate place, a barren landscape where love had turned to ashes. The bright flame of your passion had flickered out, leaving behind only the heavy smoke of loss.

You had given up everything, and for what? A chaotic whirlwind of emotions that left you empty.

In that moment of despair, you understood that love, while beautiful, could also be a cruel trick. You had thought you were strong enough to carry it all, but now you felt like a shell of the person you once were, lost in grief and heartache.

The silence around you was deafening, filled only with the echoes of your sorrow. And as the tears fell freely, you were left to confront the truth—some sacrifices were too great, and in the end, love could sometimes lead to a loss that felt insurmountable.

The silence around you was deafening, filled only with the echoes of your sorrow. As the tears fell freely, you felt the burden of the truth pressing down on you like a heavy weight—some sacrifices were too great, and in the end, love could sometimes lead to a loss that felt insurmountable.

Through the haze of your grief, a thought pierced the fog. You looked at Caitlyn, your heart aching with a mix of desperation and fear. “Caitlyn… am I going to Stillwater?” The question hung in the air, fragile and raw, reflecting the uncertainty that had taken root in your chest.

Caitlyn’s expression shifted, caught between sorrow and something darker. “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice low. “After everything... I don’t know what they’ll decide.”

The words felt like a cold slap against your skin. “But I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought I could fix things.” You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “I thought I could save her.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before,” Caitlyn said, the sharpness of her words cutting deep. “You had a choice, and you chose her. Now we all have to deal with the consequences.”

Your heart sank further at her words, but you couldn’t shake the fear clawing at your insides. “Caitlyn, please. I can’t go to Stillwater. I can't lose you too!” The plea spilled from your lips, desperate and raw.

She turned away, her shoulders trembling. “You already lost me. You made your choice.”

As you watched her walk away, a hollow feeling settled in your chest, the chasm between you two feeling unfixable. You had sacrificed everything for love, yet in the end, it was you who stood alone, lost amidst the ruins of your choices.

In that moment of despair, you understood the cruel irony: love, while beautiful, could also be a devastating force, leaving only ashes in its wake. And as you hold beside your mother’s lifeless body, the reality of your situation bore down on you like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable.

You had chased after a dream, only to awaken to the nightmare of your actions—a nightmare that now threatened to swallow you whole.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx x y/n #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx posting #jinx league of legends #jinx smut #jinx lol #caitlyn kiramman

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kiwriteswords · 1 month ago

Note

more bombshell reader and maybe jealous hotch!!

Something in the Way She Moves

Masterlist || Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Bombshell Female Reader||Word Count: 20k!!

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, spoilers/mentions of past character's death(s), hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, breakups, forbidden romance, smut, sex without protection, yearning Hotch, Reader is Hotch's Boss, holidays, Reader has hair, cheating if you squint (not on each other; not Reader on/by Hotch), mentions of alcohol at social setting, bombshell reader, possessive Hotch, jealous reader

Sypnosis: As the new section chief of the BAU, you’re determined to lead with professionalism—despite an undeniable connection with Aaron Hotchner, the stoic unit chief who understands you like no one else. When your growing romance draws scrutiny from the Bureau and threatens both your careers, breaking things off feels like the only choice. But resisting your feelings is easier said than done, and navigating the fallout proves more complicated—and personal—than either of you anticipated.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in rules. They provided structure, a way to ensure order in the chaos of the world he inhabited daily. He lived by them—until you walked back into his life.

When you first stepped into Erin Strauss’ old office as the new Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Aaron had already known you would get the job. Not because you were an excellent candidate, though that was undeniable, but because he had written the letter of recommendation that tipped the scales. He’d been the one to argue your case, to convince the higher-ups that your tactical mind, people skills, and years of leadership in the Child Abduction and Serial Killer Unit made you the right choice.

He knew he couldn’t take on the job himself. He didn’t want to sacrifice his time in the field or more time away from Jack. Things with Beth had just mutually ended, and he knew now wasn’t time for a big change in his career. His team needed stability, too. He knew where to find it for them. He couldn’t think of a better boss for himself or his team.

But what Aaron hadn’t expected was how your presence would shift the ground beneath his feet.

From day one, you were everything he remembered—commanding, intelligent, and stunning. But there was a new energy to you now. Your style was impeccable, all sharp lines and elegance, yet undeniably bold. You wore heels that clicked purposefully against the tiled floors, and your perfume lingered just long enough to be distracting. Every room you entered turned its attention to you, though you never seemed to revel in it. You worked hard—harder than anyone—but also knew how to treat yourself. Aaron admired that, envied it even.

And then there was the personal side, the one you didn’t show many. The way you smiled when you spoke about your niece’s upcoming recital. The way your laugh, a warm and genuine sound, filled the briefing room when someone cracked a joke. You were extra, yes—extravagant even—but never entitled. You could be sharp-tongued and exacting, but you were also kind and humble. You never asked anyone for anything you wouldn’t provide for yourself.

You were a paradox, and Aaron found himself drawn to you more every day.

The first time the two of you crossed the line, it had been... unplanned.

It was late, the kind of late where the bullpen was empty except for the faint hum of desk lamps and the rhythmic clicks of Aaron typing. You had come down from your office, a mug of tea in your hand and a softness to your expression he rarely saw as you popped into his opened door.

“You’re still here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he replied, looking up from his laptop as you perched on the edge of his desk.

The conversation started as work but soon meandered. Aaron had always valued your opinion, and it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to linger over cases. But that night, as the hours stretched on, there was a shift.

“I’ve always admired your dedication,” you said quietly, your gaze steady on him.

“Thank you,” Aaron replied, his throat tightening.

“And the way you fought for me to get this position... Aaron, it means more than you know.”

There was a vulnerability in your voice, a crack in the armor you so carefully maintained. Aaron wasn’t sure what compelled him, but before he could second-guess it, his hand covered yours where it rested on his desk.

That simple touch was all it took to change everything.

Weeks passed before either of you acknowledged what was happening. It started innocently enough—a lingering glance across the briefing room, the brush of hands when passing files, the way your voices softened when it was just the two of you. But it didn’t take long for the connection to deepen, slipping past the professional boundaries you had so carefully constructed.

Aaron would find himself texting you late at night, ostensibly to discuss case details, but the conversations often veered into personal territory. It wouldn’t take long until you crossed the boundary, deciding the messages weren’t enough phone calls were needed. He learned that you hated mornings but loved the ritual of your complicated coffee orders, that you missed the simplicity of fieldwork but thrived in your new role because it gave you a broader sense of impact. You learned that he still struggled with guilt over Haley, that he missed spending more time with Jack but refused to let his son see his father falter.

The shift wasn’t dramatic, but it was undeniable. The way you looked at him during meetings lingered too long, your gaze softening when you thought no one else was watching. The way he always stood a little closer to you than necessary, catching your perfume—an elegant mix of jasmine and citrus—that lingered long after you walked away. The stolen moments became something he craved, something he couldn’t ignore.

Aaron knew it was wrong—or, at the very least, complicated. But the way you saw him, truly saw him, made it impossible to stay away. Aaron had met a lot of people in his life, nobody who completely saw him. It was almost as if he spent his whole life searching for it, for it to be looking him in the face all of these years.

The first time he kissed you, it was in your office.

You were pacing, heels clicking against the polished floor, your tailored suit jacket hanging neatly on the back of your chair. The soft silk blouse you wore glimmered faintly in the dim light, catching his attention more than it should have.

“Can you believe this?” you muttered, gesturing toward the papers on your desk. “A dozen forms to approve before tomorrow, as if I don’t already have enough to do. And the Director wants an update on—”

“Stop,” Aaron interrupted gently, his deep voice cutting through your frustration.

You froze mid-stride, turning to face him. Your expression softened slightly, but your eyes—those piercing, calculating eyes that could read anyone in a heartbeat—searched his face for answers.

“What is it, Aaron?” you asked the edge in your tone melting into something warmer.

He stood from the chair opposite your desk, his broad shoulders and crisp suit making him seem even taller in the small space.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm.

Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering across your features. “Do what?”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locked on yours, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

“Pretend that I don’t want more.”

For a moment, the air between you stilled, charged with an unspoken tension that had been building for weeks. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, you tilted your head, studying him with the same intensity you reserved for interrogations.

And then your free hand moved, reaching up to curl into his tie, the silk fabric slipping easily between your fingers. You tugged gently, pulling him toward you, your breath mingling with his.

“Aaron,” you murmured, a faint warning still lingering in your tone.

But he didn’t stop. His hand rose to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, impossibly soft, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything so grounding.

The kiss started tentative, almost hesitant, but the moment your lips met, it shattered whatever walls remained between you. You leaned into him, your other hand finding its way to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath the crisp cotton of his shirt. His other hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the curve of your hip, steadying you as you deepened the kiss.

You tasted like mint and something sweet, and Aaron thought he might be losing his mind. The world outside your office door ceased to exist; there was only you, your warmth, your intoxicating presence.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and your breathing uneven. His tie was slightly askew, and your fingers still clutched it loosely as if unsure whether to let go.

“Well,” you said, your voice teasing but laced with something raw, something real. “That’s one way to solve a bureaucratic nightmare.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his forehead resting briefly against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, though he didn’t look it. He certainly didn’t feel it.

“Don’t be,” you replied, your fingers brushing the lapel of his jacket. “Just... don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady.

And he meant it. Whatever came next, whatever complications or consequences arose, Aaron knew one thing for certain: this—you—was worth it.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to let himself indulge—not in anything that wasn’t for Jack, at least. His life revolved around necessity and function, keeping his head above water while ensuring those around him could do the same. Haley and Beth had been simple…these minor things didn’t appeal to them. But with you, indulgence didn’t feel frivolous. It felt... right.

The kiss had been a turning point. It wasn’t just the line crossed—it was the invitation to something more. After that moment in your office, there was no going back. Within days, the two of you had quietly shifted from colleagues to something undeniably personal. By the end of the first week, Aaron had asked you out, and to his surprise, you’d agreed without hesitation.

Your first date had been dinner at a small but elegant restaurant nestled in the heart of Georgetown. Aaron had chosen the spot carefully—upscale enough to meet your polished tastes but intimate enough to keep prying eyes at bay.

“I have to admit,” you’d said over a glass of sauvignon blanc, “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to keep up with me.”

Aaron had raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Keep up with you how?”

Your expression had turned playful, your eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Let’s just say I’ve been accused of having... expensive taste.”

Aaron had leaned back in his chair, swirling his whiskey casually. “You think I don’t know that by now?” he teased. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who insisted on a specific brand of bottled water for office meetings.”

“That’s called maintaining standards,” you countered with mock indignation.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Don’t worry. I might be frugal, but I’m not struggling. And I like to spoil the people I care about.”

The admission had caught you off guard, he could tell. Your confident demeanor had faltered just enough for him to notice, and for a moment, you’d looked down at your glass, your smile softer. “Well,” you’d said finally, meeting his gaze again, “I won’t complain about that.”

By the time you’d gone on a few dates, Aaron found himself more at ease with the idea of what you were becoming. It wasn’t just the shared dinners, the quiet moments in the corners of bars, or the back seats of dimly lit movie theaters. It was the way you fit into his life so seamlessly. Despite your differences—you with your love of extravagance and meticulous planning and him with his pragmatic approach and quiet restraint—you balanced each other.

You worked well together, too. Surprisingly well. If anything, your meticulous attention to detail and unrelenting standards had only strengthened the BAU. Aaron had always considered himself by the book, but compared to you, he realized he could be downright lenient.

“You’re more Type A than I am,” he commented one night after a case briefing, leaning against the doorframe of your office.

You glanced up from your perfectly organized desk, where every file was stacked at precise right angles. “Is that your way of saying I’m bossy?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his tone teasing. “I’m saying you’re by-the-book to a fault. It’s impressive, really.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Says the man who color-codes his case files.”

“Touché,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I don’t panic at the thought of bending the rules when necessary.”

Your expression sobered slightly, and Aaron noticed the way your hands stilled over the papers in front of you. “I just... I don’t want to give anyone a reason to question me—or us.”

Ah. There it was.

“You’re worried about telling the Director,” Aaron said, stepping further into the room.

Your silence was answer enough.

Aaron sat on the edge of your desk, his presence grounding. “Things are going well,” he said firmly. “The team respects you. Cases are running smoothly. We work together seamlessly. There’s no reason for anyone to take issue with this—unless we give them one.”

You looked up at him, your expression vulnerable in a way few ever saw. “But what if they do? What if they say it’s inappropriate or unprofessional? I could lose this position, Aaron.”

He reached for your hand, covering it with his. The touch was gentle, but his grip steady, reassuring. “You won’t lose it. You’ve earned this. No one can take that from you.”

“But what about you?” you asked quietly. “If this affects your place on the team...”

“I won’t let it,” Aaron said with conviction. “We’ve handled worse than bureaucratic red tape. Besides, I think the Director has bigger problems than two senior members of the BAU in a consensual, functional relationship.”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Functional, huh? That’s romantic.”

Aaron smirked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

You shook your head, your laughter soft but genuine. “I don’t know how you stay so calm about this.”

“Because I’ve spent my life trying to control everything,” he admitted. “And I’ve learned the hard way that some things are worth the risk.”

Your gaze lingered on his, the weight of his words settling between you. And for the first time since this all began, Aaron saw the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice steady. “We’ll tell the Director. Together.”

Aaron nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Together.”

In that moment, as the two of you sat in the quiet comfort of your shared understanding, Aaron knew one thing for certain: whatever the future held, you were worth it. Every risk, every consequence—you were worth it.

Aaron Hotchner had walked into more high-pressure situations than he could count. Interrogating unsubs. Negotiating with armed suspects. Delivering heartbreaking news to grieving families. But as he sat outside the Director’s office with you beside him, he felt a knot in his stomach that rivaled even the most tense of standoffs.

You sat with your legs crossed, your polished heel bouncing ever so slightly—a nervous tick Aaron had come to recognize. You were dressed impeccably, as always, your tailored blazer sharp enough to cut through steel. But Aaron knew you well enough to see the tension in the way you smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from your skirt or adjusted your necklace.

He reached over, his hand brushing yours lightly. “We’ll be fine,” he said quietly, his voice low enough not to carry.

You turned your head, offering him a small smile, but the doubt in your eyes was unmistakable.

Before he could say more, the assistant opened the door. “The Director will see you now.”

The Director’s office was a testament to order and authority. Every book on the shelves was carefully aligned, the awards and commendations behind the desk displayed with precision. Aaron Hotchner had sat across from this desk many times, but today, the air felt heavier. He wasn’t just representing his team or defending a decision. Today was personal.

The Director greeted them with a curt nod, gesturing for them to sit. Aaron glanced at you as you settled into the chair beside him, your posture immaculate, your gaze steady. He knew the nerves beneath the surface were hidden behind that calm, polished exterior.

“You wanted to discuss something... personal,” the Director said, leaning back slightly, his hands folded on the desk.

Aaron cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir. We wanted to inform you about our relationship.”

The Director’s eyebrows rose slightly, but his face remained unreadable. He waited, prompting Aaron to continue.

“We’ve been seeing each other for some time now. We’ve taken every precaution to ensure it doesn’t interfere with our work or the team’s performance. Cases continue to run smoothly, and morale remains high. We believe—”

The Director raised a hand, signaling for Aaron to stop.

Aaron exchanged a brief glance with you. The air seemed to grow heavier.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the Director said, his voice even, almost sympathetic. “But this isn’t acceptable.”

You leaned forward slightly, your tone measured but firm. “With all due respect, sir, we’ve maintained professionalism at all times. There has been no impact on the team’s dynamics or efficiency.”

The Director sighed and leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but resolute. “This isn’t about professionalism or efficiency, though I trust that both of you believe you’ve kept those intact. It’s about perception. The BAU is already under a microscope. The media, oversight committees, politicians—they’re all waiting for any reason to scrutinize this unit further.”

Aaron shifted in his seat. “Sir, we’ve handled public scrutiny before. We’ve worked under immense pressure and still delivered results. I believe—”

“You believe,” the Director interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “But this is not about what you believe or how well you perform. It’s about how this looks. Two of the highest-ranking members in the same unit, in a romantic relationship? It opens doors for questions about bias, favoritism, and poor judgment.”

You stiffened slightly, and Aaron could feel the tension radiating from you.

“We’ve had to address optics before,” the Director continued, his tone less stern and more weary. “When Erin Strauss was here, we allowed too much to slide—her personal struggles, her decisions that created friction within the team. It put the BAU in a precarious position, one we barely recovered from. And now, with our history, with every move under scrutiny, I can’t let this slide. Not again.”

Aaron pressed his lips into a thin line, forcing himself to remain composed. “Sir, neither of us would let this compromise our responsibilities. Our records speak for themselves.”

The Director nodded slowly. “They do, Hotchner. Both of you have impeccable records, and I trust your intentions. But this isn’t about trust. It’s about precedent. If I allow this, what message does it send? That personal relationships among senior staff are acceptable? That the rules don’t apply here?”

You spoke next, your voice calm but resolute. “We’re not asking for special treatment. We’re asking for acknowledgment that this doesn’t interfere with our ability to lead.”

The Director exhaled, his tone softening. “I understand what you’re saying. And if the world operated on logic alone, I might agree. But the reality is perception matters. The BAU is too visible, too scrutinized. I can’t allow this.”

“What are you saying?” Aaron asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I’m saying one of you has to transfer, or this relationship ends,” the Director said evenly. “Those are your options. I won’t dictate which path you choose, but this arrangement cannot continue while you’re both in these positions.”

The finality in his tone hit like a cold wind. Aaron’s fists clenched in his lap, though his face remained impassive. Beside him, he could feel you bristling but holding yourself together.

“Is there any room for reconsideration?” you asked, your voice level but tight.

The Director shook his head. “I wish there were. I respect both of you immensely. But this is a line we can’t afford to cross.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“I can draft up some reccomendsations for units to transfer,” he continued, “But I’d warn you, that may put a bigger target on your back with the brass.”

“Is that all, sir?” you asked finally, your voice sharper than you likely intended.

“That’s all,” the Director replied, his tone tinged with something almost regretful.

The Director’s words still echoed in Aaron Hotchner’s ears as you stormed out of the office, your heels clicking sharply against the tile floor. Aaron trailed behind you, his thoughts spinning, barely registering the brisk pace you set.

When you reached the bullpen, you didn’t stop. You headed straight for the stairs that led to the upper offices, bypassing your usual elevator ride. Aaron hesitated for a moment before following, his long strides catching up to you as you pushed through the door to your private office and let it slam shut behind you.

For a moment, Aaron stood outside, his hand hovering near the doorknob. He could hear you moving inside—papers rustling, a muffled sigh, the creak of your chair as you sat heavily into it. He took a breath and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you stared at your desk, your hands resting on its polished surface as if grounding yourself. Your jaw was tight, your expression unreadable, but Aaron had known you long enough to see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“This is ridiculous,” you said finally, your voice low but trembling with barely contained frustration. “We’ve done everything right. Everything. And it still doesn’t matter.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. What could he say that wouldn’t feel hollow? That he agreed? That he hated the situation just as much as you did? None of it would change the reality bearing down on both of you.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly, though the words felt inadequate even as he spoke them.

Your head snapped up, your eyes blazing as they met his. “How, Aaron? How do we figure this out? Do I transfer? Do you? Do we just pretend we’re fine with throwing everything away?”

Aaron opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He’d been in impossible situations before—ones where no option felt right, but he had to choose anyway. This time, though, the stakes felt different. He wasn’t deciding a case, balancing strategy and risk. He was standing on the precipice of losing something he hadn’t even realized he needed until it was almost too late.

When you finally looked away, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the conversation, Aaron allowed himself a moment to think. To really think.

He imagined what it would mean to leave. Retiring from fieldwork had crossed his mind before—Jack was growing up fast, and Aaron had often wondered if he was missing too much. But the idea of stepping into a more conservative role, away from the pulse of the work, left a hollow ache in his chest.

And then there was you. He thought of you sacrificing your position, giving up this incredible opportunity that you had earned through sheer determination and talent. The thought twisted his stomach.

Aaron couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t let another person give up so much of themselves for his job. He had promised himself, after Haley, that he wouldn’t let his work consume anyone else. That was why he had let Beth go so easily when she wanted more for herself and her career.

But you weren’t Haley or Beth. You were different. You were his equal, his match in every way that mattered. And yet, the guilt and shame of letting you make that kind of sacrifice—for him, for them—was unbearable.

“You shouldn’t have to leave,” Aaron said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but the weight behind the words was impossible to miss.

You looked at him sharply. “And you think you should?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I can’t ask you to give this up. I won’t.”

Your hands curled into fists on the desk, and Aaron saw the flicker of pain in your eyes before you looked away. “So what? We just... stop?”

Aaron exhaled slowly, his heart aching at the rawness in your voice. “I don’t want to,” he said honestly. “But maybe it’s what’s best.”

Your laugh was bitter, your head shaking. “Best for who? Them? The optics? Certainly not us.”

Aaron stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of your desk. “It’s not fair,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze. “None of this is. But if we keep fighting this, it could hurt the team. It could hurt you. And I can’t live with that.”

Your eyes glistened, but you blinked quickly, refusing to let tears fall. “So that’s it? We just... agree to walk away?”

Aaron’s throat tightened. “I don’t want to,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I think we have to.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, suffocating as if the weight of what you were agreeing to was pressing down on both of you at once.

Finally, you stood, your movements slow and deliberate. You rounded the desk, stopping just in front of him.

“Do you really think this is the right thing to do?” you asked, your voice cracking just enough to betray the strength you were trying to hold on to.

“No,” Aaron admitted, his own voice hoarse. “But I think it’s the only thing we can do.”

The words hung in the air like a final verdict, sealing something neither of you wanted to face.

When you stepped closer, your hand resting lightly on his chest, Aaron’s heart broke a little more. He covered your hand with his, holding it there for a moment as if trying to memorize the feeling.

“I hate this,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his one last time. He didn’t miss the tears beginning to well in them. It was instinct to want to look away, it was a sight too painful to unsee, but he found himself still looking through to you.

“So do I,” he replied, his voice raw.

And then, as you stepped back and let your hand fall away, Aaron felt the loss like a physical blow—a kick to the knees. You walked past him, your steps unsteady but resolute.

He didn’t turn to watch you leave. He couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, alone in your office, knowing that this decision—the right one, the necessary one—was going to haunt him for a long time.

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest Aaron Hotchner had endured, and that was saying something. He had always prided himself on compartmentalizing, on keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. But this—you—made that impossible.

The day after the decision, you had returned to work with the same polished professionalism you always displayed. Your suit was impeccable, your tone measured, and your focus sharp. But Aaron saw the cracks beneath the surface. He saw the way your eyes avoided his during meetings, the way your smiles—rare as they were now—never reached your eyes.

And it wasn’t just you. Aaron could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, a constant ache in his chest that no amount of distraction could dull. He would catch himself looking at you across the bullpen, remembering how it felt to have you close, to hear you laugh in those unguarded moments. The memories were like splinters—small, sharp reminders of what he’d lost.

He wondered if it were some sort of sick joke. That once again, here he was, Aaron Hotchner choosing the job over what was right in front of him.

The team picked up on it quickly, though they didn’t understand the cause at first.

“Something’s off,” Morgan said one afternoon, leaning against Aaron’s office door.

Aaron didn’t look up from the file in front of him. “What do you mean?”

Morgan shrugged, his casual demeanor belying the concern in his eyes. “You and her,” he said, nodding toward your office. “I don’t know... You two used to be so in sync. Now it’s like there’s this... distance.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “We’re fine. Just busy.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press further. Still, Aaron knew the others had noticed it too. Reid’s hesitant glances during meetings, JJ’s subtle attempts to smooth over the tension, and even Garcia’s uncharacteristic silence when she addressed the two of you.

The pain of working together was a constant, gnawing ache. Every interaction felt like walking a tightrope, balancing professionalism with the unspoken emotions neither of you could completely hide.

During briefings, Aaron found himself hyper-aware of you. The way you avoided sitting too close. The way your voice would falter, just slightly, when addressing him directly. It was subtle, so subtle that no one outside the team would notice. But Aaron noticed.

You rarely joined the team in the field, but you were more present than Strauss’ constant absence due to her dislike of fieldwork when in your role. Even in the field, the strain was palpable. The easy rhythm you had once shared was gone, replaced by clipped exchanges and a formality that felt wrong coming from you.

“You’re clear on the approach?” Aaron asked during one such mission, his voice firm but hollow.

You nodded, your tone equally curt. “I am.”

It was efficient. Professional. Everything it needed to be. But it wasn’t you. At least not the you he knew.

The worst moments came in the quiet, in the spaces between the chaos. Late nights at the BAU, when the rest of the team had gone home and the building was quiet. Sometimes, Aaron would catch a glimpse of you in your office, the light from your desk lamp casting long shadows across your face. He wanted to go to you, to break the silence and bridge the gap, but he never did.

One night, as he packed up to leave, he saw you sitting at your desk, your head in your hands. You didn’t notice him watching, and for a brief moment, he considered walking in, saying something—anything. But then you straightened, brushing a hand through your hair, and the moment passed.

Aaron turned away, the pit in his stomach growing heavier with each step he took toward the exit.

The team never said anything outright, but Aaron could feel their unease. They didn’t know the details—didn’t know that the two of you had once been something more, or how close you had come to risking everything to stay that way. But they felt the shift.

JJ tried to smooth things over with small acts of kindness—bringing coffee, lightening the mood in meetings. Morgan watched both of you with quiet curiosity, his usual teasing replaced by a patience Aaron hadn’t expected. Even Garcia, ever perceptive, gave him a long, searching look one day before sighing and saying, “You know, you can talk to us, right? About anything.”

Aaron had nodded, offering a faint smile he didn’t feel. “Thanks, Garcia.”

Months passed, and the ache dulled, but it never went away. Aaron learned to live with it, to bury it beneath the weight of his responsibilities. He told himself it was the right decision, the only decision, but there were moments—late at night, when the silence was deafening—when he let himself imagine what could have been.

And you—he could see it in your eyes, the way you carried the same weight. You were just as professional, just as efficient, but there was a sadness in you now that hadn’t been there before. It mirrored his own, and that was perhaps the hardest part of all.

You were both doing what you thought was best. And it was killing you.

The bullpen was unusually quiet when Aaron Hotchner stepped out of his office. His team was gathered around JJ’s desk, their conversation hushed but animated. The moment his presence registered, they all straightened slightly, trying to appear busy.

Aaron didn’t buy it for a second.

“Morgan. JJ,” he said, his tone even but curious as he descended the steps. “What’s going on?”

JJ exchanged a quick look with Morgan before speaking. “Oh, uh, nothing, Hotch. Just catching up on some... Quantico gossip.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. Gossip wasn’t something his team typically indulged in—not during work hours, at least. “What kind of gossip?”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flash of discomfort crossing his face. “The kind that probably shouldn’t leave the locker room, but since it’s about someone we all know... it didn’t sit right with me.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he stopped a few feet from the group. “Who?”

Morgan hesitated, glancing at the others. Emily crossed her arms, her expression skeptical but intrigued, while Penelope fidgeted, clearly torn between curiosity and concern.

“Look,” Morgan started, his tone careful, “it’s about…You know—”

Aaron’s stomach sank. He didn’t need Morgan to say your name to know exactly who he meant.

“Go on,” Aaron said, his voice clipped but controlled.

Morgan sighed, leaning against the desk. “JJ and I were at the gym downstairs yesterday. I was in the locker room, and I heard some guy—one of the suits from Finance, I think—talking about her.”

Aaron’s chest tightened as Morgan continued.

“He was bragging about how they’ve been... seeing each other,” Morgan said, his expression darkening. “But the way he was talking—man, it was gross. Like, disrespectful. He was sexualizing her in a way that made my skin crawl.”

JJ chimed in, her voice tinged with frustration. “He called her a ‘great ass with brains’—as if that’s all she is. Then he made some comment about how lucky he was to have caught her attention.”

Aaron’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I told him to knock it off,” Morgan said, his tone sharp. “Told him it wasn’t cool to talk about her like that—especially in a damn locker room, where anyone could hear.”

Penelope’s mouth fell open, her indignation bubbling to the surface. “You’re kidding me. He said that in the locker room? What kind of—ugh! Men are the worst sometimes.”

Emily smirked faintly, her voice dry as she added, “Not all men. Just most.”

Rossi, who had been quiet up until now, leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. “So she’s seeing this guy? Or is he just running his mouth?”

Morgan shrugged. “Couldn’t say for sure. But he seemed pretty confident.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He could feel the team’s eyes on him, but he refused to let his expression betray the storm brewing inside.

“Hotch,” JJ said gently, her voice pulling him back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Aaron said curtly. “But I need to remind all of you that gossip—about anyone—isn’t appropriate here. If there’s a problem, it needs to be addressed through the proper channels.”

The team exchanged glances, but no one pushed further.

Aaron returned to his office, closing the door behind him with a bit more force than necessary. He sank into his chair, staring at the stack of files on his desk without really seeing them.

The idea of you seeing someone else didn’t sit well with him. Not because you didn’t deserve happiness—you did, more than anyone. But because the thought of you with someone who didn’t appreciate you, who reduced you to nothing more than your appearance or used you as a bragging point, made his blood boil.

He hated the way that man in the locker room had spoken about you. Hated that it had happened at all.

And yet, there was something else eating at him. Something sharper, more selfish.

Jealousy.

The idea that you might have moved on—might have found comfort in someone else’s arms—cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He had no right to feel this way. The two of you had made your decision, painful as it was, and he had to live with it. But knowing you might be with someone else, hearing those crude words about you... it was unbearable.

Aaron rubbed a hand over his face, willing himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment. Not now. Not ever.

But as he sat there, the words from the locker room replaying in his mind, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that he had let you go too soon. Too easily.

And it was killing him.

Time had a way of dulling pain, or so Aaron Hotchner told himself. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. The ache of what had been and what could never be dulled into something he carried silently, like an old injury that flared up when the weather changed. But it never went away.

And then he found out for certain.

He hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation—it was the kind of thing he normally tuned out. But as he passed by the kitchen in the Quantico building, he caught the tail end of a conversation between two agents from a different unit, their voices low but not low enough.

“Yeah, they’ve been going out for a while now,” one said, his tone carrying an unmistakable edge of smugness. “I can’t believe he managed to lock her down. She’s way out of his league.”

The other laughed. “I heard she’s really something. Smart, gorgeous, the whole package. Lucky bastard.”

Aaron didn’t need to hear your name to know exactly who they were talking about.

He found himself sitting in his office later that day, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. The words on the page blurred together, his focus shattered.

You were seeing him—the man from Finance. The one Morgan had overheard in the locker room, the one who had spoken about you like you were nothing more than a conquest.

Aaron’s jaw tightened, and his chest ached with something that felt dangerously close to regret. He hated the thought of you with someone who didn’t truly see you—who didn’t appreciate the sharpness of your mind, the strength in your character, the way you carried yourself with grace and confidence even under the heaviest burdens.

And yet, what right did he have to feel this way?

You had every right to move on. Every right to find happiness where you could. It wasn’t your fault that he couldn’t shake the lingering shadow of what the two of you had shared—or what might have been if things had been different.

As the weeks dragged on, Aaron tried to bury himself in his work. He tried not to notice the way you laughed at something someone said in the bullpen or the way your eyes lit up during a briefing when an idea struck you. He tried not to think about the nights you spent with someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

And then Beth called.

It had been months since they’d last spoken, her name long buried in the recesses of his mind. But there she was, her voice warm and familiar, asking how he was, how Jack was if he might want to grab coffee sometime.

Aaron hesitated.

He thought of you—of the distance that had grown between you, the way your conversations were now stilted and professional, the warmth that used to linger between you replaced by a polite coolness. He thought of the man from Finance, the way his name had crept into conversations around the office, always tied to you.

Maybe it was time, Aaron thought. If you had moved on, maybe he should too.

He met Beth for coffee and then for dinner. She was as kind and understanding as he remembered, her smile easy, her company pleasant. But something was missing.

With you, there had been a fire—a spark that made every conversation electric, every glance charged with something unspoken. With Beth, it was different. Comfortable but muted.

Still, Aaron told himself it was the right thing to do. Jack liked her, and she was good to him. Maybe this was what he needed—a reminder of what it felt like to let someone in, to have a life outside the walls of the BAU.

But no matter how much he tried, Aaron couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going through the motions. He couldn’t stop himself from comparing every moment with Beth to the moments he’d shared with you.

When Beth laughed, it wasn’t your laugh. When she reached for his hand, it didn’t feel the same as when you had pulled him close in the quiet of your office.

And every time he saw you in the hallways of Quantico or across the table during a case briefing, that ache in his chest flared anew.

Aaron knew he had made his choice. He had chosen to let you go, to protect the work and the team, to do what he thought was right. And now, he was trying to live with that choice, even as it slowly unraveled him from the inside.

But as he sat in his office late one night, the bullpen quiet and empty, Aaron allowed himself a single, fleeting moment of honesty.

He had moved on.

But not really.

Because a part of him—the part he tried to bury beneath duty and responsibility—would always belong to you.

Aaron Hotchner sat at the head of the conference table, scanning the stack of case files in front of him as the team settled into their usual seats. The murmur of conversation drifted around the room—Morgan and Emily debating the odds of another late-night call, Penelope slipping a fresh report to Reid, Rossi sipping a coffee that smelled distinctly stronger than the usual bullpen brew.

You entered last, heels clicking sharply against the tile floor as you carried yourself with the effortless confidence Aaron admired. You placed your tablet on the table and glanced around the room, your polished demeanor demanding attention without a single word.

“Before we get into case updates,” you began, your voice calm but firm, “I wanted to bring something to everyone’s attention.”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, already anticipating the shift in focus. You had a way of setting the room’s tone that even Rossi respected, and your next words proved no different.

“As most of you know,” you continued, your gaze sweeping across the team, “the Bureau’s annual holiday party is coming up. And while I’m well aware that the BAU has a reputation for... skipping it, I feel this year it’s important that we all make an effort to attend.”

That got their attention. Emily’s eyebrows lifted, Morgan tilted his chair back with an incredulous grin, and Penelope froze mid-sip of her elaborately decorated coffee.

“Come on,” Morgan said, his tone half-teasing. “You can’t be serious. You know those parties are all stiff handshakes and bad speeches.”

You smiled faintly, unruffled. “I’m very serious, Morgan. This isn’t about the party itself—it’s about the message it sends.”

Aaron noticed the way you paused, your gaze flickering briefly in his direction before continuing. “After the last few years, it’s important that we show the brass that we’re aligned with their expectations. It demonstrates that we care about appearances and that we’re just as invested in maintaining relationships as they are.”

There it was. A subtle but unmistakable reminder of why things between you and Aaron could never be, woven seamlessly into a broader point that the rest of the team couldn’t grasp fully.

Morgan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You mean to tell me we’re going to this thing to rub elbows with suits who don’t know what we actually do out here?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” you replied, your tone calm but edged with authority. “Appearances matter. And it’s our job to ensure those appearances align with the professionalism the BAU stands for.”

Aaron watched as the words settled over the team, their expressions shifting from mild amusement to begrudging understanding. You had a way of cutting through their resistance without belittling them—a skill Aaron had always admired.

“Plus,” you added, a faint smile tugging at your lips, “I’ve been assured the band will be better than last year’s.” You paused. “And an open bar.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Penelope, who set her mug down with a small shrug. “Well, if it’s formal attire and a better band, I suppose I could make an appearance.”

“Attire is black-tie,” you confirmed, your gaze sweeping the room. “And yes, plus-ones are welcome. But I expect every one of you to be there. No exceptions.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Guess that means we all have to dust off our evening wear.”

“I have a tux,” Reid offered quietly, drawing a chuckle from Rossi.

Aaron remained quiet, his focus trained on you. He could feel the weight of your words—not just the direct ones, but the subtext you didn’t need to spell out. He knew why you were pushing for this, why it mattered so much to you. And he hated that he understood.

As the meeting wrapped and the team began to filter out, you lingered behind, gathering your tablet and a small stack of papers. Aaron stood as well, pausing briefly near the door.

“Formal wear suits you,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up, your expression unreadable but your eyes betraying the smallest flicker of something softer. “I expect to see you there, Hotchner. On time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his tone carrying a faint edge of humor.

But as he left the room, his chest tightened with the familiar ache that came every time he was near you. Formal appearances, aligned expectations—he understood all of it.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

The Bureau’s holiday party was exactly what Aaron Hotchner had expected: polished, overly formal, and steeped in thinly veiled networking. The grand ballroom at the hotel downtown was decorated in muted gold and deep red, elegant but impersonal. A string quartet played softly in one corner, their music adding to the ambiance without drowning out the hum of conversation.

Beth stood beside him, dressed in a sleek black gown that flattered her in every way. Her brunette hair was swept into a low chignon, and her smile was warm as she introduced herself to the occasional colleague who passed by. She looked stunning, and Aaron knew that anyone in the room would agree.

But when you walked in, Aaron forgot how to breathe.

You entered the ballroom on the arm of Jeff from Finance, a name that Aaron had come to resent more than he cared to admit. He was wearing a garish plaid tuxedo jacket that screamed “trying too hard,” and his broad grin made Aaron’s jaw tighten. But none of that mattered—because you were radiant.

Your gown was a deep emerald green, the kind of color that made your eyes seem brighter, your skin glow. It hugged your figure perfectly, the fabric shimmering faintly under the chandelier light as you moved. Your hair, styled elegantly but effortlessly, framed your face in a way that made Aaron’s chest ache. You looked... otherworldly.

Aaron had always known you were beautiful. It was an undeniable fact, one that had never gone unnoticed by anyone who crossed your path. But tonight, you were something else entirely. You weren’t just beautiful; you were extraordinary, like a rare phenomenon that people spend their entire lives waiting to glimpse.

When you stepped into the room, it was as though the world tilted slightly, every sound dulling, every light dimming except for the one that seemed to follow you. Aaron’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as a strange, almost childlike awe settled over him. He felt like a boy again, staring up at the stars for the first time and realizing just how vast and infinite the universe could be.

You were that kind of beautiful. The kind that made time seem to pause, as if the room itself was holding its breath just to take you in. You were the kind of beauty that inspired poetry and music—the kind artists yearned to capture and always failed to do justice.

And in that moment, Aaron finally understood why men wrote poetry, painted masterpieces, composed symphonies, and created entire films in honor of women like you. It was all a desperate attempt to grasp something fleeting, something divine, and pin it to the earth long enough to keep.

It wasn’t just your gown, though the deep emerald green shimmered like it had been made for you, highlighting the curve of your shoulders and the elegance of your frame. It wasn’t just the way your hair fell, soft waves framing your face in a way that seemed almost unfair. It was something deeper, something impossible to put into words.

Aaron felt it in his chest, a deep, aching yearning that he’d never experienced before. It was amazement, pure and unfiltered, like seeing magic for the first time and realizing it wasn’t a trick. It was real. You were real. And yet, you didn’t feel like something he could ever touch.

He couldn’t stop staring, and for a brief, dizzying moment, he didn’t care who saw. The logical part of his mind—the one that always kept him grounded—was overruled by something more primal, more human. How was it possible, he wondered, for someone to look like that? To exist in a way that felt so rare and unattainable and yet so deeply, painfully familiar?

He thought of how easily you commanded the room, not by seeking attention but simply by being. It wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t deliberate. It was just you—this singular, dazzling presence that made everyone around you seem to fade into the background.

Aaron had never felt this way before, not even with Haley. Not even with anyone else he’d allowed into his life. This was something else entirely, something more profound and unsettling. It wasn’t just admiration or attraction. It was belief. Belief in something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing.

And then he saw Jeff beside you, his tacky plaid suit clashing with the elegance of everything you were. The man who didn’t seem to understand how lucky he was, who treated your presence like a status symbol rather than a gift.

Aaron’s stomach churned, his skin crawling as jealousy flared sharp and unrelenting. He hated it—hated the way it burned, the way it clawed at the edges of his composure.

But what he hated more was the knowledge that he had no right to feel it.

You weren’t his. And yet, watching you from across the room, Aaron couldn’t help but think you never truly belonged to anyone. You were too rare for that. Too extraordinary.

And God, how it ached to know he had let you go.

He forced himself to smile at Beth as she laughed at something Rossi said, but his attention kept drifting back to you. He hated the way Jeff hovered near you, his posture possessive and his grin smug. He hated the way Jeff’s gaudy suit jacket clashed with the elegance of your dress, as though he didn’t understand how lucky he was to be standing beside you.

More than anything, Aaron hated the feeling crawling under his skin—the sharp, searing jealousy that he couldn’t shake. It was worse than anything he had felt before, even when Haley had been unfaithful right in front of his face. This was different.

Haley’s betrayal had stung, yes, but it had been rooted in a relationship that had already begun to fracture. What Aaron felt now was raw and consuming, made worse by the knowledge that he had no claim on you. You weren’t his.

You never would be.

Beth touched his arm gently, drawing his focus back to her. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

Aaron nodded quickly, plastering on a polite smile. “Of course. Just thinking about the week ahead.”

Beth gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. She turned her attention back to Rossi, leaving Aaron with his thoughts.

He glanced toward you again, catching the way you laughed at something Jeff said. It wasn’t the laugh he remembered—the soft, genuine sound that used to fill his office late at night. This one was polite, reserved, a laugh you gave when you were being kind but not necessarily amused.

It was a small comfort but not enough to quiet the jealousy raging in his chest.

When you caught his eye from across the room, Aaron felt his breath hitch. Your gaze lingered for a moment—just long enough for him to see the flicker of something in your expression before you turned away, a polite smile on your lips as you greeted someone else.

He had made his choice. You had made yours. But standing there, watching you with someone like Jeff, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he had made the wrong one.

And yet, there was nothing he could do but endure it.

So Aaron turned back to Beth, his expression carefully neutral, and let the music and the hum of conversation fade into the background. But the ache in his chest didn’t go away.

It never did.

Aaron Hotchner stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to return with his order. The room buzzed with conversation and the occasional burst of laughter, the hum of the holiday party continuing around him like static. Beth was across the room, talking animatedly with one of the Bureau’s administrators, her glass of white wine nearly empty.

He had volunteered to get her a refill, partly because he wanted to give her a moment to network uninterrupted, but mostly because he needed a moment to himself. Maybe Beth would sell a painting or two with the amount of stiff suits in the room thought, he thought.

The sight of you with Jeff—laughing politely, your hand resting lightly on his arm—was wearing thin on his composure.

The bartender slid a fresh glass of wine and a scotch across the counter, and just as Aaron reached for them, he heard the unmistakable click of your heels behind him.

You didn’t say anything at first. You simply sidled up beside him, so close that he could feel the faint warmth of your body through the fabric of his suit. The scent of your perfume—something soft and alluring, with notes of jasmine—drifted over him, making his pulse quicken.

Aaron didn’t turn his head, but he felt the air shift between you. His grip on the glass tightened as he fought the urge to look.

Finally, you broke the silence.

“I hate you here with her.”

The words were quiet but sharp, cutting through the hum of the party like a knife. Aaron froze, his breath catching as he turned to look at you.

You weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the row of liquor bottles behind the bar, your expression calm but your eyes betraying the storm beneath.

He swallowed hard, his voice low and steady. “And you think I like seeing you here with Jeff?”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh, finally turning to meet his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, crackling like static electricity in the small space that separated you.

Then you leaned in, so close that Aaron could feel the warmth of your breath against his ear.

“Do you know what I do?” you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. “I imagine it’s your hands on me instead of his. It makes it... easier.”

Aaron’s heart slammed against his ribcage, the weight of your words knocking the air out of him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare at you in stunned silence.

You straightened, your expression unreadable but your lips curling into a faint, almost sad smile. “I thought you should know.”

His throat felt dry, his voice caught somewhere between his chest and his mouth. He wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came.

Before he could gather his thoughts, you stepped back, your gaze flickering briefly to his hands, still clutching the glasses. “Your drinks,” you said softly, the faintest hint of something unspoken lingering in your tone.

And just like that, you were gone.

Aaron watched as you crossed the room, your hips swaying, your gown flowing gracefully behind you as you returned to Jeff and the group of section chiefs. You slipped back into the conversation effortlessly, smiling and nodding as though nothing had happened.

But Aaron knew better.

He stood there at the bar, the scotch and wine forgotten in his hands, as the weight of your words settled over him. His pulse still raced, his skin prickling with the memory of your closeness, your voice, your confession.

For a man who had always prided himself on control, Aaron felt anything but. You had shattered the careful walls he’d built around himself, leaving him standing in the middle of a crowded room, completely undone.

Aaron Hotchner sat at the table, his back straight, his hands loosely clasped around the tumbler of scotch in front of him. The room was alive with the sound of music, laughter, and the murmur of conversation, but to him, it all blurred into a distant hum.

Beth was seated beside him, engaged in an animated discussion with Penelope. Her warm laugh punctuated the conversation. Aaron nodded occasionally when prompted, but his focus was elsewhere.

Across the room, you swayed to the slow rhythm of the music, your body close to Jeff’s as he held you gently, one hand on your waist, the other resting lightly on your back. Your head tilted slightly, your cheek brushing the fabric of his shoulder. The two of you moved easily, almost effortlessly, to the soft melody of the band.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his across the room, and in that instant, the rest of the world fell away.

Aaron froze, his breath catching in his chest as your gaze locked onto his. There was something in the way you looked at him, something unspoken but deeply familiar, that cut through the noise and the lights and the meaningless chatter around him.

It wasn’t just eye contact. It was a connection—a thread pulled taut between you, invisible to everyone else but impossibly strong.

He couldn’t look away.

Your eyes held his, and in them, he saw everything that words couldn’t convey. Longing. Frustration. A quiet, desperate ache that mirrored his own. It was as though every emotion he’d buried, every feeling he’d suppressed, was reflected back at him in your gaze.

And then there was the tension—the undeniable, magnetic pull that had always existed between you but felt even stronger now. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, the kind of thing that made time seem irrelevant.

Aaron didn’t notice the way his fingers tightened around the glass in his hand or the way his heart began to pound. All he knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

You swayed gently in Jeff’s arms, your movements fluid and graceful, but your gaze never wavered. The music, the people, even Jeff himself—all of it faded into the background. There was only you and him, locked in this moment, this silent conversation that neither of you could end.

It wasn’t just attraction, though, that was there, simmering beneath the surface. It was something deeper, something raw and unspoken. It was the weight of every choice you’d made, every boundary you’d set, and every word you’d left unsaid.

Aaron felt like he couldn’t breathe like the space between you was both infinite and nonexistent. It was a cruel paradox—feeling as though you were so close he could almost reach out and touch you, yet knowing you were untouchable, unreachable.

The ache in his chest wasn’t just pain; it was a deep, hollow yearning that he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t the sharp sting of a fleeting wound—it was the slow, relentless ache of loss. Of knowing exactly what he was missing and yet being powerless to reclaim it.

He missed you in ways that felt impossible to quantify, in ways that crept into his thoughts when he least expected it. He missed your touch—the way your hand had lingered on his arm during late-night conversations, grounding him in moments when he felt untethered. He missed the warmth of your presence, the quiet reassurance that came with simply having you near.

But it wasn’t just the physical things. It was everything about you, the parts of you that no one else seemed to notice or understand the way he did.

He missed your laugh—the genuine, full-bodied sound that lit up a room and chased away the weight of even the hardest days. It was rare, but when it happened, it was like the world itself paused to listen.

He missed your softness—the way you could be so strong, so unyielding in your convictions, and yet offer a kindness that made even the most jaded person feel seen. You had a way of making people believe they mattered, a way of making him believe he mattered.

And he missed your fierceness—the fire in your eyes when you were fighting for something you believed in, the way you carried yourself with confidence and grace, never backing down from a challenge. You inspired him in ways he didn’t even realize until you weren’t there to do it anymore.

Most of all, he missed your presence. That quiet, steady support that had become such a part of his life he hadn’t realized how much he relied on it until it was gone. You were his equal, his match in every way that mattered. And now, you were just... gone.

The ache in his chest deepened as he sat at the table, staring at the empty doorway where you had disappeared. He didn’t just miss what they had shared—the stolen moments, the quiet confessions. He missed you. The person who had seen him at his worst and still stood by him. The person who had understood him in ways no one else ever could.

And as the weight of that realization settled over him, Aaron knew that no matter how much time passed, no matter what choices either of them made, the space you had left in his life would never be filled.

And then, just as suddenly, you broke the spell.

You blinked, your gaze faltering as you looked away, your expression unreadable. Flustered almost. Aaron watched as you gently stepped back from Jeff, your movements deliberate but hurried.

“Excuse me,” you murmured to him, your voice just audible enough for Aaron to hear over the music.

You crossed the room with purpose, your gown flowing behind you like liquid emerald. Aaron’s eyes followed your every step, his heart sinking as you reached your table and grabbed your clutch.

Jeff, caught off guard, trailed after you, his expression confused but compliant. He said something to you, but you barely acknowledged him, your focus entirely on leaving.

Aaron’s gaze lingered on the empty space you left behind, his chest tightening as he watched the two of you disappear through the ballroom’s double doors.

The world slowly returned—Beth’s voice beside him, the hum of the music, the clinking of glasses—but none of it felt real.

Aaron took a slow sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on the door as though willing you to return. But he knew you wouldn’t.

Because whatever had just passed between you, whatever that moment had been, was too much for either of you to bear.

The drive to Beth’s apartment had been quiet. Too quiet. She had smiled softly at him when he pulled up in front of her building, the warmth of her expression filled with an affection that he knew he couldn’t return—not the way she deserved.

“Do you want to come up?” she asked, her tone light but hopeful.

Aaron hesitated, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He forced a smile, one that felt more like a grimace. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day.”

Beth studied him for a moment, her disappointment subtle but evident. “Okay,” she said softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Drive safe, Aaron.”

He nodded, waiting until she disappeared into the building before exhaling a shaky breath. He should have gone home. He should have driven straight to his house, poured himself another drink, and buried the night in paperwork or sleep.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Aaron found himself driving through the quiet streets, the sound of the city outside his car muffled by the relentless echo of your words in his mind.

Do you know what I do? I imagine it’s your hands on me instead of his. It makes it... easier.

The words played on a loop, relentless and consuming. He could see the way you had looked at him, the softness in your voice, the sadness and longing that mirrored his own. It unraveled him.

He loosened his tie, tugging at the silk knot with a sharp, frustrated motion as if it were choking him. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, and he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind—your gown, the way you moved, the way your eyes had locked with his in a silent confession across the room.

He didn’t even notice his speed, the way the city blurred around him as he drove. All he knew was where he needed to go.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he hesitated only briefly. Jeff could be here. That much was obvious. But Aaron didn’t care—not tonight.

He climbed out of the car, his footsteps quick and determined as he approached your door. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse roaring in his ears, but his mind was clear.

He knocked, his knuckles rapping firmly against the wood.

The seconds stretched endlessly until the door opened, and there you were.

You were wearing a silk robe, its soft fabric clinging to your frame and catching the light. Your hair was loose, framing your face in soft waves, and your expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable when you saw him.

“Aaron,” you said softly, your voice tentative.

“Is he here?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though his chest felt like it might explode.

You blinked, startled by the question, before shaking your head. “No.”

“Good,” he said, stepping forward and into your space.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant.

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him as he pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. The kiss was fierce, dominating, raw, filled with all the pent-up tension and longing that had been building for months.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as you stumbled slightly, the force of his kiss pushing you backward. He guided you with purpose, his body pressing yours against the wall just inside the entryway.

His hands moved to your face, his fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the connection. It was raw, desperate, and consuming.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. The silk of your robe brushed against his suit, the contrast of textures only heightening the sensation.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your chests heaving as you stared at each other.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling but laced with something unmistakable—desire, relief, and a trace of vulnerability.

He rested his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your face as he closed his eyes. “I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice rough and raw.

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you pulled him back into another kiss, and Aaron let himself surrender to the moment, the weight of everything else fading away.

For once, nothing else mattered.

Aaron’s breath was ragged as his lips moved against yours, his hands still cradling your face like he was afraid to let go. Every ounce of restraint he’d held onto for so long had snapped the moment you’d opened the door, and now, the thought of stopping felt impossible.

Your fingers curled into the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer, and he responded in kind, his body pressing firmly against yours. The silk of your robe was impossibly soft under his hands as he slid them from your face to your waist, his fingers gripping you like he was trying to anchor himself to the moment.

Aaron knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew this was a line he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. But every logical thought dissolved under the weight of your kiss, the way your lips moved against his with a hunger that matched his own.

“God, we shouldn’t—” you murmured against his mouth, your voice breathless but tinged with something desperate.

“I know,” he whispered back, his hands trailing along your sides, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your robe. “But I can’t stop.”

Your eyes met his, the intensity of your gaze nearly undoing him. It wasn’t just lust that burned in your expression—it was longing, the same yearning that had been simmering between you for months, the same ache he’d carried every time he saw you.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands roaming up your back as he felt you relax into him. Your hands found the knot of his tie, tugging it loose with a deliberate pull that sent his pulse racing. The silk slipped free, and you tossed it aside, your fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt with a sense of urgency that mirrored his own.

Aaron let out a soft groan as your hands brushed against his chest, your touch igniting a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in years. His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Aaron,” you breathed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, and the sound of it sent a shiver down his spine.

His hands found the sash of your robe, his fingers hesitating briefly as he looked at you, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. But there was none—only want, only need.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough but tender, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

Your answer was clear in the way you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “I’m sure.”

The robe slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, and Aaron’s breath hitched at the sight of you, so beautiful and bare before him. His hands traced the curve of your waist, his touch reverent but firm, as though he was committing every detail to memory.

He kissed you again, deeper and slower this time, savoring the taste of you, the softness of your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air heavy with the weight of everything unspoken but understood.

Every touch, every kiss, felt forbidden, a line crossed and recrossed with every passing second. But neither of you pulled away. You couldn’t.

Aaron guided you gently toward the couch, his lips never leaving yours as you moved together. You sank down onto the cushions, pulling him with you, and he let himself get lost in you—the way you smelled, the way your skin felt against his, the way you whispered his name like it was the only thing that mattered.

As his hands roamed over you, exploring, memorizing, Aaron felt a pang of guilt buried beneath the passion. He knew this was dangerous, that there would be consequences. But for now, in this moment, he didn’t care.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you were his.

And he wasn’t ready to let that go.

Aaron’s mind was a storm as he pressed you against the cushions of the couch, his lips moving with a ferocity he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. The weight of his body pressed into yours, grounding him in a way that made everything else—Beth, Jeff, the consequences of this moment—fade into the background.

Your hands slid under his shirt, your fingers grazing his skin with a touch that sent shivers through him. He growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to shrug out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. His shirt followed, buttons undone hastily by your hands, and he barely registered the faint sound of fabric hitting the hardwood before his mouth was back on yours.

This was wrong. He knew it with every rational part of himself. But it didn’t stop the way he kissed you, dominating, claiming like he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else who had touched you. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your thighs, your back—pulling you closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost a growl. His fingers found your bare skin so inviting. “I’ve wanted this… you… for so long.”

You arched into him, your breath hitching as his lips trailed from your mouth to your collarbone, leaving a scorching path in their wake. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Aaron felt like he might lose his mind at the way you responded to him.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” he asked, his voice strained as he paused, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers grazed your bare shoulder, his touch featherlight but filled with intent. “Watching you, wanting you, knowing I couldn’t have you?”

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The intensity in your gaze was enough to undo him, filled with the same longing, the same desperation he’d been carrying for months.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’ve felt it too.”

That was all it took for Aaron to give in completely. His lips crashed against yours again, his kiss deep and consuming, leaving no room for second thoughts. He shifted, lifting you slightly as he moved you further onto the couch, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness he couldn’t hold back.

You were his. At least in this moment, you were his.

His hands roamed over you with purpose, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His lips continued their relentless exploration of your body. He kissed you like he was starving like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

And maybe you were.

The air between you was thick with tension; each movement laced with the weight of everything unspoken. Aaron’s hands framed your face as he paused to look at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but intense. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing over his jaw as you pulled him back to you. “Stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but firm. “Don’t say that. Not now.”

Aaron didn’t argue. He couldn’t. The way you looked at him—like he was the only thing in the world that mattered—was enough to silence any doubts. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second, every touch, every sigh that escaped your lips.

It was forbidden. It was reckless. But in that moment, it was everything.

Aaron’s control, the control he prided himself on in every aspect of his life, was slipping through his fingers. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips moving against yours with a hunger he hadn’t felt in years—if ever. The feel of your body beneath his was intoxicating, and for once, he allowed himself to surrender to the moment.

But you weren’t passive. No, that wasn’t who you were.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your nails raking down his back as you shifted beneath him, a movement so deliberate it nearly undid him. You pressed up against him, your strength and confidence matching his in a way that sent his pulse racing.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath heavy as his eyes roamed over you. The sight of you—flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes dark with desire—was enough to make his chest tighten.

“You’re not getting away from me this time,” he said, his voice low and commanding, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in close.

You smirked, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him toward you. “I wasn’t planning on it,” you murmured, your voice teasing but filled with intent.

Aaron’s response was immediate. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. He wanted to mark you, to leave a reminder of this moment, of him, as if to stake a claim neither of you would ever admit aloud.

Your hands moved to his belt, the boldness of your actions sending a jolt through him. He let out a low growl, gripping your wrists gently but firmly to still you.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone a mix of command and amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression challenging. “Afraid you can’t keep up, Hotchner?”

That did it.

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours again, his hands sliding up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and possessiveness into it. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a soft moan from you that went straight to his core.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his voice rough as he broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

You smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest with deliberate slowness. “I think I have some idea,” you replied, your voice low and filled with heat.

The push and pull between you was electric, a constant dance of dominance and surrender that neither of you fully gave into. When you shifted, pushing him back with a surprising strength that only made him want you more, he couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asked, his hands gripping your hips as you straddled him, your robe slipping fully off your shoulders, completely bare to him.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t mind a challenge, do you?”

Aaron’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you down against him, his voice a growl. “Not at all.”

The heat between you was overwhelming, the air thick with tension and desire as your lips met his again, both of you fighting for control even as you gave into the pull of each other. It was raw, intense, and unrelenting, a collision of two forces that had been held back for far too long.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement spoke volumes, the unspoken words of longing and frustration spilling out in the way you claimed each other, over and over again.

Aaron had always been a man of control, a man who measured his steps and chose his words with precision. But here, with you, that control was unraveling, slipping away with every kiss, every touch. The months of tension, the stolen glances, the unspoken words between you had built to this moment, and now, neither of you seemed capable of holding back.

Your nails dragged along his chest, leaving faint, red lines in their wake as you leaned into him. He hissed at the sensation, his hands gripping your hips with enough force to anchor himself. Aaron couldn’t stop his hands from exploring, feeling the heat of your skin under his touch.

“You drive me insane,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he tilted his head to capture your lips again. The kiss was fierce, almost punishing, a testament to the months of restraint that had finally snapped.

You didn’t shy away. You met his intensity with your own, your lips moving against his with a hunger that left no doubt about how much you wanted this—wanted him.

“Good,” you murmured against his mouth, your voice breathless but laced with defiance. “Because you’ve been driving me insane for months.”

Aaron chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, earning a gasp from you that sent a surge of possessiveness through him. His hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifted you from the couch effortlessly. The action earned a surprised laugh from you, but it was cut short when he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning yours in place.

“This is mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding as his hands roamed your body. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, trailing kisses down your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re mine.”

Your head tilted back against the wall, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Then take me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of challenge and desire. “If you want me so badly, Aaron, prove it.”

Something snapped in him at your words. His hands tightened on your thighs as his lips found yours again, the kiss rough and consuming, leaving no room for doubt about who you belonged to in this moment. His fingers dug into your skin just enough to leave faint impressions, a silent mark of his claim on you.

Every movement was deliberate, every touch a blend of dominance and reverence. Aaron’s hands slid beneath the loosened fabric of your robe, his fingers exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach.

Your body arched against his, your hands gripping his shoulders as you met him with equal fervor. There was nothing soft or gentle about the way you moved together; it was raw, fierce, a collision of passion and pent-up frustration that neither of you could contain.

“Aaron,” you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a plea, and it undid him. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes, his grip on you firm and steady.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice a growl as he tightened his hold on you.

Your eyes locked with his, dark with desire and unspoken emotion. “Aaron,” you repeated, your voice softer this time but no less commanding.

His lips crashed against yours again, his hands roaming freely, claiming you in every way he could. There was no hesitation, no room for second thoughts—only the overwhelming need to have you, to show you exactly what you meant to him, even if he couldn’t say the words aloud.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. What he saw there—desire, longing, and something deeper, more vulnerable—unraveled him completely.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, filled with the weight of months of suppressed emotions. “Tell me you want this.”

Your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing lightly over his jawline as you looked at him with a gaze that left him breathless. “I’ve always wanted this,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

That was all he needed.

Aaron’s lips crashed against yours, the kiss hungry and all-consuming as his hands slid up your thighs, securing your legs around his waist. He pressed you harder against the wall, the roughness of the plaster against your back contrasting with the heat of his body against yours.

Every touch, every kiss, every movement was filled with urgency, a desperate need to make up for all the time you’d spent denying yourselves this moment. His hands roamed your body, possessive and reverent as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

Your hands tugged at the rest of his clothes, pushing them further off him as your lips moved from his mouth to his jawline, trailing kisses down his neck. The soft, breathy sound you made against his skin sent a jolt of electricity through him, his control slipping further.

“Aaron,” you gasped, your voice breaking as his hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

He groaned in response, his name on your lips undoing him in a way he hadn’t expected. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and raw as his lips found yours again. “No one else’s.”

Your response was immediate, your arms tightening around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor. The way you moved against him, the way you whispered his name between gasps, left no room for doubt—you were his, and he was yours.

The tension between you reached its breaking point, the air heavy with the weight of everything unspoken but understood. Aaron’s movements became more deliberate, his hands gripping you firmly as he gave in completely to the moment.

It was raw, intense, and unrelenting, a culmination of months of longing and frustration. Every touch, every kiss, every movement was filled with a passion that left you both breathless, the line between control and surrender blurring as you claimed each other fully.

When he reached between you, he found you wet and wanting. Bucking your hips against his hand. He circled his fingers, warming you up--not that you needed it. Savoring the little responses he got from you. His other hand reached for your breast, caressing and cupping it with achingly slow motions.

“Aaron!” It was almost a demand, telling him you needed him now. He understood as you pushed yourself up, wrapping one leg around his waist. His pants and belt pooled at his ankles--it wasn’t the most practical scene, but was anything about this situation?

He entered you swiftly, an open-mouthed kiss with a shared groan between the two of you. Your hands found his hair, tugging on it as your eyes rolled back. His mouth moved to the hollow of your neck, his hands exploring you all at once, but still not enough.

He imagined the angle was physically more demanding for you as he lifted you, holding you up against the wall, bringing him impossibly deeper now. He rocked into you with a rhythm that was unmatched. The sound of his metal belt buckle shifting on the floor with every swift slap of his hips against yours filled the room.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, basically melting in his arms. It was like a domino effect, taking him down with you. He released deep inside of you, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he groaned your name.

Something deep was released inside in this moment, too, more emotionally than any sexual release. He knew in this moment he couldn’t not have you again.

You unwrapped your legs from his hips, the two of you slowly separating with a whimper.

Aaron held you against him, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath. His hands remained on your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as if he couldn’t bear to let go just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of what you’d just done hung in the air, but so did the undeniable connection that had brought you to this point.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and rough as his fingers brushed lightly against your side.

You nodded, your lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

Aaron exhaled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he closed his eyes. For now, in this moment, everything else could wait. For now, there was only you.

The intensity between you had cooled slightly, replaced now by a quiet tenderness that neither of you knew how to navigate. Reaching down, he pulled his boxers, pants and belt back up, leaving them still undone.

The silence was thick, and as Aaron stepped back, his gaze flicked to the disheveled state of both of you. He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing still uneven as the realization hit him like a jolt.

“We didn’t...” he started, his voice low and gravelly. “We didn’t use protection.”

Your lips parted, and for a moment, you didn’t respond. Then, with a softness that caught him off guard, you said, “I know.”

Aaron frowned, confusion furrowing his brow. “And you’re... with Jeff.”

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out, needing to understand. He watched as you turned away.

“We haven’t had sex,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron froze, the weight of your words sinking in slowly. “What?”

You turned to face him, your expression vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. “I couldn’t,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I couldn’t bring myself to... be with him. He’s—” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “He’s been an accessory. Something to keep people from asking questions.”

Aaron stared at you, his mind racing. Jeff’s smug comments in the locker room, the way he’d hovered near you at the party—it had all been an act, a performance. You hadn’t been with him. You’d been pulling him along to keep up appearances, just like you’d said.

“I thought...” he began, but his words faltered. He took a breath, running a hand down his face. “You’re with him, and I’m with Beth. Or at least I thought I was.”

You studied him, your eyes searching his face. “Have you?” you asked, the question hesitant but pointed.

Aaron shook his head, his voice quieter now. “No. I haven’t been able to.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he met your gaze. “She’s not... she’s not you.”

For a moment, the weight of that truth hung between you, unspoken but undeniable. Neither of you moved, the air between you thick with something that felt too fragile to name.

Eventually, Aaron stepped forward, his hand brushing against yours before gently taking it in his. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You followed him without a word, the quiet between you more comfortable now, though still heavy with everything unsaid. In the dim light of the small bathroom, Aaron found a clean towel, dampening it with warm water before turning back to you.

He worked in silence, his movements careful and deliberate as he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion. His touch was tender, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made your breath hitch.

When it was your turn, you took another face cloth, your hands steady but your expression unreadable. You dabbed at his face, his neck, his chest, your fingers lingering just a little too long as if memorizing the feel of him.

Neither of you spoke, the quiet filled only with the soft sound of water and the unspoken tension that neither of you knew how to address. Aaron watched you, his chest tightening as he saw the flicker of vulnerability in your eyes, the way your lips pressed into a thin line as you concentrated on your task.

He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. So he let the moment stretch, allowing the silence to say what neither of you could.

When you were finished, you folded the towel and set it aside, your hands brushing his one last time before you stepped back. Aaron caught your wrist gently, his touch lingering just long enough for you to meet his gaze.

But still, neither of you spoke.

Instead, you turned away, pulling your robe tighter around you as Aaron let his hand fall to his side. The weight of everything you’d shared pressed heavily on both of you and for now, neither of you had the courage to face what came next.

Aaron stood in the quiet of your bedroom, his hands resting on his hips as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The events of the night weighed heavily on him—what they meant, what they would lead to—but before he could sink too deeply into his own mind, you reappeared.

Your silk robe was gone, replaced by his button-up shirt, which hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. You looked both effortless and intimate, like you belonged in it.

“I missed this,” you said softly, your voice breaking through his thoughts. You smoothed your hands over the fabric, as though savoring the feel of it. “I missed the smell of you. I missed you. Everything about you.”

The words hit Aaron like a punch to the chest, and he exhaled slowly, his throat tightening. He knew the feeling all too well. He had missed you, too—more than he could admit, more than he had allowed himself to feel until now.

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his as you gently tugged him toward the bed. Aaron followed, the quiet intimacy of the moment grounding him even as his heart raced. Removing his dresspants, folding them, and placing them on a chair nearby.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his body taut with hesitation, but you didn’t let him linger there. You climbed onto the mattress, settling in on your side and motioning for him to join you.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then slid under the covers, lying on his side to face you. The moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, silver glow. It cast delicate shadows across your face, highlighting the vulnerability in your expression as you looked at him.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched between you, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. Aaron’s gaze traced the lines of your face, committing every detail to memory—the curve of your cheek, the softness of your lips, the way your eyes held his with an intensity that made his chest ache.

“Love me,” you whispered suddenly, your voice trembling but insistent. Your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw, your touch hesitant but desperate. “Please, Aaron. Love me.”

The vulnerability in your voice, the way you said the words like they were both a demand and a plea, sent a wave of emotion crashing over him. This was almost uncharacteristic for you. Your presence never demanded attention, yet here you were, asking him to love you. Aaron’s heart twisted painfully, and he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You don’t have to ask me to do that,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I already do.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his as if trying to find the truth in his words. But there was no doubt, no hesitation in his gaze. He loved you—he always had, even when he couldn’t say it, even when it felt impossible.

“But we can’t,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “You know that. If we do this, we risk everything—our jobs, the team, the work we’ve both sacrificed so much for.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears shining in your eyes. “I don’t care about any of that, Aaron. I just care about you.”

Aaron closed his eyes, his chest heaving as he struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions tearing through him. He hated how complicated this was, how the world seemed determined to keep the two of you apart.

“I hate it, too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hate how complicated this is, how much we have to give up just to be together. But I can’t lose you. I can’t risk losing everything that makes you... you.”

Your hand cupped his face, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek as you leaned closer. “Then don’t,” you said, your voice soft but resolute. “Don’t lose me. We’ll figure it out. We have to.”

Aaron exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes closed. The thought of giving you up, of walking away from this, was unbearable. And yet, the thought of losing everything you had worked so hard for was just as devastating.

“I’d give it all up,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “The job, the team—all of it. I’d give it up to have you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of his words settling over you. He had reached a point where he couldn’t even get to with Haley--ready to put the job and whatever else behind him. Then, slowly, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a kiss so soft it felt like a promise.

Aaron kissed you back, his hands cradling your face as he poured everything he couldn’t say into the connection. And as the two of you lay there in the quiet, the moonlight casting its gentle glow over the room, Aaron realized that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid of what came next.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room as Aaron woke to the warmth of your body next to his. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of forgetting everything outside this space. But the weight of reality settled quickly, and he knew there were choices to be made—choices that couldn’t wait.

You stirred beside him, your head turning slightly on the pillow as your eyes fluttered open. When you looked at him, there was a quiet understanding in your gaze, as though you’d already been thinking about what needed to happen next.

The day was spent in quiet, focused conversation. You sat together at the kitchen table, steaming cups of coffee in front of you, as you laid out the possibilities. Aaron admired your methodical approach, the way you analyzed every angle every consequence, even as he felt the heaviness of the discussion pressing down on him.

“What if we went to the team first?” you suggested your voice steady but laced with uncertainty. “If they’re on our side—if they don’t have any reservations—it might give us the leverage we need when we talk to the Director again.”

Aaron considered your words carefully, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “It’s risky,” he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. “But it might be the only way to prove that this won’t affect the team’s dynamic. If they can support us, it could make a difference.”

You nodded, your hands wrapped around your mug as you leaned back in your chair. “And if the Director still refuses?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with determination. “Then we don’t give him a choice. We go in together and tell him it’s either this—or we both walk.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was a shared understanding of the enormity of what you were discussing. Neither of you had ever walked away from anything lightly, but the thought of giving each other up again was unbearable.

Later, as the day stretched on, the two of you made the decisions you’d been avoiding for weeks. Beth deserved the truth, as did Jeff, no matter how difficult those conversations would be.

Aaron made the visit to Beth first. She was tinged with confusion at his sudden need to talk. He kept his words measured and respectful, explaining that he couldn’t give her what she deserved—that his heart had always belonged to someone else. Beth was hurt but graceful, her acceptance tinged with sadness.

When he returned to the your house later on after also attending to fatherly duties with Jack, you were finishing your call with Jeff. Your expression was unreadable, but the way you let out a soft sigh as you set your phone down spoke volumes. “He didn’t take it well,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the edge of your mug. “But I couldn’t keep leading him on. It wasn’t fair.”

Aaron placed a hand over yours, his touch grounding and steady. “We did what we had to,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “Now we move forward.”

That evening, as you sat together in the quiet, the weight of the day’s decisions settled over you both. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with potential challenges and risks, but for the first time, there was a glimmer of hope.

The two of you had a plan—a united front—and whatever came next, you knew you’d face it.

The BAU conference room felt smaller than usual as Aaron Hotchner stood to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. You were seated at the head of the table, your posture poised but your hands clasped tightly together—a rare sign of nervousness that only someone who knew you well, like Aaron, would notice.

The team filtered in one by one, their expressions curious but light. Emily had a cup of coffee in hand, Derek was chatting with JJ about some recent Quantico gossip, and Penelope trailed behind with a bright, questioning look. Reid sat toward the middle, already flipping through a notepad, and Rossi took his usual spot near the back, his eyes sharp as they scanned the room.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Derek asked, his grin playful as he pulled out a chair and settled in. “This doesn’t feel like our usual meeting vibe.”

You took a steadying breath, your gaze sweeping across the table before landing briefly on Aaron. He gave you a small nod, his expression calm but supportive.

“Thank you all for coming,” you began, your voice steady despite the undercurrent of tension in the room. “I know this isn’t our usual meeting. Aaron and I asked you here because we need to discuss something important—something personal that affects the team.”

The lighthearted chatter died down instantly, replaced by a palpable curiosity and concern.

You continued, your hands tightening slightly around each other as you spoke. “Over the past few months, Aaron and I have realized that we want to pursue a personal relationship. I know this might come as a surprise—or even a concern—to some of you, given our roles and the nature of our work.”

Aaron watched as the team processed your words, their expressions a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, in some cases, quiet understanding.

You straightened, your tone firm but earnest. “We’ve thought this through carefully. We understand the gravity of this decision, not just for ourselves but for all of you. This team is a family. It’s been my honor to work with each of you, and I don’t take lightly the idea of doing anything that could disrupt that dynamic.”

Aaron stepped forward then, his voice calm and measured as he added, “That’s why we wanted to be upfront with all of you. We respect your opinions, and we’re here to listen if any of you have reservations or concerns.”

There was a beat of silence before Emily leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a thoughtful look. “So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice tinged with dry amusement. “The two of you want to be together, but the higher-ups don’t approve?”

You nodded, your gaze steady. “Correct. The Director has made it clear that our relationship is considered inappropriate given our positions. He gave us two options: end it or find roles outside the team.”

JJ frowned, her concern evident. “And what are you planning to do?”

Aaron glanced at you, and you gave a slight nod before he spoke. “We’ve decided to pursue the relationship despite those orders. But we’re not going into this without a plan. We believe the best course of action is to go to the Director with the support of this team. If we can demonstrate that our relationship won’t compromise our work or the dynamic here, it may give us the leverage we need.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Reid asked quietly, his brow furrowed in thought.

You hesitated, and Aaron stepped in. “If the Director won’t budge, we’re prepared to leave. Together.”

That admission hung heavy in the air, and Aaron could feel the weight of the team’s reactions pressing down on him.

Derek leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he let out a low whistle. “Man, that’s a big gamble. But you’ve always been a risk-taker, Hotch.”

Emily smirked faintly, her tone more teasing than judgmental. “Never would’ve pegged you for a rule-breaker, though.”

Penelope, wide-eyed and fidgeting with her bracelets, finally spoke up. “So… does this mean we’re, like, the deciding vote? Because, no pressure, but this feels like a really big deal!”

You smiled faintly, the tension in your posture easing slightly. “It is a big deal, Penelope. But we trust you. All of you. That’s why we wanted to have this conversation first.”

Rossi, who had been quietly observing, finally leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “I’ve seen a lot of things in this job. Relationships, breakups, people falling apart under pressure. But I’ve never doubted the professionalism or dedication of either of you. And I don’t see that changing now.”

Aaron felt a flicker of gratitude as Rossi’s words hung in the air, setting the tone for the rest of the discussion.

One by one, the team voiced their thoughts. JJ expressed some concern about how this might look to the brass but ultimately supported you both, trusting your judgment. Reid, after asking a few logistical questions, nodded thoughtfully and said he believed the two of you could handle it. Penelope gave an impassioned speech about love conquering all, which drew chuckles around the table, and Emily and Derek exchanged a look before both offering their backing with only a bit of playful ribbing.

By the end of the discussion, Aaron felt a weight lift from his chest. The team’s support wasn’t just a relief—it was a validation of the respect and trust you had built with each of them over the years.

You stood, your hands resting lightly on the table as you addressed them one last time. “Thank you. Truly. This means everything to us. And I promise, no matter what happens, the integrity of this team will always come first.”

Aaron stepped beside you, his gaze sweeping over the team with quiet gratitude. “We’ll take this to the Director together. And whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

As the team began to disperse, Derek clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “Never thought I’d see the day, Hotch. You breaking rules for love? Guess there’s hope for all of us.”

Aaron chuckled softly, but as he turned to look at you, his expression softened. This wasn’t just about breaking rules—it was about finally choosing the person who made it all worthwhile.

Aaron Hotchner stood in the hallway outside the Director’s office, his hands in his pockets and his gaze steady. The weight of what they were about to do hung heavily between you, but he felt none of the apprehension he might have expected. Instead, he felt a strange calm bolstered by the resolve that radiated from you as you stood beside him.

You turned to him, your expression set but your eyes soft. You had dressed sharply for the meeting, your tailored suit immaculate, projecting the authority you carried so effortlessly. Still, there was something in the way your fingers brushed against his as you reached for him that made his chest tighten.

“You ready for this?” you asked, your voice low but steady.

Aaron looked at you, taking in the determined set of your jaw and the quiet strength in your posture. “With you? Always.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, and for a moment, the tension between you softened. You stepped closer, your hand resting lightly on his chest as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was both grounding and electrifying.

“Let’s do this,” you murmured against his mouth, and he nodded, his hands lingering briefly on your waist before you pulled away.

When you entered the Director’s office together, the atmosphere shifted. The room was large and imposing, the walls lined with awards and photos that told the story of the Bureau’s successes. The Director sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he gestured for you to sit.

Aaron stayed standing beside you as you took the lead, your voice calm and authoritative as you began. “Thank you for meeting with us, sir. We wanted to address the situation between Agent Hotchner and myself directly.”

The Director leaned back in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him. “I’m listening.”

Aaron watched as you laid out your case with precision and confidence, detailing how the two of you had handled your relationship with professionalism, how you had sought the team’s support, and how they had expressed their trust in your ability to maintain the integrity of the BAU.

“We understand your concerns, and we don’t take this lightly,” you said, your gaze steady on the Director. “But we also know the value we bring to the Bureau, both individually and as a team. We’re here to ask for your trust, just as we’ve earned the trust of the people we lead.”

Aaron stepped in then, his voice steady but firm. “We’ve always put the mission of the BAU first, and that won’t change. But if this is a line you believe we’ve crossed, we’re prepared to accept the consequences. Both of us.”

The Director’s gaze sharpened at that, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you both. “You’re telling me you’re willing to walk away? Both of you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “We believe in what we’ve built here, but we won’t compromise our integrity—or the team’s—by pretending this relationship doesn’t exist.”

The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Aaron could feel the tension coiled in his chest, but he didn’t waver. He stood beside you, unflinching, as the Director considered their ultimatum.

Finally, the Director let out a slow breath; his fingers steepled under his chin. “This is highly irregular. You both know that. The Bureau doesn’t operate on personal exceptions.”

You nodded, your posture unyielding. “We understand that, sir. But losing both of us would be a significant blow to the BAU, especially given our track record and the current demands on the unit.”

The Director’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re asking for a lot.”

Aaron stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “And we’re offering a solution. Put us on a review period. Watch us closely. If there are any issues—any compromises to the integrity of the BAU—you’ll have our resignations. No questions asked.”

The Director’s gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression inscrutable. After what felt like an eternity, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled sharply. “Fine. A review period. But understand this: you’ll both be under intense scrutiny. Any sign that this relationship is affecting the team or your work, and it ends. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you said immediately, your voice steady.

Aaron nodded. “Crystal.”

When the two of you left the office, the tension in the hallway was palpable, but it quickly gave way to a quiet sense of victory. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and for the first time that day, you allowed yourself a small, relieved smile.

“That went better than expected,” you said, your voice light with a mix of relief and determination.

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours as you walked. “I’d say we make a pretty good team.”

You stopped then, turning to face him fully. The moonlight streaming through the hallway windows cast a soft glow over your face, and Aaron felt his chest tighten at the sight of you—strong, confident, and absolutely unshakable.

“With you?” you said, echoing his earlier words. “We can do anything.”

Aaron smiled, his hand finding yours and giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. And as the two of you walked away from the Director’s office, united in purpose and resolve, he knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Days later, the grand estate was already alive with warmth and light as Aaron Hotchner guided you up the stone steps to Rossi’s front door. The crisp New Year’s Eve air bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth he felt when he glanced at you, wrapped in a deep burgundy coat that highlighted the glow in your cheeks.

“Rossi doesn’t do anything halfway,” Aaron remarked quietly, his lips curving into a faint smile as you reached the top step.

“You say that like you’re surprised,” you teased, your eyes sparkling as you met his gaze.

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand finding the small of your back as the door swung open, revealing Rossi himself. Dressed in a sharp suit, his expression was one of genuine delight as he welcomed you both with open arms.

“Ah, my two favorite rule-breakers,” Rossi said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, come in. There’s champagne waiting, and plenty of people to charm.”

The party was every bit as grand as Aaron had expected. Rossi’s expansive living room was filled with colleagues, friends, and family, all dressed in their finest. A jazz quartet played softly in the corner, their music weaving seamlessly through the low hum of conversation.

Aaron scanned the room instinctively, cataloging familiar faces—Emily and JJ chatting near the bar, Penelope gesturing animatedly to Reid, and Derek leaning against a nearby column, his easy grin drawing a small crowd of admirers.

But his focus always returned to you.

You were by his side, your coat now replaced by an elegant black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, the neckline just daring enough to make his chest tighten. You smiled at someone who greeted you, your laugh soft but genuine, and Aaron couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you commanded the room.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him as you handed him a glass of champagne.

He took it with a small smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “I’d say that depends entirely on you.”

Your lips quirked into a faint smirk, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded, leaving only the quiet connection between the two of you.

As the evening wore on, Aaron found himself drawn to you again and again, his gaze seeking you out even when you were across the room. You had a way of grounding him, even in the chaos of a room full of people, and he felt a quiet thrill every time your eyes met his, a silent understanding passing between you.

When the two of you found yourselves alone on Rossi’s terrace, the night sky stretched out above you, Aaron couldn’t help but steal a moment. The cold air bit at his skin, but the warmth of your presence was enough to chase it away.

“You look stunning tonight,” he said softly, his voice low as he leaned on the railing beside you.

You glanced at him, your smile softening into something more intimate. “You’re not so bad yourself, Agent Hotchner.”

The teasing tone in your voice made him chuckle, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity that made his chest ache in the best way.

The sound of the party spilling onto the terrace broke the moment, and the two of you turned to see Rossi stepping out, his hands raised theatrically.

“Two minutes to midnight, folks!” he called, his grin as wide as ever. “Let’s make it count!”

Aaron glanced at you, his heart pounding as he saw the faint blush on your cheeks. Without a word, he reached for your hand, pulling you gently closer.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm as the first sounds of the countdown began to echo from inside.

“Happy New Year,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a small, private smile as the world around you blurred.

And as the clock struck midnight and the room erupted in cheers, Aaron kissed you, his hand cradling your face as the noise and the cold and everything else faded away. It was just you and him, standing together at the start of something new, something strong.

Together, you could conquer anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

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elikajinnie · 2 months ago

Text

The Frequency Of A Killer - S.J

P: Killer!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suspense, Teasing, Murder, Attempted Murder, Stalking, Mind Games, Obsessive Behaviour kinda?

Wordcount: + 20k words

Synopsis: After moving to a small town as a horror talk show host, you uncover a deadly cover-up tied to a masked killer. As the bodies pile up, the killer becomes fixated on you. Can you unravel the truth?

a/n: her we go! another killer au but this time its not Heeseung or Ni-ki! We got Jake :) so this is inspired by my fave horror game; killer frequency - 1000% recommend.

---

You were used to the rush, the buzz, and the endless opportunities of the big city. The noise didn’t bother you. Networking came naturally, jobs were abundant, and you’d found your niche in the chaos: hosting a podcast about horror and true crime in a way that set your listeners on edge while keeping them hooked. Your show had skyrocketed to fame, and you’d connected with an entire community of enthusiasts who lived for the thrill, just like you. Life was good. Stable. Yours.

Until your company decided you weren’t “it” anymore.

The justification was laughable—“gender diversity,” they’d said. They wanted to swap you out for some guy, as if trading a seasoned, beloved host for an inexperienced one would make everything magically better. You weren’t buying it, but their minds were made up. No amount of protest or proof of your success could change their decision. And so, you left, refusing to stick around and watch them hand your hard work over to someone who didn’t earn it.

That’s how you found yourself in this small, sleepy town, working for a much smaller company that was trying its hand at podcasts. They hired you on the spot, practically drooling over your experience, and offered you a spot as the host of their horror and true crime segment. It was meant to be a temporary gig, a placeholder until—surely—your old company would come crawling back, begging for you to return.

But a month had passed. One whole, quiet month, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even a courtesy email.

At least this place wasn’t half bad. You had your own little booth, tucked away in the back of the building, with soundproof walls and just enough space to feel like your own world. The show was entirely yours to run—aside from the occasional ad spot they made you slip in—and you had free rein to do what you did best. Even the people weren’t bad.

Especially Beomgyu.

Beomgyu was technically your producer, though most of his job seemed to involve screening calls and chatting with you during breaks. He sat in the booth just across from yours, separated by a thin pane of glass, and had this habit of pulling faces at you whenever you got too serious. At first, you thought he was annoying—this twenty-something with a mop of messy hair and a perpetual smirk—but over time, he’d grown on you.

Tonight was no different. You leaned back in your chair, headphones snug over your ears as you wrapped up the last caller. A woman with a trembling voice had called in to share a local ghost story about the old mill at the edge of town, and you’d expertly guided her through the tale, adding just the right amount of suspense and curiosity to keep your listeners hooked.

When the call ended, you glanced over at Beomgyu through the glass. He was grinning, spinning lazily in his chair, and holding up a piece of paper with “9/10” scrawled on it in bold, black ink.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him off with a smirk. He just laughed, pointing to the mic to remind you you were still live.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, turning back to the soundboard. “That’s all the time we have for tonight. Thanks for tuning in, and as always—lock your doors, check under your bed, and don’t trust the shadows.”

The outro music played, and you switched off your mic with a satisfied sigh.

“Not bad,” Beomgyu teased as you stood up, stretching your arms. “But you totally rushed the ending on that last one. Where was the suspense?”

“Where was the suspense?” you echoed mockingly, grabbing a cup of coffee off the table and taking a sip. “How about I’m the professional, and you’re just the guy who answers phones?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. One day, I’m gonna take over your job and show you how it’s really done.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’d last five minutes before you started talking about aliens or some weird conspiracy theory.”

He grinned. “You know me so well.”

The night started off normal enough. You sat at the small desk in the break area, sipping on a lukewarm coffee Beomgyu had somehow convinced you to grab for him before realizing you needed one for yourself too. He lounged across from you, feet propped up on the edge of the table like he owned the place, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“So,” he started casually, tilting his head with that usual lopsided grin of his, “what’s it like being a big-shot city person stuck in our little backwater town?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “First of all, you act like I came here voluntarily. Second, backwater’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I call it like I see it. You’ve been here a month and you still can’t hide the ‘get me out of here’ look on your face.”

“Maybe because I’m waiting for my old company to realize they made the worst mistake of their lives.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And when they don’t? What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “There’s no Plan B, because Plan A is going to work. They’ll come crawling back. Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a doubtful look. “Sure, sure. But admit it—this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet, no traffic, and the rent is dirt cheap. I bet your apartment here is, like, three times bigger than whatever shoebox you had back in the city.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “The cost of living here is nice. And I don’t hate the peace and quiet. But the thing about big cities? There’s always something happening. People, events, opportunities. It’s like… the energy keeps you alive, you know?”

Beomgyu chuckled, twirling the pen like he was in some kind of drumline. “Sounds exhausting. You city people thrive on chaos. Meanwhile, out here, we’ve got… cows. And maybe a parade if you’re lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that bad here. I just… I’m not used to it yet.”

“Give it time,” he said, leaning forward like he was about to share a secret. “Pretty soon, you’ll be one of us. Walking slow, waving at strangers, knowing everyone’s business…”

You grimaced. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

Beomgyu laughed so hard he nearly knocked over his coffee. He was still grinning when he asked, “So what was it like, though? Your old job, I mean. The fancy podcast thing.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You could still remember it clearly—the studio, the buzz of the city outside, the adrenaline rush of knowing your audience was hanging on to your every word.

“It was…” you began, searching for the right word. “It was everything I wanted, for a while. I worked my way up, you know? Started small, built an audience, found my voice. It was a grind, but it was worth it.”

Beomgyu nodded, his expression more serious now. “So what went wrong?”

You sighed, tracing your finger along the rim of your cup. “They wanted to ‘freshen things up.’ Change the direction of the show. Apparently, a guy hosting would bring in a ‘different perspective.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Beomgyu said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, well, tell that to them.” You shrugged, masking the sting with a bitter smile. “They thought it was a good idea. I didn’t.”

“Idiots,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this than some random guy.”

“Thanks,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “I’ll remind them of that when they come groveling.”

Then the clock on the wall chimed, reminding you it was time to start the show.

“Alright, back to work,” you said, standing up and stretching. “Don’t let me catch you slacking, Beomgyu.”

“Me? Slack? Never,” he replied, mock-offended as he followed you toward the booth.

The show started as usual—smooth, easy, familiar. The first few callers were locals sharing urban legends, strange encounters, and the occasional eerie coincidence. Beomgyu stayed in his booth across from you, laughing silently at your quips and holding up cards with goofy doodles to make you break character mid-recording.

But then, midway through the second hour, a call came through that made your stomach drop.

Beomgyu patched it through with his usual nonchalance, giving you a thumbs-up from the other side of the glass. “Line three,” he mouthed.

“Hello,” you said into the mic, your voice steady despite the sudden shift in the air. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

There was a long pause. Too long. Static crackled faintly on the other end.

Then, a voice you didn’t recognize—low, and far too calm—spoke.

“Do you ever wonder if someone’s watching you right now?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You forced a laugh, playing it off for your listeners. “Well, I guess I should hope so—otherwise, what’s the point of doing a live show?”

The voice didn’t laugh. “No,” it said. “I mean really watching you. Right now.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms. You glanced toward Beomgyu, who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going.

“I think that’s a little too vague to count as a story,” you said, keeping your tone light. “Care to elaborate?”

The line went silent for a moment, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time.

“Check your window.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned instinctively to the window beside your booth. It was dark outside, the glass reflecting nothing but the dim glow of your equipment.

Nothing was there.

But the voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly, sending a chill down your spine.

“Gotcha,” it said, before the call abruptly disconnected.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones, pulling you out of the eerie fog left by the last caller.

“That was… weird,” he said, leaning closer to his mic in the booth across from you. You could see his reflection in the glass, brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, what window? We’re on the second floor. Unless there’s some really tall guy with a ladder out there, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you reached for your cup of water, trying to shake off the chill creeping up your spine. “Right? Probably some wannabe prank caller. People love to act spooky when they know they’re live.”

“Yeah, but that voice?” Beomgyu leaned back, tapping his fingers against his desk. “It didn’t sound like someone joking. It sounded… I don’t know. Off.”

“Let’s not overthink it,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the unease settling in your chest. “Weird calls are part of the job, right? It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, but his usual playful grin didn’t return. His eyes flickered to the window behind you, then back to his desk as if trying to distract himself.

Before either of you could dwell on it further, the phone lit up again. Another call.

“Line two,” Beomgyu said, pressing the button to patch it through.

You straightened in your seat, slipping your headphones back on. “You’re on the air. What’s your name, and what story do you have for us tonight?”

This time, the voice on the other end was hurried, shaky, and unmistakably real.

“This is Officer Park from the Greenfield Police Department,” a woman said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I—God, I don’t even know who else to call right now. I just got back to the station—was out getting donuts for the night shift—and when I walked in, I found…”

She stopped, her voice catching on a sob. Your stomach twisted.

“You found what?” you asked gently, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Beomgyu through the glass.

“Two of the officers—two of my coworkers,” the woman stammered. “They’ve been stabbed. One of them… one of them’s already gone. The other one is still alive, barely. I called for backup, but closest units are at least five hours away, and I don’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu’s jaw dropped as he mouthed, Is this for real?

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of your desk. “Okay, Officer Park, take a deep breath,” you said, your tone steady even though your heart was racing. “Are you somewhere safe right now?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath hitching. “I locked myself in the back office. But whoever did this—they could still be here. I didn’t see anyone when I came in, but… Oh, God, what if they’re still inside?”

You leaned closer to your mic, your voice low but firm. “Okay, listen to me. First, you did the right thing by calling for backup. Stay where you are, keep the door locked, and don’t make any noise. Do you have your weapon on you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good,” you said. “And the officer who’s still alive—do you know if they’re in immediate danger? Can you hear or see them from where you are?”

“They’re out in the main lobby,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I can hear them—barely. They’re trying to say something, but I can’t make it out. I think they’re losing consciousness.”

Your pulse quickened as you considered the situation. This wasn’t just some urban legend or creepy caller—this was real, and someone’s life was on the line.

“Okay, Officer Park, here’s what we’re going to do,” you said, keeping your tone as calm as possible. “Do you have anything with you—first aid supplies, even a jacket—anything you can use to stabilize them if you go out there?”

“There’s a med kit in the office,” she said.

“Good. Grab it. But listen—only go out there if you’re sure it’s safe. Move quickly, quietly, and keep your weapon ready. Check the corners, and don’t let your guard down. If you hear or see anything suspicious, you come right back to the office and lock the door. Do you understand?”

There was a long pause. Then she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Stay on the line with us,” you said, glancing at Beomgyu, who was already typing furiously on his laptop, probably trying to look up news reports or police scanner updates. “We’re not going anywhere.”

You could hear her moving, her breathing shaky but determined as she whispered, “I’m opening the door.”

Your own breath hitched as you listened to the faint creak of a door opening on her end.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly. “I’m stepping out now.”

The seconds dragged on like hours as you listened to her footsteps, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in the background.

“I see him,” she whispered. “He’s—oh, God, he’s bleeding so much. I’m going to try to stop it.”

You could hear her fumbling with the med kit, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. Help is on the way.”

Your pulse pounded as Officer Park’s frantic movements came through the line. You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, trying to calm both her and yourself.

"Officer Park," you said firmly, leaning closer to the mic. "Listen to me. You need to arm yourself before doing anything else. Do you have access to any weapons right now?"

She hesitated for a moment, her breathing quick. "There’s a weapons locker in the office, but the keys are… they’re on one of the officers."

“Okay. You need to get those keys from the officer who…” You paused, forcing yourself to stay calm. “The officer who’s gone. You’ll need them if you’re going to get out of there alive. And when backup arrives, they’ll need you armed.”

“I already told you,” she whispered sharply. “Backup isn’t coming anytime soon. This is a small town. The nearest station is in the next county over—at least five hours away.”

The weight of her words settled like a stone in your chest. “Then you need to leave now,” you said. “You’ll have to meet them halfway, but you can’t just stay there. Take the surviving officer and get out of the station. Use the police cruiser. Are the keys to the car with the officers too?”

“Probably,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then get them,” you urged. “Check the pockets of the officer who…” You hesitated again, but there wasn’t time for gentleness. “Who’s already gone.”

There was a long pause, followed by a shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear her moving again, her footsteps echoing faintly. Then, muffled rustling as she moved the officer’s body.

“I’ve got them,” she said after a moment, her voice tight. “The car keys. And…” She paused, the sound of a locker creaking open coming through the line. “Weapons. I’ve got pepper spray, a taser, and a baton. Which one should I take?”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who shrugged helplessly. “The taser,” you said decisively. “It’s your best option for close combat if the killer comes back. You’ll still have the element of surprise.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’m taking the taser. And the med kit. I’m going to try to move Officer Kim to the car.”

“Be careful,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “Check your surroundings constantly. Keep the taser in your hand. And whatever you do, stay quiet.”

You listened in tense silence as she dragged the injured officer toward the car, her breaths labored but determined. The sound of a car door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint groans of the wounded officer being carefully placed in the back seat.

“I’ve got him in the car,” Officer Park said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m about to start it.”

“Good,” you said. “Start it quietly and get out of there as fast as you can.”

But just as the engine sputtered to life, a haunting whistle cut through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. It was distant but unmistakable—low and drawn out, carrying an almost mocking tone.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, panic creeping back into her voice. “They’re here. The killer’s here.”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. “Stay calm,” you said. “Lock the doors. Don’t move until you know it’s safe. If they come close, use the taser.”

Through the line, you heard faint footsteps and the sound of shouts—angry, guttural, and close. Then a scuffle broke out.

“They’re trying to break into the car!” Officer Park shouted, her voice shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Use the taser!” you yelled. “Now!”

There was a loud crackling sound, followed by a strangled scream.

“It worked!” she cried out, her voice bursting with relief. “The taser worked! They’re down!”

A second later, the engine roared to life, and the sound of the car speeding away filled the line.

“Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “We’re leaving. I’m heading to the next town over to meet the backup units. It’s about five hours from here—less if I push it.”

“Good,” you said, exhaling slowly. “Just stay safe and focus on the road.”

“One more thing,” she added, her tone suddenly serious. “The emergency police line—it’s been rerouted to you. I couldn’t risk leaving the station unattended, so if anyone in town calls for help, it’ll go to your line instead.”

You froze, glancing at Beomgyu, who stared back at you with wide eyes.

“Wait,” you said, your stomach sinking. “What are we supposed to do if the killer targets someone else?”

“You’re going to have to help them,” she said grimly. “Until we can get backup to the town, you’re the only ones who can.”

The line went dead, leaving you and Beomgyu sitting in stunned silence, the weight of her words settling over you like a storm cloud.

“Uh… what the hell just happened?” Beomgyu finally said, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t answer, your mind racing as you stared at the blinking lights on the phone.

Somewhere out there, the killer was still on the loose. And now, the entire town was counting on you.

After a while the familiar ring of the phone jolted you from your thoughts, the sudden sound piercing the tense silence that had settled in the booth. Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headphones.

“Line three,” he said.

You nodded to Beomgyu, signaling for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, adjusting your mic.

“I—oh, no, no, I think I called the wrong number,” a woman stammered, her voice trembling. “I was trying to call the police. There’s—there’s someone after me.”

Your heart sank as you exchanged a quick glance with Beomgyu through the glass. “You didn’t call the wrong number,” you explained quickly. “The emergency line is being rerouted to us temporarily. But you’re not alone—we’re here to help. Just tell us where you are and what’s happening.”

The woman hesitated for a moment, her breath audible over the line. “I just left the gym. I’m trying to get to my car, but there’s this… man. He’s following me. He has a knife, I’m sure of it.”

A faint whistle echoed in the background of the call, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The woman gasped, her voice rising in panic.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. Why didn’t I stay home?”

You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. “Listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “Don’t stop. Keep moving toward your car. You can do this.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you’re doing great. Just keep going. Focus on your breathing and keep moving. We’re not going anywhere—we’ve got you.”

The sound of her hurried footsteps came through the line, along with her ragged breathing.

“I see my car,” she said, relief creeping into her voice. “I’m almost there.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Good. Get in and lock the doors immediately. Don’t worry about starting it until you’re inside and safe.”

A moment later, there was the faint sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.

“I made it,” she said, exhaling shakily. “I’m in.”

“Great job,” you said, feeling a small surge of relief. “Now start the car and drive somewhere safe—”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, her voice rising in panic again. “No, no, no! I—I forgot my keys. They’re still in the gym!”

Your stomach dropped.

Beomgyu’s voice came through your headphones before you could respond. “Wait,” he said, leaning closer to his mic. “One guy—one who works here. I’ve seen him reading magazines about car maintenance in the breakroom. He might’ve had something about starting a car without keys.”

You blinked at him, hope flickering. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Beomgyu said. “I saw him reading one earlier this week.”

You muted the line to the woman briefly, turning back to Beomgyu. “Where did he leave it?”

“Probably in his office,” Beomgyu said with a shrug. “You’ll have to look for it.”

With a deep breath, you stood up. “Keep her talking. Keep her calm until I get back,” you said, pulling off your headphones.

Beomgyu gave you a thumbs up as you left the booth, closing the door behind you.

You made your way toward the offices, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floor. The darkened corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, but you finally reached the office. The door creaked as you pushed it open.

The room was cluttered, papers and other stuff scattered across the desks. You rifled through the mess, searching for the magazine Beomgyu had mentioned, but it was nowhere to be found.

Sighing, you were about to give up when a folded piece of paper caught your eye on the desk. Curious, you unfolded it.

Borrowed the car magazine for some light reading. Left it in the bathroom. -J

You frowned, squinting at the note. The bathroom? Of course.

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the men’s bathroom, the unease in your chest growing with each step. Standing outside the door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.

The air inside was still, the lights flickering slightly. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on the floor of one of the stalls. Sure enough, there it was—a magazine, its glossy cover faintly reflecting the dim light.

Bracing yourself, you stepped into the stall and grabbed it. Clutching the magazine, you made your way back to the booth as quickly as possible, the tension in your chest finally easing as the familiar glow of the studio came into view.

Sliding back into your seat, you slipped on your headphones. “Got it,” you said, flipping through the pages.

“About time,” Beomgyu muttered, relief in his voice. “She’s still in the car. Freaking out, but holding it together.”

“Alright,” you said, scanning the pages for anything useful. “Let’s get her out of there.”

You flipped quickly through the magazine, scanning each page for something useful. Beomgyu, still connected to the call, was murmuring reassurances to the woman, keeping her calm as best as he could. Finally, near the back of the magazine, you spotted a section titled: “How to Start a Car Without Keys—In Emergencies Only!”

Bingo.

You unmuted the call, speaking quickly. “Okay, I’ve got instructions here. It’s a little complicated, but we’re going to get you out of there. Are you ready to listen?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Please, just tell me what to do.”

“Alright. First, do you see the steering column? You’ll need to take off the plastic cover underneath it.”

“The plastic cover?” she repeated, her voice filled with uncertainty.

“Yes. There should be a seam where it comes apart. Can you find it?”

There was a rustling sound, followed by a faint click. “I—I see it. I think I can pry it open.”

“Good. Use anything sharp—a nail file, a keychain, anything to pop it off,” you instructed.

A few tense seconds passed, the sound of fumbling and grunting filling the line.

“Got it!” she said suddenly. “It’s off.”

“Perfect. Now, you should see some wires underneath,” you continued, flipping the magazine around to get a better look at the diagram. “There will be three sets: power, ignition, and ground. Look for the ones connected to the ignition—they’re usually red and yellow. Do you see them?”

“Wait… yes, yes, I see them!” she said, her breathing slightly more controlled now.

“Okay, here’s the tricky part,” you said carefully. “You need to strip the ends of the ignition wires—just the plastic coating—so the metal is exposed. Do you have anything sharp, like a knife or scissors?”

“Uh… I have a nail file,” she said after a moment.

“That works. Carefully scrape the plastic off, but don’t cut the wires. Just expose the metal underneath. Take your time.”

The sound of her scraping at the wires filled the silence, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Beomgyu, who gave you a reassuring nod.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ve got the wires stripped. What now?”

“Good. Now you’re going to twist the exposed ends of the ignition wires together. That should create a spark to start the car. But be ready—the second it starts, drive away. Don’t wait around.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m doing it now.”

There was a faint crackling sound, followed by a sputtering noise. Then, suddenly, the low rumble of an engine filled the line.

“It worked!” she cried, her voice breaking with relief. “It actually worked!”

“Great job!” you said, unable to stop the smile forming on your face. “Now get out of there. Drive somewhere safe—somewhere well-lit with other people around. Don’t stop until you’re absolutely sure you’re safe.”

You could hear the roar of the car accelerating, the relief in her voice evident as she spoke. “I’m driving now. Oh, my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, your own voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “Just focus on the road. Call us back if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay. I will,” she said. “Thank you again. I—I think I might’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Just keep driving,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters now.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Beomgyu alone in the booth. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, tossing the magazine onto the desk. “But if it hadn’t… I don’t even want to think about it.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “So… what do we do if someone else calls?”

You didn’t have an answer, your thoughts already spiraling with what-ifs. All you could do was hope the rest of the night stayed quiet.

The phone rang again, its shrill tone cutting through the uneasy silence that had settled in the booth. You adjusted your mic and nodded to Beomgyu. He patched it through with a flick of a switch, signaling with his finger for you to go ahead.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering tension from the last call.

“Hey, yeah, uh, is this the emergency line?” a cheery voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is the emergency line. What’s your situation?” you asked, leaning forward, bracing yourself for whatever this might be.

“Well,” the man began, his tone casual, “I just wanted to let everyone know that Hanseung’s Pizza is open late tonight, and we’re offering a two-for-one deal on our large pepperoni pies!”

You froze, your hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Are you serious right now?”

“Totally serious! Best pizza in town!”

You groaned audibly and disconnected the call before the man could say another word. Leaning back in your chair, you rubbed your temples as Beomgyu snorted with laughter.

When you glanced at him through the glass, he made a circular gesture next to his temple, miming crazy.

“I swear,” you muttered, pulling your headphones off briefly, “this night is going to kill me.”

Beomgyu gave you a lopsided grin, but before he could say anything, the phone rang again.

“Here we go,” he said, flipping the switch to route the call to you.

You sighed, sliding your headphones back on. “You’re on the air,” you said cautiously.

“H-hello?” a man’s voice came through, low and shaky.

“This is the emergency line,” you said gently. “What’s going on?”

“I—I’m still at work,” the man said, his words trembling as he spoke. “I stayed late to finish up inventory, and I… I saw someone on the cameras. He’s outside. He’s wearing a white mask, and he’s holding a knife. He’s on the first floor now.”

Your heart sank as a chill ran down your spine. “Okay, stay calm,” you said quickly. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m on the second floor,” he said. “In the main office. But… but there’s nowhere to hide. The only room I can lock is the storage closet, and the lock is on the outside. What do I do?”

You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you exchanged a tense glance with Beomgyu. “Alright, listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. Let’s think through this carefully.”

“I don’t have much time,” the man whispered, panic rising in his voice. “He’s coming in. I can see him on the camera feed.”

You flipped through options in your mind, trying to think of anything that could give him a chance. The storage room could work, but locking it from the outside meant he’d be trapping himself unless…

“Wait,” you said suddenly. “Does your office phone system let you call internal lines? Like phones in other rooms?”

“Yes,” the man said quickly. “I can call any phone in the building from here.”

“Perfect,” you said, sitting up straighter. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to distract him. You’re going to call one of the phones on the first floor, and when it rings, he’ll go to investigate. Once he’s distracted, you’re going to quietly make your way down the back staircase and get out of the building. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, his breathing quick and shallow. “I can do that. I think.”

“You can do this,” you said firmly. “Now, do you know which phone to call?”

“Yes,” he said. “The one by the front desk. It’s closest to where he is.”

“Good. Call it now,” you instructed. “Once it starts ringing, wait a few seconds to make sure he’s moving toward it. Then make your way out. Go as quietly as you can. Don’t hang up until you’re outside and safe, alright?”

“Okay,” he whispered.

There was a pause as you heard him pressing buttons on the phone. A few seconds later, the faint sound of a phone ringing echoed faintly through his line.

“He’s moving,” the man whispered. “I can see him on the camera. He’s going to the front desk.”

“Perfect,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “Now’s your chance. Go.”

The sound of his shaky breathing filled the line as he moved. You held your breath, listening intently as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s still at the desk,” the man whispered. “I’m almost at the back door.”

“Keep going,” you urged. “You’re doing great.”

A faint creak came through the line, followed by a quiet click.

“I’m outside,” the man said, his voice trembling with relief. “I’m out.”

You exhaled, the tension in your chest loosening slightly. “Good. Get as far away from the building as you can. Get somewhere safe with other people around.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”

“Just stay safe,” you said softly. “That’s all that matters.”

The line disconnected, leaving you staring at the phone for a moment, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “That’s two lives saved tonight,” he said. “Not bad for a couple of radio hosts, huh?”

You gave him a shaky smile, but the thought lingering in your mind was anything but reassuring.

Whoever was out there wasn’t done yet.

The phone rang again. For a moment, you and Beomgyu exchanged wary glances through the glass between your booths. After everything tonight, you’d learned to expect the worst. With a deep breath, you answered.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Bravo,” a smooth, amused voice purred on the other end. “Really. I’m impressed.”

Your brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’ve been handling these calls tonight,” the man continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Guiding these poor, helpless souls to safety. It’s been a pleasure to listen to. You’re very clever, you know that?”

Something about his voice set you on edge—it wasn’t rushed or panicked like the others you’d spoken to tonight. It was calm. Too calm.

“Who is this?” you asked, your voice tightening.

“Let’s just say I’m… someone who’s been keeping an eye on things,” he replied, his tone playful. “And I have to admit, you’ve made my night much more entertaining than I anticipated.”

Your stomach twisted as realization hit you like a punch to the gut. “It’s you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle came through the line, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice laced with mockery. “Yes, it’s me. The one you’ve been so desperately trying to outsmart all night. And I have to say, you’ve done quite well.”

You clenched your jaw, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “Why are you calling?”

“To see you squirm,” he teased. “And to thank you, of course. You’ve made this little game so much more fun than I thought it would be. Honestly, you’re much more entertaining than the usual people around here. They’re so… predictable.”

You refused to let him get under your skin, even as his voice sent an unbidden flush to your cheeks. You hated the way his words made your pulse quicken, a reaction you absolutely didn’t want to have.

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” you snapped, trying to focus on your anger rather than the unsettling heat rising in your face.

“Of course it’s a game,” he said smoothly. “But don’t misunderstand me—I’m not underestimating you. In fact, I think you’re the most interesting piece on the board. I wonder… how long can you keep this up? How long before I catch you slipping?”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly forced yourself to focus. You couldn’t let him distract you with his taunting, no matter how strangely… confident and alluring his voice sounded. You hadn’t thought about dating or men since moving to the town—your life had been far too busy. And now here you were, getting flustered by the very man terrorizing the town.

“Do you have anything better to do than terrorize people?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He chuckled again, low and lazy, like you’d just amused him. “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said, and you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, don’t get so defensive,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just saying, it’s refreshing. I like a bit of fire in my conversations. The others? They just scream and cry. Boring. But not you. I like that.”

Your grip on the desk tightened further, your mind racing. You couldn’t let him get to you, but the way he spoke—like he was in complete control, like he knew exactly how to unnerve you—it was maddening.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“For now? Just to chat,” he said casually. “I thought you deserved some recognition for your efforts. And maybe a little warning…”

Your stomach churned. “A warning?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “You’re clever, but don’t think you’re untouchable. I’ve been generous so far, letting you play the hero. But don’t get too comfortable. I’m always watching, and if you’re not careful, this little game of ours might get a whole lot more personal.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to let your fear show. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s supposed to excite you.”

The line went dead before you could respond, leaving you staring at the phone, your mind a chaotic mess of fear, anger, and, much to your dismay, something else you didn’t want to name.

Beomgyu’s voice crackled through your headset. “Uh… what the hell just happened?”

You turned to look at him, your face still flushed. “I think the killer just… flirted with me?”

Beomgyu blinked, his mouth falling open slightly before he shook his head. “This town is actually so messed up.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

The phone rang again, piercing through the tense silence that had settled in the booth. You and Beomgyu exchanged a glance, both of you bracing yourselves for whatever might come next. You adjusted your headphones and gestured for him to patch it through.

“You’re on the air,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease crawling up your spine.

“H-he’s coming,” a woman’s voice stammered, her tone high-pitched and frantic. “Oh God, the dead—they’ve risen! The dead are rising!”

You froze, caught off guard by the sheer hysteria in her voice. “Ma’am, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening,” you said, keeping your tone calm and firm. “Who’s coming? What do you mean the dead are rising?”

“It’s karma,” she said, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush. “I’ve done bad things. So many bad things. And now he’s coming for me."

“Okay, I need you to slow down,” you urged, sitting forward in your chair. “Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

“I thought I was,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “But he’s here. He’s come back. They know what I’ve done. He knows—”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Ma’am?” you said quickly, checking the call screen. You tried dialing the number back, your heart pounding, but the line just rang and rang before going to voicemail.

Beomgyu leaned forward in his booth, frowning as he studied the call log. “That was Dr. Lee,” he said, his voice low.

“Dr. Lee?” you asked, your mind racing.

“She’s one of the town’s doctors,” Beomgyu explained, crossing his arms. “Well… was a doctor. She retired a couple of years ago, but she still gets called in sometimes when the clinic’s short-staffed. People around here have… mixed feelings about her. Some say she’s a great doctor, but others think she’s shady. There’ve been rumors, but nothing ever proven.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind swirling with questions. “She kept saying ‘karma.’ And something about the dead coming for her.”

Beomgyu shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. “She sounded genuinely freaked out.”

“She did,” you muttered, staring at the dead call screen on your monitor. “And she didn’t give me anything to go on. No location, no details… I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Think we should call the clinic? Maybe someone there knows what’s going on.”

You shook your head, though the idea was tempting. “If she wanted their help, she would’ve called them instead of us. I think… I think whatever’s happening, she doesn’t trust anyone in town. Or maybe she thought calling the emergency line was her only option.”

“Well, what do we do now?” Beomgyu asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “There’s not much we can do. She didn’t give us enough information to help. All we can do is wait and see if she calls back.”

Beomgyu nodded reluctantly, though his frown deepened. “Still, the whole ‘dead are rising’ thing? Sounds like someone’s cracking under pressure. Or maybe she’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe,” you said, though her words kept echoing in your mind. The dead have risen. Karma is coming for me.

It sounded ridiculous, but the sheer terror in her voice had felt real. And in this town, you’d already learned to expect the unexpected.

You leaned back in your chair, staring as a heavy silence settled over the room. You hated this helpless feeling, this sense that something was happening just out of your reach. But until she called back—or someone else did—there was nothing you could do except wait.

And worry.

The phone rang again, and you didn’t hesitate to answer this time, though the tension from the earlier calls still lingered in the air like a bad omen.

“You’re on the air,” you said, trying to sound calm and professional, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

“H-hello?” a young voice stammered. “Is this… is this the emergency line?”

“Yes, it is,” you replied quickly. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hyein,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I—I need help. Someone’s after me and my friends.”

Your stomach dropped. “Where are you, Hyein? Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at… we’re at this old junkyard,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We were just hanging out, but now there’s this guy—he’s wearing a white mask, and—”

“Okay, Hyein, listen to me,” you interrupted, keeping your voice steady. “You need to find somewhere safe. Is there a place you can hide? A building, a car, anything?”

“Um, there’s a shed,” she said, her voice shaky. “But—”

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted through the line, making your heart lurch.

“Hyein? Hyein, what’s happening?”

There was a muffled commotion on the other end, followed by… laughter?

A new voice chimed in, a boy’s voice, cracking as he burst into fits of giggles. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face, Hyein!”

“What the hell, Jansoon?!” Hyein shouted, her fear quickly replaced by anger. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your shoulders relax slightly. “Hyein, what’s going on?”

“It’s just Jansoon,” she said, her voice still shaking but now tinged with irritation. “He’s being an idiot, running around with a fake knife and a stupid mask. I thought—”

But before she could finish, another scream cut through the air—this one high-pitched and blood-curdling.

“Jansoon? Jansoon, stop messing around!” Hyein shouted, her voice rising in panic.

Then came the sound of something wet and grotesque—a sickening squelch, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Oh my God,” Hyein whispered, her voice trembling again. “Run! Everyone, run inside!”

“Hyein! Hyein, what’s happening?” you demanded, gripping the edge of the desk.

“A man,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “A man in a white mask—he just—he just killed Jansoon. He killed him!”

Your stomach churned as Beomgyu’s eyes went wide in the booth across from you.

“Hyein, listen to me,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You need to get somewhere safe. Stay with your friends and lock yourselves in. Keep the line open—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice shaky but determined. “We… we’re setting up a plan. We’ll distract him so we can get away. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Hyein, wait—”

The line went dead.

You sat there for a moment, staring at the monitor as your heart hammered in your chest. Slowly, you took off your headset and set it down on the desk, letting out a shaky breath.

“Did that really just happen?” Beomgyu asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “It did.”

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “This town is insane. First the doctor, now a group of kids in a junkyard? What’s next, a clown at a carnival?”

You couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his booth and staring at the ceiling. “This is so stressful. I mean, we’re just two people in a radio station. We’re not trained for this.”

“No, we’re not,” you agreed, rubbing your temples. “But we’re all these people have right now.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his expression was grim. “I just hope that girl and her friends make it out. That killer… he’s not messing around.”

The phone rang again, and this time, your heart jumped in anticipation. You quickly signaled to Beomgyu, who patched the call through.

“Hyein?” you asked urgently.

“It’s me,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steadier than before. “We—we’ve got a plan. We’re going to get out of here.”

You exhaled in relief but quickly focused. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There are four of us left,” she explained. “Minji’s going to watch him, make sure we know where he is at all times. Jaemin is going to distract him—make noise and lead him away from the van. Doyeon’s going to act as bait, keeping his attention long enough for me to grab Jansoon’s keys and get the van started.”

You felt a mix of pride and fear for these kids. “That’s… brave, Hyein. Really brave. Are you sure you can pull this off?”

“We don’t have a choice,” she replied, her voice tightening. “We can’t just wait for him to find us all. We have to do something.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Stick to the plan. Be quick, be careful, and don’t hesitate. You can do this.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll call you back once we’re out.”

The line disconnected, leaving you and Beomgyu in an anxious silence.

“They’re kids,” Beomgyu muttered, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the monitor as if willing Hyein to call back with good news.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your mind racing with every worst-case scenario. Finally, the phone rang again.

“Hyein?” you answered quickly.

“We did it,” she said, her voice breathless but triumphant. “We did the plan. Minji kept an eye on him while Jaemin distracted him with a bunch of noise. He fell for it—totally chased after Jaemin. Then Doyeon lured him even further away, and I grabbed the keys.”

“That’s incredible,” you said, genuine admiration in your voice. “You’re all so brave.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not over yet. We got the van started, but there’s a problem. The doors to the junkyard—they’re stuck. Someone has to hold them open so we can drive through.”

Your heart sank. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I volunteered,” she said quietly.

“Hyein—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead again, and you sat frozen, a deep dread settling over you.

Beomgyu leaned forward, his expression tight with worry. “They better not leave her behind.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the gnawing feeling in your gut.

When the phone rang again, you answered immediately.

“Hyein?”

“I’m still here,” she said, her voice shaking. “I got the doors open, but…”

You heard her inhale sharply, and your stomach dropped.

“But what?” you asked.

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s right in front of me.”

Your grip tightened on the desk. “Hyein, listen to me. Don’t run. Don’t make any sudden moves. Just—just stay calm.”

She let out a choked sob. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you said firmly, though your own voice trembled. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’re doing great.”

There was a long silence on the other end, broken only by her quiet, panicked breaths.

“Hyein?”

“He’s…” Her voice was barely audible now. “He’s walking away.”

“What?” you asked, your mind reeling.

“He just… turned around and walked off. Into the forest.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “He left you? Just like that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion and fear. “Why? Why would he do that?”

You didn’t have an answer. None of this made sense.

“I don’t know,” you admitted finally. “But you’re alive, Hyein. That’s what matters. Get to safety. Get back to your friends.”

“Okay,” she said softly, though her voice was still trembling. “Thank you.”

When the call ended, you sat back in your chair, your mind spinning.

“What the hell was that?” Beomgyu asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring at the empty screen. “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the tension in the room hung like a heavy fog. It was 3:17 a.m. when the phone rang again, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence.

You leaned forward and answered, trying to keep the fatigue out of your voice. "You’re on the air."

For a moment, there was just static and the faint sound of someone breathing. Then a male voice, low and shaky, spoke.

"This is... this is so scary," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You straightened in your seat, your exhaustion replaced by unease. "What’s scary? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I’m at home," he said. "But I keep hearing things outside. Footsteps. Whistling. I’ve locked all the doors and windows, but it doesn’t feel like enough. This… this town isn’t supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be quiet. Safe."

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. "I understand. It’s been a rough night for everyone, but you’ve done the right thing by securing your home. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Do you have anyone you can call to stay with you?"

"No," he muttered. "I live alone."

His voice broke slightly on the last word, and your chest tightened. "Okay. Listen to me. You’re not alone right now, all right? I’m here. If anything happens, you call me back immediately."

There was a long pause before he whispered, "Thanks."

Then the line went dead.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Beomgyu, who had been silently watching you from his booth, gave you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"You’re handling this like a pro," he said.

"I’m just trying to keep people calm," you replied, though the weight of the night was starting to press down on you.

The hours crawled by, the silence in the studio broken only by the occasional hum of equipment and the distant sound of a car passing on the street. It was around 4:30 a.m. when the phone rang again.

Your heart leapt as you quickly picked it up. "You’re on the air."

"It’s me," a familiar voice said.

"Hyein?" you asked, relief flooding your voice.

"Yeah," she said, and you could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "We made it. We’re home. All of us, safe. Thanks to you."

A smile tugged at your lips, the first genuine one of the night. "That’s great to hear, Hyein. I’m so glad you’re all okay."

"You… you really helped us," she continued, her voice soft. "I don’t think we would’ve made it without you. I mean, we were so scared, but you kept us focused. Gave us hope."

"That was all you," you replied. "You and your friends were brave. You came up with a plan and stuck to it. You saved yourselves."

There was a pause, and then she said, "Still… thank you."

"Of course," you said, your voice warm. "Now, get some rest. You’ve earned it."

"I will," she promised. "Goodnight… and be careful, okay? I don’t think this is over."

"Goodnight, Hyein," you said softly before the line went dead.

You set the phone down and leaned back in your chair, exhaling slowly. Beomgyu looked over at you, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

"At least there’s some good news," he said.

"Yeah," you murmured, though Hyein’s parting words echoed in your mind.

I don’t think this is over.

And deep down, you knew she was right.

The phone rang again, cutting through the brief calm. Unknown caller. You knew who it was even before you answered.

"Let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re calling to congratulate me on something, right?"

A soft, mocking chuckle came through the line, chilling and deliberate. "You’re starting to understand how this works," the killer said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But no congratulations this time. Just a little... advice."

You gripped the phone tighter. "And what kind of advice would that be?"

"Dr. Lee," he drawled, his tone teasing. "She seemed... stressed earlier, didn’t she? Want to know what really happened to her?"

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

He chuckled again. "Pick something up for me, and maybe I’ll give you a clue. Check the alleyway behind your building. I left you a little surprise."

Beomgyu immediately leaned toward his microphone, shaking his head vehemently as he heard the exchange. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed, his face pale.

But the killer wasn’t done. "Go on," he said, his tone turning low and taunting. "Be brave. Or stay in your booth and let the mystery eat away at you. Your choice."

And then the line went dead.

"Don’t even think about it," Beomgyu said, his voice cutting through the silence. "He’s baiting you. It’s a trap."

You turned to him, trying to muster some confidence. "If it’s a trap, then it’s a bad one. He wouldn’t tip his hand like this if he really wanted me dead."

"Or maybe that’s exactly what he wants you to think," Beomgyu countered. "Don’t go."

But you were already getting up. "I’ll be fine. Stay here and keep the phones running."

Beomgyu sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “you’re insane.”

You left the booth, stepping into the hallway. The silence of the empty building was oppressive, and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights above did little to calm your nerves. Descending the staircase, each step felt louder than the last, echoing in the quiet.

At the bottom, you approached the glass front doors. Outside was nothing but darkness, the alleyway barely illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp in the distance.

You tried the door. Locked.

Frowning, you turned back and made your way behind the reception desk, where the backdoor led to the alleyway. Pushing it open, the cool night air hit you immediately, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and garbage.

The alley was narrow and lined with dumpsters, shadows stretching and shifting in the dim light. You hesitated, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

Then, you saw it.

An old, stained mattress lay discarded against the wall, and on top of it was something that made your stomach drop—a bloodied ID card.

Your hands trembled as you approached, the name and face on the card coming into focus. Dr. Lee.

You bent down, your breath hitching as you picked it up. The blood was dry but unmistakable, the edges of the card sticky.

You turned it over in your hands, a cold dread creeping up your spine. What did this mean? Was she—

A rustling sound.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Slowly, you looked up, scanning the alleyway. There was nothing.

But past the fence, just beyond the edge of the alley, you could feel it—someone was watching you.

The air seemed to thicken, your skin prickling with unease. You couldn’t see anyone, but the presence was unmistakable.

Swallowing hard, you clenched the ID card in your hand and straightened up, forcing your legs to move. You turned and walked back toward the door, refusing to look back, even as the sensation of being watched grew stronger.

You reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shaking the handle one more time as if sheer willpower could force it open. The sensation of being watched lingered, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

The sound of something faintly rustling outside sent a jolt of panic through you. You turned away from the door, scanning the dimly lit alley for another option. That’s when your eyes landed on the basement access door.

You cursed under your breath, knowing it was your only choice. "Great," you mumbled sarcastically, stepping toward it. Pushing the creaky door open, you descended the narrow staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the faint smell of mildew and rust wrapping around you like a damp blanket.

At the bottom, you reached a landing, the dim glow of an old overhead light flickering ominously. Shadows danced across the walls, making everything feel smaller and more claustrophobic.

Trying the first door, you found it locked. So was the next. You kept moving, your footsteps echoing faintly in the eerie silence. Finally, you reached a door that opened easily.

You stepped inside cautiously, your phone flashlight illuminating what could only be described as the janitor’s office—or, more accurately, a forgotten relic of one. The room was cramped and chaotic, filled with old supplies, broken equipment, and… mannequins?

You froze for a moment, your light catching the lifeless forms of several mannequins standing in one corner. Their chipped paint and blank expressions made your stomach twist. Who keeps mannequins in a basement office?

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this is officially creepy.”

Pushing past the eerie sight, your flashlight settled on the far wall, where a corkboard hung. You stepped closer, curiosity outweighing your unease.

The board was covered in newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes. Your pulse quickened as you scanned the array of items.

The photos were of people—townsfolk, by the looks of it. Some of the faces you recognized, including Dr. Lee. Others were strangers. Some pictures had red X’s drawn across them. Others were circled.

The clippings were just as unsettling. Headlines like “Local Man Disappears Without a Trace” and “Small-Town Tragedy: Young Man Found Dead” leapt out at you, along with handwritten notes like “Knew too much” and “Still watching.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, taking a step back.

You huffed, grabbing the corkboard from the wall and tucking it under your arm. Whatever this was, it wasn’t staying down here. You needed to get it upstairs, show Beomgyu, and figure out what the hell was going on.

The mannequins seemed closer than before as you turned to leave, but you tried to shake off the unease crawling up your spine.

"Don’t think about it," you muttered, stepping back out into the hallway.

With the corkboard in tow, you made your way back toward the stairs, trying not to think about how quiet everything felt.

Back in the booth, you placed the corkboard on the desk, your fingers trembling as you leaned over it. Beomgyu hovered behind you, peering at the chaotic arrangement of photos, clippings, and notes.

"Okay," you muttered, mostly to yourself. "This is a pattern. It has to be."

Your eyes scanned the board feverishly, focusing on the photos of the townsfolk. There were three with red X’s—you recognized two as victims you’d already heard about. The doctor’s photo, Dr. Lee, was circled in red but had no X, at least not yet.

The notes were cryptic but telling: "Knew too much." "Always works late."

Your heart skipped a beat as you landed on a photo of a man you vaguely recognized from a newspaper clipping you’d seen earlier—James Choi, the owner of the general store. His picture was circled too, with a note scribbled beside it: “Stays late, alone.”

You felt your stomach churn. “Beomgyu, who’s James Choi?”

Beomgyu squinted at the board. "James? Oh, he runs that little general store by the gas station. Nice guy, kind of quiet. Why?"

You jabbed your finger at his photo. “He’s next. Look at the notes. It’s all here—he works late, and the killer knows it. We need to call him now.”

Beomgyu grabbed the phone without hesitation, quickly dialing the number written on a post-it note you’d found pinned to the corner of the board. You paced nervously as the phone rang.

"Come on, pick up," Beomgyu muttered.

Finally, a voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Choi?” Beomgyu asked, his voice tight. “This is from the late-night show—listen, we don’t have much time. Are you still at the store?”

James sounded confused. “Uh, yeah? Why? What’s this about?”

You leaned in, speaking quickly. “You’re in danger. You need to leave now. Grab your keys, get in your car, and just drive. Don’t ask questions, don’t wait—just go.”

There was a pause. “Danger? What are you talking about? This some kind of prank?”

“It’s not a prank,” you snapped, your voice rising in urgency. “There’s someone—”

The sound of something crashing interrupted James on the other end of the line, followed by a low, guttural noise that made your blood run cold.

“James?” Beomgyu called, his voice cracking. “James, what’s going on?”

The line went silent for a moment, the faint sound of labored breathing coming through. And then—

“Well, well,” came a familiar, taunting voice.

Your stomach dropped as the killer’s smooth, mocking tone filled the line. “You tried,” he said, almost lazily, like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll give you credit for that. But you’re just not fast enough, are you?”

Your hands clenched into fists. “You son of a—”

“Ah-ah,” the killer interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. “No need for name-calling. I’m just doing what I do best. And you? Well, you’re doing what you do best—sitting in that little booth, thinking you can save people. How’s that working out for you so far?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”

He laughed, the sound cold and detached. “You really think I’m going to explain myself? What kind of killer would I be if I gave away all my secrets? Let’s just say… I like keeping you on your toes. It’s fun watching you try so hard.”

Beomgyu’s face was pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the phone. “You’re sick,” he muttered under his breath.

The killer ignored him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “The game’s far from over.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at the phone, your heart pounding in your chest. Beomgyu looked at you, his face etched with fear.

“What do we do now?” he asked quietly.

You took a shaky breath, your mind racing. “We keep going. We figure this out.”

Beomgyu nodded, though his hands were trembling. "And what if we can’t?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You sat hunched over the corkboard, piecing through the clues when Beomgyu cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "Hey, maybe you should go back to the janitor’s room. There might be something we missed."

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “Like what? I already grabbed the corkboard.”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his pen. “I don’t know. It just feels like… that place might have more to it. There’s no way someone went through all the effort of pinning up all this stuff and didn’t leave more behind.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” you said, pushing back from the desk. “I’ll check again. Just… stay here and keep an ear on the phones.”

Beomgyu nodded quickly, relief evident on his face. “Be careful, okay?”

You didn’t bother replying as you headed back downstairs, retracing your steps. The basement was even creepier now, the flickering light above casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. Pushing the janitor's office door open again, you stepped inside, the stale air immediately making your nose crinkle.

The mannequins were still there, standing motionless in the corner like silent sentinels. You forced yourself to ignore them, focusing instead on the cluttered room. You rummaged through drawers, boxes, and even under the dusty desk, finding nothing but old cleaning supplies and forgotten tools.

Just as you were about to give up, your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a pile of papers. You pulled it out—a key, small and rusted, with no label.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, standing up and looking around. “What do you open?”

You left the janitor’s office and started trying the key on every locked door in the hallway. It wasn’t until you reached the very last door—a heavy, steel one with a faded "Storage" sign on it—that the key finally turned.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage room filled with shelves of old files, boxes, and equipment. You stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling your nose.

Grabbing your phone for light, you began rifling through the shelves. Most of it seemed mundane—inventory lists, outdated maintenance logs, and other boring documents. But then you found a box marked “Incident Reports.”

You opened it, pulling out a stack of files. One in particular caught your eye—a report on someone named Sim Jaeyun.

You skimmed the pages, your brow furrowing as you read. According to the report, Sim Jaeyun was a young man who had been found dead in the town’s river. The official cause of death was ruled as reckless behavior, with high levels of alcohol detected in his blood.

But something didn’t add up.

You found another document tucked in the back of the file—a copy of the autopsy report, signed by none other than Dr. Lee. The details in the report were vague, almost suspiciously so. It noted the alcohol levels but didn’t mention any other significant findings.

Flipping through more of the file, you found a handwritten note from a police officer who had initially investigated the scene: “Something doesn’t feel right. Jaeyun was a good swimmer.”

Your stomach churned as you read on. The note went on to mention that Jaeyun had been arguing with someone at a local bar the night he died. The name of the person he argued with was blacked out, but whoever it was, they were never questioned.

Your mind reeled. Something about this was definitely off. Why would Dr. Lee sign off on such a suspicious autopsy? And why had no one followed up on the blacked-out name?

You gathered the files, clutching them tightly as you made your way back upstairs. Your thoughts were racing, pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to fit together.

Beomgyu looked up from his seat as you entered the booth, his eyes widening when he saw the stack of papers in your hands. “What did you find?”

You dropped the files on the desk, flipping them open. “A death report. Sim Jaeyun. Found in the river, officially ruled as reckless behavior and alcohol poisoning. But…”

“But what?” Beomgyu prompted, leaning closer.

You pointed to the autopsy report. “It doesn’t add up. Just alcohol levels that don’t make sense. And guess who signed the autopsy?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Dr. Lee?”

“Bingo,” you said grimly. “And there’s more—apparently, Jaeyun got into an argument with someone at a bar that night, but the name was blacked out in the report. Whoever it was, they were never questioned.”

Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So, what are you saying? That Jaeyun didn’t just… fall into the river drunk?”

You nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Someone’s been covering this up. And I think it ties back to everything that’s happening now.”

Beomgyu stared at the files, his face pale. “This just keeps getting worse.”

You didn’t respond, your mind already racing with what to do next.

You tapped your pen against the desk anxiously, the silence between you and Beomgyu growing heavier by the second. Finally, you broke it. “We need to talk to someone who knew Jaeyun. Someone who can tell us more about what happened that night.”

Beomgyu nodded, already pulling up the town directory on his computer. “There were names listed in some of those files,” he muttered, scrolling through the screen. “Here—Kim Jihoon. He was one of Jaeyun’s friends.”

“Call him,” you said firmly, leaning forward.

Beomgyu hesitated for a second but then grabbed the phone, dialing the number. You both waited as the line rang, the sound stretching your nerves thin.

Finally, a groggy voice answered, “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hi, this is Beomgyu from the town’s late-night talk show,” Beomgyu began cautiously. “We’re trying to get some information about Sim Jaeyun. You were listed as one of his friends. Do you have a moment to talk?”

There was a pause on the other end before Jihoon spoke again, his voice laced with confusion. “Jaeyun? Why are you asking about him? He’s been gone for years.”

You leaned toward the mic, speaking gently but urgently. “We’re trying to piece together what really happened to him, Jihoon. There are some things about his death that don’t make sense. Can you tell us what you remember from that night?”

Another long pause. Then Jihoon let out a sigh. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… sure. I’ll tell you what I can.”

You exchanged a glance with Beomgyu, who nodded for you to continue. “Okay,” you said. “Start from the beginning. What was that night like?”

“It was supposed to be a fun night,” Jihoon began, his voice tinged with sadness. “We were celebrating Jaeyun. He’d just gotten a big promotion at work, and we all went out to the bar to party. Everything was fine at first—laughing, drinking, just having a good time. But then…”

He trailed off, and you prompted him gently. “But then what?”

Jihoon sighed again. “Jaeyun got into an argument with someone. I didn’t see who it was—I was across the bar at the time, talking to someone else. But I heard voices getting louder, and when I looked over, Jaeyun was face-to-face with this guy. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it looked heated.”

Your grip on the pen tightened. “Did you see what the guy looked like at all? Anything about him?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “It was dark, and the bar was crowded. I only saw his back. But… I don’t know, there was something off about the guy. The way he was standing, the way he moved… it gave me a bad feeling.”

“What happened after that?” you asked.

“Jaeyun stormed out of the bar,” Jihoon said. “The guy followed him. I tried to go after them, but by the time I got outside, they were both gone. I looked around, called out for Jaeyun, but… nothing. It was like they’d disappeared.”

“And then?”

“The next day, I heard the news,” Jihoon said, his voice breaking slightly. “Jaeyun was found dead in the river. They said he’d been drinking and must’ve fallen in, but…”

“But you didn’t believe that,” you finished for him.

“No,” Jihoon said firmly. “Jaeyun wasn’t that kind of guy. He could hold his liquor, and he would’ve been careful. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

You sat back in your chair, your mind racing. Jaeyun had argued with someone—someone who followed him out of the bar. Someone who might have been responsible for his death.

Beomgyu’s voice cut through the static over the intercom, calm but clipped. “The other line’s ringing. I’ll take care of it.”

You nodded to yourself, still holding the phone to your ear. “Alright.”

Turning your attention back to Jihoon, you settled into your chair and tried to ground yourself.

“Jaeyun was just… he was the kind of guy everyone liked, you know? He always made time for people. Even when he was busy, he’d stop to check in. If you were upset about something, he’d notice—he always noticed.” Jihoon’s voice broke slightly, and you could hear him swallow hard.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “He sounds like a really good person. Someone who didn’t deserve what happened.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jihoon agreed softly. “He’d do these little things, you know? Like, one time, I forgot my wallet, and he just covered everything without even saying anything. He didn’t want people to feel bad, didn’t want anyone to feel like a burden. That was just Jaeyun.”

You found yourself smiling faintly, despite the grim topic. “He must’ve been an amazing friend to have.”

“He was,” Jihoon said, his voice thick with emotion. “Losing him… it wasn’t just hard. It was—” He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. “It was like losing the glue that held us all together. He was the one who brought us all into the same orbit.”

Your chest tightened as you listened, the weight of Jihoon’s words pressing down on you. Jaeyun had been more than just a name on a file or a tragic story in the town’s history. He’d been a real person, someone loved deeply by those around him.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” you said softly. “I wish I could’ve met him. He sounds like he left a mark on everyone he knew.”

“He did,” Jihoon whispered. “And that’s what makes it so hard to believe… what they said about him, that he was drunk and reckless. That’s not him. It never felt right to me, even back then.”

You nodded, the puzzle pieces in your mind continuing to shift and rearrange themselves. “I understand. And I think you’re right to trust your gut. There’s more to this story, and I’m trying to piece it together.”

Jihoon let out a shaky laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know why you care so much—"

The lights in the booth flickered and then abruptly went out, plunging you into darkness. You froze, the silence suddenly suffocating.

A second later, Beomgyu’s voice came over the intercom, slightly muffled but urgent. “Uh… the power just went out in the whole building. I think you’ll need to go down to the basement and reset the breaker. I’d do it, but I’m kinda stuck here monitoring the calls.”

You clicked your flashlight on, its narrow beam cutting through the pitch-black room. “Got it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stay up here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on everything,” Beomgyu promised, his voice a little shaky but resolute.

You stood up, your flashlight casting eerie shadows as you moved toward the booth door. The air felt colder now, heavier, as though the power outage had sucked the life out of the building.

Exiting the booth, you walked down the hall toward the staircase. Every creak of the floor beneath your feet made your stomach tighten.

The door to the basement was slightly ajar when you reached it, creaking as you pushed it open. You descended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the stillness.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and old cardboard. The beam of your flashlight bounced across the walls, revealing cluttered shelves, dusty equipment, and the same door to the janitor's room you’d searched earlier.

Something felt... wrong.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, your breath catching as the sensation of eyes on you. It was that prickling feeling, the kind that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

You swung the flashlight around again, the beam slicing through the shadows. Nothing. “Get it together,” you muttered under your breath.

Moving cautiously, you made your way to the breaker panel in the corner of the room. The metal door was slightly ajar, as though someone had been there recently. You frowned and reached out, pulling it open.

The switches were all flipped off. You began resetting them, flipping each one back to its original position. As the last switch clicked into place, you heard a faint sound behind you—a scuffling, like a shoe sliding against the concrete floor.

You froze.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

No response.

Your flashlight beam darted across the room again, settling on nothing but dusty shelves and discarded junk. The sensation of being watched was stronger than ever, the weight of unseen eyes boring into your back.

Swallowing hard, you gripped the flashlight tighter and turned back toward the stairs. “It’s just your imagination,” you told yourself. “Just nerves.”

But as you climbed the stairs, the creak of a floorboard behind you made your blood run cold. You spun around, flashlight trembling in your hand, but there was no one there.

Heart pounding, you hurried up the remaining steps and shoved the door open, stepping back into the main hall. The lights flickered back on, flooding the building with their harsh fluorescent glow.

You walked back toward the booths, your thoughts still caught on Jihoon’s words, and your pulse quickened when you noticed something strange—the door to Beomgyu’s booth was open. Beomgyu never left it open when he was working.

Curiosity and concern flared in equal measure as you stepped inside. “Beomgyu?” you called softly, but the booth was empty.

The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, but there was no sign of him. You frowned, glancing around, trying to spot anything out of place. The silence felt oppressive, thick, like the air itself was watching you.

Turning back toward the hallway, you froze.

A figure was walking toward you, their movements deliberate and slow, as if savoring every step. They were dressed in black, a pale white mask covering their face, and in their hand gleamed a knife.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Thinking fast, you slammed the door shut and locked it just as the figure lunged. The door rattled violently as they crashed into it, and you stumbled back, gasping, your chest heaving.

The sound of the knife scraping against the door sent shivers down your spine.

You turned, instinctively seeking safety, only to feel your stomach drop.

Someone was standing in your booth.

On the other side of the glass separating Beomgyu’s booth from yours, the killer stood, their white mask tilted ever so slightly as if they were studying you.

You stared in disbelief, your pulse pounding in your ears as the killer leaned casually against the glass. Slowly, they raised their knife and tapped the blade against the glass, the metallic tink tink tink reverberating in the confined space.

"Hey there," their distorted voice drawled, smug and taunting. “Miss me?”

You didn’t answer, too frozen by the weight of the moment.

They chuckled, the sound muffled but chilling. “C’mon, let’s make this interesting. Open the door for me. I just want to play.”

Your stomach churned, and you shook your head, your voice trembling but firm. “Where’s Beomgyu?”

The killer tilted their head, tapping the knife against the glass again. “Oh, he’s around,” they said, their tone lilting, as if they were enjoying a private joke.

Panic clawed at your insides. “What did you do to him?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, the mask distorting their features into a sinister blur. “Why so worried? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself?”

You clenched your fists, forcing yourself to hold their gaze despite the fear threatening to crush you. “What do you want?”

They leaned back slightly, tapping the glass once more, their knife dragging a slow, deliberate line down its surface. “For now? I just want to see how long you can last.”

The killer’s mask shifted slightly as he glanced toward your desk, his knife tapping idly against the glass again. “Well, well,” he said, his voice dripping with mock surprise. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

You glanced at the desk, realizing he was looking at the scattered clues you’d been piecing together: the newspaper clippings, the notes, the photo of Jaeyun.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your hands were trembling at your sides.

The killer tilted his head, almost amused. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been digging, haven’t you? Going through things you shouldn’t, asking questions. Connecting dots. You’re smarter than they gave you credit for.”

You clenched your fists, anger bubbling up beneath your fear. “Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharper now. “What’s the point of all this? Why terrorize the town? Why kill all these people?”

The killer let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound muffled behind his mask. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You glared at him, heart pounding. “Then explain it. Make me understand.”

The killer stood straighter, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something colder, darker. His voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “This isn’t random. This isn’t chaos for the sake of chaos. This is revenge.”

You froze. “Revenge? For what?”

“For Jaeyun,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For what happened to him. For what they did to his life.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “You’re doing all of this… because of Jaeyun?”

The killer nodded slowly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Alone. Cast aside. Written off as a reckless drunk when everyone knew that wasn’t who he was.”

You swallowed hard, the pieces clicking together in your mind. “You… you think someone in this town killed him. Don’t you?”

The killer laughed again, but this time it was bitter, full of venom. “Think? Oh, no. I don’t think. I know.”

Your pulse raced as you stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why target the town? Why not just go after the person responsible?”

The killer leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and menacing. “Because they all played a part. They turned a blind eye. They lied. They covered it up. And now? They’re going to pay.”

You shook your head, panic and disbelief swirling in your chest. “This isn’t justice. This is—this is insanity!”

“Call it whatever you want,” the killer said, stepping back slightly, his knife still glinting in his hand. “But by the time I’m done, everyone will know the truth. And Jaeyun will finally get the justice he deserves.”

You stared at him through the glass, trying to piece everything together. “What connects you to Jaeyun?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “Why are you doing this in his name? What was he to you?”

The killer chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning. “Oh, come on,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “You’ve been working so hard. And yet you haven’t figured it out?”

You frowned, frustration mounting. “Stop playing games and just tell me!”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly stopped pacing, his hand reaching up to the edge of his mask. “You want answers?” he asked, his tone laced with something dangerous. “Then pay attention.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his fingers gripped the mask. Slowly, he pulled it off, revealing the face underneath.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No,” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “That’s not possible…”

It was Jaeyun.

His face was unmistakable, though there was something different now—harsher. His features were gaunter, his eyes darker, filled with a cold fire that sent a chill down your spine.

“But—you’re dead,” you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. “They said you were dead. I saw the reports.”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Dead?” he echoed, his voice dripping with venom. “I was supposed to be. The man who killed me certainly thought I was.”

“Then how are you alive?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He stepped closer to the glass, his expression hard. “Sheer will,” he said, his tone icy. “I wasn’t supposed to survive that night. But I did. Barely. They threw me in the river, thinking they’d silenced me for good. But they didn’t count on me crawling out, broken, bleeding, but alive.”

Your stomach churned as you processed his words. “Who did this to you?”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. “The man who killed me is now the town’s mayor,” he spat, his voice thick with hatred. “That promotion was supposed to be mine. I earned it. But he couldn’t stand the idea of me taking what he thought was his. So he decided to remove the competition—permanently.”

Your breath hitched. “They covered it up,” you murmured, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Of course they did,” Jaeyun sneered. “They spun a pretty little story. Made me out to be reckless, irresponsible. A drunk who couldn’t handle himself. And everyone believed it.”

“And no one knew you were alive?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his expression cold. “Not a soul. They all thought they were free of me. That their secret was safe.” He leaned closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “But I’ve been watching. Waiting. And now, I’m back.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “You’re doing all of this… to get revenge?”

Jaeyun smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Revenge? Justice? Call it whatever you want. But this town took everything from me. My life. My future. And now, I’m going to take everything from them.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “This isn’t justice, Jaeyun. This is—this is murder.”

“They murdered me first,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “They thought they could bury me and move on. But they were wrong. And now, they’re going to pay.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. All you could do was stare at the man in front of you—the man who had risen from the dead, consumed by a need for vengeance.

Jaeyun’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his lips curving into a sly smile. He leaned against the glass, tapping his knife against it rhythmically, the sound unnerving in the silence. “Come on,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing. “Open the door. Let’s talk properly. Face to face.”

Jaeyun’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing as you stood your ground. He straightened, stepping closer to the glass, and his voice dropped into a darker, more threatening tone. “You think you're safe in there?” He tapped the knife against the glass again, this time with more force, his breath coming faster as his frustration grew. “You really think you can stop me by just hiding?”

When you didn’t respond, he slammed his fist against the glass with a deafening crack. The force rattled the walls, sending a shiver down your spine. He glared at you, his chest heaving, rage and amusement mixed in his expression. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Open the damn door.”

You stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk in front of you as if it could anchor you. “Why would I do that?” you asked, your voice sharper than you felt. “So you can kill me too? No thanks.”

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes glinted with something almost playful. “Kill you?” he said, feigning offense. “Why would I do that? You’re the only one who’s actually listened to me. The only one who’s tried to understand.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly.

He tilted his head, the knife pausing mid-tap. “You’re scared,” he observed, his voice soft, almost gentle. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not your enemy.”

“Not my enemy?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been terrorizing this town for days. You killed people, Jaeyun.”

“They deserved it,” he said flatly, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Every single one of them was complicit. They lied. They covered it up. They let him get away with it.”

“And Beomgyu?” you demanded, anger rising in your chest. “What did he ever do to you?”

Jaeyun hesitated, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Collateral damage,” he said eventually, his tone colder now. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’re right,” you said, your voice firm despite the fear twisting in your gut. “I don’t. Because what you’re doing isn’t justice—it’s just more bloodshed.”

His expression darkened, but then he sighed, as if trying to calm himself. He stepped back from the glass slightly, sheathing the knife at his side. “You’re different,” he said after a moment, his tone soft again. “You’ve got a brain. You’ve been piecing this together all night. You know I’m not lying about what happened to me. So why not help me? Why not open the door and join me?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Join you?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You said it yourself—this isn’t justice. But maybe you could help me make it right. Maybe you could keep me… grounded.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Am I?” he countered, stepping closer to the glass again. “Or am I the only one who’s willing to do what it takes? Think about it—you’ve seen what this town is like. Corrupt, rotten to its core. You’ve been digging up its secrets all night. Do you really think anyone else is going to pay for what they’ve done?”

You hesitated, his words stirring something in you. The town was corrupt. The mayor had gotten away with murder. And Jaeyun… as twisted as his methods were, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Seeing your hesitation, his smile returned, wider now. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice almost soothing. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you? This town doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They’ll betray you the first chance they get. But I won’t. You and me, we could fix this. Together.”

Your grip on the desk tightened, your knuckles white. “No,” you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. “I’m not opening that door. I’m not like you.”

Jaeyun’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “Pity,” he murmured, his tone more disappointed than angry. “You would’ve made a good ally.”

He turned his back to you, walking toward the door to your booth. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder, a dark smile curling his lips again. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you trembling in the eerie silence of the room.

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

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Gojo Satoru NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 4 :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Satoru is a mix between affectionate and exhausted. He’ll shower you in kisses and soft praises while yawning, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He’ll mumble something about cleaning up after a nap, even if you’re squirming because you’re sticky he’ll assure you that after his nap, he’ll clean you up.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Satoru loves your thighs. He honestly loves every part of you but something about your thighs just draws him in. He loves to lay on them, squeeze them, hold them, feel the straddling his face… they’re just so soft. He can’t get enough.

Satoru is pretty proud of his hands. He enjoys the way you compliment them, the way they feel slotted in your own. He loves the way they make you squirm and whine, he loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Satoru can be a bit of a pervert, he has a fascination with cum. He’s very partial to coming inside of you or at least on your sex. Something about the sight of his pearly cum covering you or leaking out of your entrance drives him absolutely insane. Satoru is also rather fascinated by his cum staining your underwear, especially after a quickie. He’ll see his own release dripping out of you and hike your underwear back up before you can clean yourself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Satoru is a panty sniffer and he tries to be sneaky about it. He’ll find your used underwear in the hamper and use them to get off, sniffing them while tugging his cock or using them to aid jerking off. What he doesn’t realize is you purposely leave your underwear around for him to “find”.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Satoru has a good amount of experience, enough to know what he is doing. But he can also argue that his consumption of porn videos and raunchy hentai aided his abilities. He’s a hands-on learner so it’s not surprising that he got a hang of things pretty quick.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Satoru enjoys just about anything but he likes positions where he can be really – and I mean almost suffocatingly – close to you. Mating press, missionary, spooning, cock-warming, etc. Anything where he can fucking squeeze you and keep you from getting away.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Satoru is fairly serious but that doesn’t mean he won’t make sly comments or even joke with you a bit. He adjusts his own “humor” to what you like. He wants you to be comfortable so if you seem to relax more when he jokes around and talks to you a lot while fucking, he’ll do it. But he’s also capable of keeping the talking to a minimum, letting his body do the work while praising you endlessly. Though if one of you fumbles around a bit, he will not hesitate to chuckle. He thinks its really cute so don’t take offense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Satoru’s hair down there matches the hair on his head, he rather likes that so it’s very rare that he’ll shave or wax it bald. Though, again, if you request him to, he’ll do it. Satoru maintains himself very well, cleaning himself every day and trimming every 1-2 weeks.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Satoru can be disgustingly romantic when fucking you, especially when he’d close to coming. He tends to blabber a bit, telling you how perfect you are, how much he adores you and needs you, that he loves you. He means every word of it too. He’s always down for less serious, playful sex, but he’ll still make sure to let you know how much you mean to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

1-3 times a week depending on his schedule and how long he’s away from you. He’s not shy about it, taking time out of his busy day to get off when he absolutely needs to. He claims it clears his head, sometimes he really can’t focus if he’s too worked up.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satoru really enjoys praising (both giving and receiving). Truthfully, he’s really into bondage and shibari but he can get shy about it. He just likes the idea of restraining and being restrained. He supposes it can count as a kink, but he really likes fucking you while you wear his blindfold or eye wraps. He finds it hot, especially since you can’t see what's coming next.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Satoru knows himself and his body well enough to know he will knock out after sex 9/10 times. His favorite places to fuck you are all within your own home… and within range of your bed. He loves to fuck you on a bed of course, but he also enjoys just about any surface of your home. He even made it a little game once you moved in together, keeping mental notes of what rooms he had fucked you in and what rooms he still needed to.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He feels a bit basic for this, but cute clothing and cute lingerie really does it for him. He enjoys when you dress up, maybe wear something sexier, but he’s very drawn to the pastels and laces on the various lingerie you like to buy. Sometimes it’s just as easy as batting your eyelashes for him and Satoru will find his cock twitching to life.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NEVER force you to do anything, but he is also willing to try just about anything you desire. Satoru draws the line at slapping and intentionally hurting. Even if you beg him to hit you, the most he’ll offer is a spank on your ass or chest but he’ll never slap your face.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Satoru is addicted to you going down on him. This man lives for blow jobs and he is not ashamed to admit that. He also adores going down on you, considering himself very skilled in that aspect. But fuck does he love it when you suck him off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood and your preferences. Satoru will tailor your sex excursions to fit your needs perfectly while still taking himself into consideration. Naturally, Satoru falls into the rough category with his hips moving quicker than he can handle sometimes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Satoru is down for a quickie so long as you promise him caffeine or sweets after. I’m serious when I say this man will pass the fuck out after he blows his load. He prefers taking his time, not having to worry about being late for an event or being walked in on. Though he never really cared in the first place, people can wait on him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Satoru will try anything at least once. He’s not shy with experimenting and isn’t afraid of risks. He understands that bodily functions can and will occur while trying different things (such as anal or pegging for example) and he understands things can… go down. But he’s fine with that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Penetration wise, Satoru is a one and done kind of guy but he can push two or three if he’s really worked up (both hormone wise and adrenaline wise). When inside of you, Satoru can last between 5-8 minutes. But he makes sure to get you off as many times as you desire before getting himself off and calling it a night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Satoru has no shame in using toys, both on himself and on you. He thinks they’re fun, and he finds no competition with them. Rather he uses them to enhance the experience instead of letting it do all the work. He’s very partial to the “magic wand” vibrator he bought for the two of you to use. Going as far as to buy a backup for when the original stops working.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satoru can and will tease you until you are sobbing but he makes up for it by making you come as many times as you can handle. He’ll never leave you hanging, even as a punishment. He’d rather overstimulate you than leave you with nothing because he knows how frustrating that can feel… and he just wouldn’t feel right about it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man does nothing to keep his voice down or his volume to a minimum. He is moaning, cursing, whining, whimpering, begging, he has no shame in any of the noises he makes for you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Satoru has toyed with the idea of a threesome but would give you full reigns on who the addition would be. He doesn’t mind if it’s a man or a woman, he’s not picky. But the more he toys with the idea the more he realizes how possessive he is over you and can’t bring himself to approach the topic with you. He’s not self conscious, he just… he thinks nobody can satisfy you like he does so why waste their time for a mediocre experience.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When soft he’s about 5 ½ inches (14cm). When it's hard, he’s just shy of 7 inches (around 18cm). He’s girthy, enough to need preparation before entering you but nothing too painful. He’s pretty straight, a slight curve to the right but it’s not very noticeable. He’s pale, a flushed pink tip with veins running along his shaft. He’s very pleased with his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high but he can control it well. Satoru can get a bit cranky if he doesn’t have sex at the very least four times a week. Even then he considers that to be too little. But with a busy schedule he’s not always home so it can’t always work out in his favor.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Literally within thirty seconds. He’ll keep himself up for as long as it takes to get you comfortable and settled in his arms and even then he’s out within two minutes.

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru imagines #satoru imagine #satoru x reader

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solaceseven · 17 days ago

Text

Ashes of Tomorrow Pt. 2

↳ summary: in a world overrun by the infected, survival is brutal and trust is rare. when a lone survivor joins sukuna’s guarded group, tensions flare, and bonds form in the shadow of constant danger.

→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna x fem!reader

→ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

→ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: graphic injuries, violent confrontations, emotional trauma, loss of loved ones, mature themes, and anything you would expect in an apocalypse au. unprotected sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk.

→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20k+

→ a/n: here is part two! i hope everyone enjoys it. this was my first time writing smut, so I really hope it turned out well. part one.

The stars shimmered faintly above as you lay beside Sukuna, your body finally starting to relax in the rare moment of peace. His warmth was a subtle presence beside you, grounding and oddly comforting. The faint hum of his breathing, steady and unchanging, added to the sense of safety you hadn’t felt in months.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. The exhaustion crept up on you, your eyelids growing heavy as the stillness lulled you into quiet surrender. The last thing you remembered was Sukuna’s voice, low and steady, murmuring something you couldn’t quite make out as sleep overtook you.

When you stirred again, it was the sensation of movement that pulled you from your light slumber. You blinked groggily, your mind hazy, and realized you were no longer on the roof. The world tilted slightly, your body cradled in strong arms. Each step was deliberate and measured, steady in a way that made you feel oddly secure.

You glanced upward, your head lolling against a broad chest, and caught sight of Sukuna’s face. His expression was softer than you’d ever seen it, his brows drawn together in quiet concentration as he navigated the stairs.

“I can walk,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

“Sure you can,” he said, his tone dry but without its usual sharpness. “You were about to roll off the roof. You’re lucky I was paying attention.”

Your brows furrowed faintly, though the effort was weak, and you pressed a hand against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to push away. He didn’t budge, his hold steady and resolute. “I wasn’t gonna fall.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, his gaze fixed ahead. But there was no venom in his words, only a quiet exasperation that made your cheeks warm.

You let your hand fall, your head resting back against him as you surrendered to the warmth of his hold. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you can actually sleep,” he replied curtly.

The words barely registered as your mind drifted in and out of awareness, but when the cool air of the hallway gave way to the relative warmth of a room, a sliver of confusion stirred in you. This wasn’t where you usually slept.

Sukuna nudged the door open with his shoulder, stepping inside and making his way to the bed in the corner. He eased you down onto the mattress with surprising care, adjusting the blanket over your body before stepping back.

“This isn’t my bed,” you mumbled, your voice sluggish with sleep.

“No, it’s not,” he said, his tone even. “But it’s closer, and you need rest more than anyone else in this place right now.”

You blinked up at him, the dim lighting softening the hard lines of his face. In the quiet, with no one else around, he looked almost gentle. The thought made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“I’ll figure it out,” he replied, brushing you off with a slight shrug.

As your eyelids grew heavy again, the faint sound of him moving around the room reached your ears. A rustling noise followed, the unmistakable sound of a blanket being spread out across the floor. You didn’t have the energy to open your eyes, but the realization settled over you like a comforting weight—he wasn’t leaving.

Before sleep fully claimed you, you heard his voice, low and gruff. “Go to sleep, idiot. You’re safe.”

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second blanket. Whatever walls Sukuna kept between himself and the world, tonight they felt just a little thinner. And as you drifted off, you knew he’d be there, watching over you, just as he always seemed to.

You woke up to a strange warmth. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you took in your surroundings—a dimly lit room that bore the wear of the apocalypse. A beat-up dresser sat against the wall, its surface scratched and scarred with age, though it held a few weathered photo frames propped carefully on top. A single chair rested near the window, its wood chipped and worn. Weapons leaned haphazardly against the far corner, their cold, sharp presence a stark reminder of the world outside. The space was utilitarian, but not uninviting, carrying a sense of quiet resilience rather than comfort.

This wasn’t your room.

It hit you like a jolt: the steady hum of Sukuna’s presence. You recognized his scent now—subtle, sharp, like fresh ink and a faint trace of smoke. Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up, the blanket pooling around your waist.

Why am I here?

The faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the closed door. You froze, then quickly glanced around. Sukuna wasn’t here, at least not right now, and curiosity got the better of you.

Carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, mindful not to make a sound. The room was sparse but hinted at a life long before the apocalypse had stripped everything away. Your gaze landed on the dresser, where a small cluster of photographs sat in worn frames.

You stepped closer, your fingers hovering just over the edges of the first picture: Sukuna standing with his arm slung around a younger boy who had the same sharp features and piercing eyes. His brother, you realized. They both looked so happy, the kind of carefree joy you only see in pictures from the past.

Next to it was another photo, this one of Sukuna standing proudly in front of a sleek tattoo shop, a broad grin on his face. The sign above the door read “Ryomen Ink” in bold, clean letters. You could almost picture him there, surrounded by the hum of machines and the scent of ink, thriving in a world that no longer existed.

Then there was the photo of the group—Shoko, Geto, Nanami, Gojo, and Sukuna himself. They were younger, all crammed together on a couch, beers in hand and grins on their faces. Gojo had his signature sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose, and Shoko’s cigarette was caught mid-air as she leaned into the camera. Even Nanami, usually so serious, had a faint smile tugging at his lips. Geto was leaning casually against Sukuna, his arm slung around his shoulder as he flashed a wide, genuine smile. Sukuna, seated in the middle of the group, was smiling too—not his usual smirk, but an open, rare smile that softened his sharp features.

Your chest tightened at the sight. They’d been happy, a family forged in friendship. And now, in this broken world, they were all each other had left.

“What are you doing?”

The deep voice startled you, and you whipped around to see Sukuna leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his crimson eyes sharp yet unreadable.

“I—” you stammered, heat flooding your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I just... woke up and...”

His gaze flicked briefly to the photos before returning to you. For a moment, his expression softened—just a fraction, but enough to ease your tension.

“You’re in my room,” he said simply, pushing off the frame and stepping toward you.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“You fell asleep on the roof,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there. It was easier to bring you here than wake everyone up shuffling you back to your room.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks warmed at the thought of him carrying you, but you quickly turned back to the photos to distract yourself. “These... they’re nice. From before everything, right?”

He stopped beside you, his gaze lingering on the images. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and you worried you’d overstepped. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “From before.”

Your fingers hovered near the photo of him and his brother. “This is your brother?”

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yuji.”

“He looks like you,” you said softly.

“He’s better than me,” Sukuna muttered, almost under his breath.

You didn’t push him for more, sensing the weight of the subject. Instead, your eyes shifted to the group photo. “And this? You all look… happy.”

“We were,” he said simply, his voice distant. “Before everything went to hell.”

You wanted to offer something comforting, but no words felt right. Instead, you reached out to lightly trace the edge of the photo. “It’s nice that you still have these.”

“They’re all I’ve got left,” he admitted, his tone quieter than you’d ever heard it.

His vulnerability made your chest ache. Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze meeting his. “Thank you for bringing me here. And... for letting me see this.”

For a moment, his crimson eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. Then, to your surprise, he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, warm against your skin, before he pulled away.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze from him. In that moment, the distance between you didn’t seem so impossible. And maybe, just maybe, the walls Sukuna had built around himself were beginning to crack.

You focused on your breakfast, humming softly to yourself in the quiet kitchen. The morning was peaceful—exactly what you needed after the whirlwind of last night.

That peace, of course, didn’t last long.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” Gojo’s sing-song voice broke through the calm as he strolled into the kitchen, his signature grin plastered across his face.

You glanced at him warily. “Good morning, Gojo.”

He plopped down into a chair, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. "So,” he began, his tone as smug as ever, “sleep well?”

Your brows furrowed at the question. “Yeah… why?”

"Oh, nothing,” Gojo said, dragging the words out as his grin grew wider. “Just heard you spent the night in Sukuna’s room.”

Your fork froze mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“Sukuna’s room,” Gojo repeated slowly, his tone dripping with false innocence. “Care to explain? Or should I just assume the obvious?”

Heat rushed to your face. “It’s not what you think!” you blurted, the words tumbling over each other. “I fell asleep on the roof, and he—he carried me so I wouldn’t wake everyone up.”

“How chivalrous,” Gojo mused, tapping his chin dramatically. “And yet, out of all the rooms, he chose his own.”

"It wasn’t like that,” you insisted, stabbing at your fruit with more force than necessary.

“Right,” Gojo said, dragging the word out. “Next thing you know, he’ll be making you breakfast.”

Before you could retort, the back door creaked open. Shoko and Suguru stumbled in, their bags slung haphazardly over their shoulders. Shoko dropped hers onto the counter with a tired sigh, and you immediately noticed the smear of red on her leg.

"Shoko, your leg!” you exclaimed, bolting to your feet as your chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Shoko waved you off, already digging through her bag for a cigarette. “It’s just a cut,” she muttered, plopping onto a nearby chair. “Barely even hurts.”

Suguru, setting his bag down more carefully, gave her an exasperated look. “It’s a cut because you tripped. Who trips during a supply run?”

“I tripped because someone didn’t cover me properly,” Shoko shot back, her tone sharp but amused.

“I didn’t cover you properly because you ran in before I was ready!” Suguru argued, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Shoko rolled her eyes, lighting her cigarette with a dramatic sigh. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Oh, I’ll give you excuses,” Suguru retorted, stepping closer as if preparing for a mock confrontation.

“Alright, break it up, you two,” Gojo interjected, standing abruptly. “Clearly, this is a job for the great peacemaker.”

Before anyone could react, Gojo swooped in, wrapping an arm around Shoko’s neck and pulling her into a playful headlock. “Apologize to Suguru, Shoko!” he demanded with mock seriousness, ruffling her hair with his free hand.

"Get off me, you idiot!” Shoko yelled, trying to shove him away. Her cigarette was miraculously still intact, though her glare could’ve set the kitchen on fire.

Suguru, seizing the opportunity, pointed at her and stuck his tongue out like a child. “Serves you right!”

“Real mature, Suguru,” Shoko snapped, elbowing Gojo in the ribs and finally breaking free.

The whole scene was absurd—Gojo laughing like a maniac, Suguru acting like a smug little brother, and Shoko muttering curses under her breath as she fixed her hair. But it was their chaos, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with them, warmth blooming in your chest.

Your laughter trailed off as Sukuna’s quiet footsteps echoed in the doorway. He stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room briefly before landing on you. Without a word, he placed a mug of tea on the table beside you, his movements deliberate. He lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours before he turned on his heel and left without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway.

The room fell silent for half a beat.

Then—

“See!” Gojo exclaimed, pointing wildly at the mug. “Tea! A declaration of love if I’ve ever seen one!”

Shoko snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe he’s just trying to keep her from snapping under your endless teasing.”

“Or maybe,” Suguru added with a sly grin, “he just likes her.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face with both hands as heat surged to your cheeks.

Their playful banter continued, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of laughter and teasing. But as you stared at the tea in front of you, a quiet smile crept onto your face.

These moments—messy, loud, and full of life—were the reason you fought so hard to survive.

The next morning sunlight filtered through the cracked windows as you made your way to the common area, your footsteps light against the worn floor. You could already hear the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils against plates. It felt almost normal—a fleeting echo of a life long past.

As you entered, you were greeted with the sight of everyone gathered around the table, eating breakfast. Shoko glanced up from her plate and, to your utter confusion, broke into a wide grin.

“Happy birthday to you…” she began, her voice light and teasing.

You froze mid-step, your heart stuttering.

“Wait, what?” Gojo perked up instantly, his sharp blue eyes wide with excitement. “It’s your birthday?”

Before you could even form a reply, Gojo shot out of his chair, his lanky frame moving across the room with surprising speed. He grabbed you by the arms and lifted you clean off the ground, spinning you around like you were the star of some grand celebration.

“Happy birthday!!!” he hollered, his voice far too loud for this early in the morning.

“Gojo, put me down!” you protested, laughing despite yourself as your feet dangled in the air.

“Not until you accept that it’s your special day!” he declared, finally setting you back down but keeping his hands on your shoulders like an overenthusiastic parent.

The others had stopped eating by now, their attention drawn to the commotion. Suguru looked mildly amused, Shoko grinned like she’d been waiting for this, and even Nanami had a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

And then there was Sukuna. His expression was unreadable, his crimson eyes flicking between you and Gojo. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, sharp and fleeting—was that annoyance? Jealousy? No, you told yourself, you were imagining it.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gojo asked, his tone exaggeratedly scandalized.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling shy under all the attention. “It’s not that important. I didn’t think anyone would remember.”

Shoko scoffed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Of course I remembered. What kind of friend do you think I am?”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Thanks, Shoko. That means a lot.”

But Gojo wasn’t done yet. He released you and started rummaging through the shelves, muttering to himself.

“What are you doing now?” Nanami asked, his tone weary but amused.

“This!” Gojo crowed triumphantly, holding up a dusty box of cake mix like it was a prize. “I knew this would come in handy one day!”

“Gojo, we don’t have electricity,” Suguru pointed out, though there was a clear hint of humor in his voice. “How exactly do you plan on baking that?”

“Details,” Gojo said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’ll figure it out. It’s her birthday! We can’t just do nothing!”

The room filled with soft laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening with gratitude. For the first time in what felt like ages, the weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter—something warm and human.

Suguru offered you a small, genuine smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” Nanami echoed, his tone calm but sincere.

Then Sukuna’s voice cut through, low and uncharacteristically soft. “Happy birthday.”

Your gaze snapped to him in surprise, but he didn’t meet your eyes, focusing instead on his half-empty mug. Still, your heart fluttered at the simple words.

“Thanks, everyone,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “Really. This means so much.”

Gojo threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re stuck with us now, birthday girl! And don’t think for a second we’re letting this day go to waste.”

You laughed, light and unguarded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly celebrated.

The day had been a whirlwind of warmth and joy—the kind you didn’t think was possible anymore. The laughter, the makeshift cake, the group’s relentless effort to make you feel celebrated—it had all left your heart full. Now, as the night deepened and the others settled in for the evening, you found yourself savoring the peace that had settled over the group. You were curled up in your bed, flipping through the pages of a worn book you’d scavenged a few weeks ago, the faint scent of aged paper comforting in its familiarity.

A knock at the door broke your focus, startling you slightly. Setting the book aside, you got up and opened the door to find Sukuna standing there, his tall frame casting a shadow over the dimly lit hallway.

“Sukuna?” you asked, blinking at him. “What’s going on?”

“Put on your jacket and follow me,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your chest. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his crimson eyes steady as they held yours.

Unable to resist the pull of intrigue, you grabbed your coat and boots, slipping them on quickly before stepping into the cool night. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of pine lingered as Sukuna led you through the woods. His pace was steady, his silence leaving you to wonder what he had planned.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, glancing at him.

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

After a few minutes, the trees gave way to a small clearing, and your eyes widened at the sight before you. A weathered cabin stood nestled in the clearing, its silhouette softened by the pale glow of the moon. But it wasn’t the cabin that caught your attention—it was the object on the porch.

“Is that a telescope?” you asked, your voice laced with surprise.

Sukuna’s gaze flicked to the telescope before returning to you. “Yeah. You told me your dad taught you all the constellations. Thought you might want to see them again. That’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the weight of his thoughtfulness pressing gently against your heart. “Sukuna…” you murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“Go on,” he said, nodding toward the telescope. His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of softness beneath the surface.

You stepped onto the porch, leaning down to peer through the lens. The stars burst into view—vivid and breathtaking, more vibrant than you’d ever seen them on the roof. Each constellation was a reminder of nights spent with your dad, his voice patiently teaching you their names. It was as if Sukuna had brought a piece of him back to you, and the thought made your throat tighten.

“It’s incredible,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “I can see them so clearly—better than on the roof.”

He shifted, his arms crossing over his chest as his gaze lingered on you. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

“Come look,” you urged, stepping aside.

Sukuna hesitated, his gaze shifting to the telescope. “I don’t need to—”

“Come on,” you urged with a small smile. “You might actually enjoy it."

For a moment, he hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure about the idea. But he finally moved, his large frame bending down to peer through the telescope. The moonlight illuminated his sharp features, softening them, and you found yourself staring at him instead of the stars.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone low.

You smiled, something tender stirring inside you. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could think too much about it, you stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The warmth of his skin against your lips made your heart race, and as you pulled back, realization struck.

“Oh—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face flushing. “I didn’t mean to— I just—”

Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, and before you could finish your sentence, he leaned down. His lips brushed against yours softly at first, hesitant. The tenderness of it took your breath away, and when he felt you respond, his hand moved to cradle your face, his kiss deepening.

The world fell away. There was no cold, no fear, no apocalypse—only Sukuna. His kiss was unhurried and warm, filled with something unspoken that made your chest ache in the best way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin lightly.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, his voice quiet but full of meaning.

Your throat felt tight, and all you could do was smile up at him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sukuna’s eyes softened and he kissed you again. This time, there was no hesitation. His lips moved with more certainty, pulling you deeper into the moment. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding you close as his other hand found your waist, grounding you in his warmth.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him as if letting go would shatter the fragile bubble of intimacy surrounding you both. His kiss was fervent, pouring in all the things he could never say out loud. Each press of his lips felt like a promise, a desperate vow in a world where so little was certain.

When the kiss finally broke, Sukuna’s breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. His forehead touched yours again, but this time his hands remained on you—one at your waist, the other brushing your hair aside with a tenderness that contradicted his usual demeanor.

“Come inside,” Sukuna murmured, his gaze searching yours, seeking permission.

You nodded, your voice caught somewhere between your heart and throat.

You stepped into the cabin first, your boots creaking against the worn wooden floor. The air was thick with the faint smell of dust and age, but it was warmer than the chill outside. Sukuna followed silently, striking a match as he made his way to the chimney. With practiced ease, he lit a few candles their flames flickering to life. The golden glow chased away the shadows, illuminating the small space.

The cabin was simple but comforting. Its wooden walls creaking faintly under the pressure of the wind outside, a constant reminder of the fragile barrier between you and the chaos beyond. In one corner of the room, a worn mattress lay on the floor, draped with an old, patched blanket. It wasn’t luxurious—far from it—but it was a sanctuary in a world that offered none. The soft candlelight danced across the walls, painting the room in warm hues and casting fleeting shadows over Sukuna’s sharp features.

He turned to the door, closing it with a soft click. The sound broke the stillness, pulling your attention back to him. His steps were measured as he approached you, the tension in his shoulders contrasting with the gentleness in his gaze.

His hands found your waist, calloused fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. He paused for a moment, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you sure?” His voice was low, almost hesitant, as though the words carried more weight than he was willing to show.

Your breath hitched, the warmth of the room doing little to calm the fluttering in your chest. You met his gaze, steady and sure, even as your pulse raced. “Yes.” Your hands slid up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

That was all he needed.

Sukuna’s mouth captured yours again, this time slower, savoring each kiss like it was the last. His hands explored with unhurried reverence, tracing the curve of your waist and the small of your back. You matched him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

Guided by instinct as much as by need, he walked you backward toward the small bed tucked into the corner of the room. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, he caught you, lowering you carefully as though you were made of something fragile.

The world outside melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the heat of his breath against your skin. His kisses trailed lower, brushing over your jaw, your neck, and the delicate line of your collarbone. Each touch sent a wave of heat coursing through you, your body arching instinctively toward him. His hands, warm and rough from years of hardship, slipped under your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers igniting a trail of fire as they moved.

“You’re beautiful,” Sukuna murmured against your skin, the words almost reverent, like a truth he could no longer keep to himself.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but before you could reply, he eased your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over yourself, a mix of shyness and vulnerability washing over you.

Sukuna’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hands warm as they gently wrapped around your wrists. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Slowly, he guided your arms away, holding them at your sides as his crimson eyes met yours. The tenderness in his expression made your chest tighten, and the way his thumbs brushed against your skin was grounding.

“Not ever,” he said softly, his voice rough but filled with something unspoken.

Something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, unraveled you completely. You reached for him, tugging at his shirt, and he let you pull it off, the flickering candlelight illuminating the scars that marred his chest and arms.

"You’re beautiful too," you said softly, and the way his breath hitched made you wonder if anyone had ever told him that before.

His lips claimed yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his body pressing you gently into the mattress. Every touch, every shift of his weight against you, was measured and deliberate. His hands explored your curves with care, learning the rhythm of your breath, the places that made you shiver under his touch.

The kisses trailed downward. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of skin he uncovered, his lips and tongue leaving a heated trail down to your stomach. When he reached the waistband of your pants, he paused, his crimson eyes lifting to meet yours, silently seeking permission.

Your soft nod was all it took. His hands gripped the fabric, his calloused fingers brushing against your hips as he tugged your pants and boots off in one smooth motion, discarding them carelessly to the side. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, raw desire flickering in his eyes as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting them gently.

The first flick of his tongue against your folds sent a shockwave through your body. You gasped, your back arching off the mattress as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Sukuna didn’t hesitate, his tongue diving in, messy and relentless as he devoured you like a man starved.

“Fuck, Sukuna,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his tongue moved in long, deliberate strokes, teasing and tormenting. The heat of his mouth against you was intoxicating, and the way his nose pressed into you as he worked only heightened the intensity.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your core. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, swirling before dragging back up to circle your clit. His movements were deliberate yet feverish, the kind of messy control only Sukuna could manage, his brows furrowing in concentration as he ate you out like it was his favorite meal.

He pulled back just enough to gasp for air, his lips glistening and his voice thick with lust as he murmured, “You taste so fucking good. I love it. Love you like this.”

Before you could respond, his lips latched onto your clit, sucking with a sinful intensity that made your hips jerk against his face. He didn’t stop, didn’t relent, one hand gripping your thigh to hold you in place while the other slid up to your stomach, grounding you as his mouth drove you higher and higher.

The wet sounds of his tongue and the low, guttural hums in his throat filled the room, combining with your broken gasps and whimpers. Your thighs trembled under his hands, and the heat coiling in your stomach tightened to a breaking point.

“Sukuna—” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. He growled in response, the vibration pushing you over the edge, your climax crashing through you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for air.

He didn’t stop immediately, his tongue lapping at you lazily, as though savoring every last drop. When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his eyes blazing as he looked up at you. His smirk was wolfish, his face slick with evidence of what he’d just done.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, crawling back up to meet your lips. The kiss was heated and consuming, the taste of yourself on his tongue only adding to the intoxicating haze. His body pressed against yours again, his weight solid and grounding, his hands bracketing your head as his lips trailed along your jaw.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice low, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yes,” you managed to whisper, your hands sliding up his back, nails grazing his skin in a way that made his muscles tense under your touch.

“Good,” he growled, his lips crashing into yours, demanding and unrelenting. The kiss was intoxicating—hot, messy, and all-consuming. His tongue slid against yours, tasting, teasing, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When he finally pulled back, his lips lingered for a heartbeat, swollen and glistening as he licked them, savoring the taste of you. His eyes, heavy-lidded and blazing with desire, locked onto yours, and you felt the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.

Without breaking eye contact, his hands moved to his waistband, fumbling in his haste. A soft shuffle followed, and then his cock was free—thick, flushed, and heavy in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, sliding it through your slick folds, teasing you, and drawing a gasp from your lips as your eyes flickered down to take in the sight for the first time.

Your breath hitched as he lined himself up, his hooded gaze locking on yours. His brows furrowed in concentration as he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching you open inch by inch.

A sharp, keening moan slipped from your lips as he pushed deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders to ground yourself. The burn was intoxicating, stealing the air from your lungs as he filled you, your jaw falling slack and your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groaned, voice trembling as he bottomed out. “You’re so warm—fuck, baby—”

You trembled beneath him, walls fluttering around his cock as he started to move. He pulled out slowly, almost entirely, before sinking back in with a deliberate, measured thrust. “So big, Sukuna,” you whimpered, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders for dear life. “F-fuck.”

Your pussy clenched tighter around him, drawing a guttural groan from his lips. Words escaped you, lost to the symphony of moans and broken cries spilling from your mouth. Each thrust was perfectly aimed, his pace unrelenting, hitting that spot inside that had your vision blurring. The rhythmic slam of the headboard against the wall barely registered in your mind—your body too consumed by pleasure to care.

A large hand pressed firmly against your belly, and Sukuna’s lips curled into a dark smirk. “Feel that?” he growled, his palm adding pressure just above your pelvis. “Feel me? Fucking you so deep I’m right here?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself. “Oh my god, yes—yes”

He leaned down, his warm breath ghosting over your chest before his lips closed around your nipple as he sucked, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. The sensation shot through you like lightning, a sharp cry escaping your lips before you could stop it. “So loud,” he muttered, his voice laced with teasing, though the smug curl of his lips made it clear he was reveling in every sound you made.

Before you could respond—if you even could—his fingers trailed from your hip to your swollen, throbbing clit. He worked slow, wet circles over the sensitive nub, his movements almost too much as pleasure threatened to consume you whole.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his voice rough and broken when he felt the trembling clench of your walls, that telltale sign of your impending climax. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum all over my cock.”

“Yes!” you screamed, your body seizing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your cries were loud and unrestrained, your nails raking down his back as you came hard, your walls gripping his cock in a vice-like hold. “Oh—fuck, Sukuna!”

He didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace grew more erratic, his deep thrusts hitting even harder as he chased his own release. “Gonna fill you up,” he choked, his voice hoarse, a growl underlying his words. “Fuck, baby—gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimpered, the word tumbling from your lips in a desperate mantra. “Want it—want all of it—please, baby—”

His hips snapped forward one last time, slamming into you as he let out a deep, guttural groan. “Cummin’, baby,” he choked, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, hot and thick, filling you to the brim.

But he didn’t stop. His fingers kept working your clit, insistent and unrelenting as he rocked his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, milking every last drop. “Come on, angel,” he murmured, his voice soft but pleading. “One more. Give me one more, baby—please.”

You were trembling, body convulsing as his words pushed you over the edge again. Your walls clenched tight, pulling yet another groan from his lips. He watched, mesmerized, as your body arched beneath him, surrendering to the waves of your second orgasm.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his voice low and wrecked. “So fucking perfect, baby.”

Your chest heaved as you came down, every nerve in your body buzzing with overstimulation. Sukuna’s hips stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. He lifted his fingers from your clit, panting heavily, and without a second thought, brought it to his lips, sucking your slick clean with a satisfied hum.

His crimson eyes scanned your face, drinking in every detail—your flushed cheeks, the unfocused glaze in your eyes, the way your lips quivered as you fought to steady your breathing. A low chuckle escaped him, deep and smug. “You look ruined,” he said, his thumb grazing over your swollen bottom lip. “Exactly how I like you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your body too blissed-out to argue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, voice hoarse yet warm with affection.

He smirked, leaning in to steal a soft kiss, his lips lingering against yours. “And you’re mine,” he countered, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable.

The room settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. Sukuna carefully eased out of you, his movements uncharacteristically tender. Grabbing a discarded shirt, he cleaned you up with surprising care, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache.

When he was finished, he pulled you against him effortlessly. His strong arms wrapped around your trembling body, your back pressed firmly to his chest.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Get some rest.” he murmured, his tone laced with both command and care.

His embrace was steady and warm, and the rhythmic beat of his heart against your back became your anchor. Your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep, safe in his arms.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the cabin’s wooden walls, bathing the room in a hazy, golden warmth. The scent of aged wood and the faint trace of Sukuna’s presence surrounded you, grounding you even before your eyes fluttered open.

It took a moment for the memories of the night before to surface, but when they did, your cheeks burned, and a soft, dreamy smile tugged at your lips. You shifted slightly, feeling the comforting weight of Sukuna’s arm draped over your waist. His chest was warm against your back, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his deep, even breaths betraying that he was still lost in sleep. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the quiet intimacy of it, the kind of peace you hadn’t felt in so long it almost felt foreign.

Turning your head slightly, you let your gaze fall on him. The sight nearly stole the breath from your lungs.

Sukuna looked so different like this—softened by sleep, his sharp edges dulled by the golden light. His usually intense features were relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and his hair was delightfully tousled. He seemed younger somehow, untouched by the weight of the world you both carried.

A quiet laugh almost escaped you at the thought of how different this Sukuna was from the one who commanded the room with sharp words and piercing glares. This version of him felt like a secret, a piece of himself he rarely shared. And right now, it was yours.

As if sensing your gaze, his brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep. Crimson irises, softer than usual, locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice husky and rough from sleep, but impossibly gentle.

“Morning,” you whispered back, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze.

His eyes stayed on yours, searching, as if trying to read your every thought. The space between you felt fragile, electric, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could feel it too. He didn’t move his arm from around you, and you couldn’t decide if it was because he hadn’t realized or because he didn’t want to.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness of the moment.

You nodded, your voice coming out softer than you intended. “Yeah. You?”

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before his lips curved into a faint, almost boyish smile. “Better than I have in years.”

The quiet confession made your chest tighten, warmth spreading through you like sunlight. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, the quiet between you stretched, filled with the unspoken, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with possibility.

Finally, Sukuna shifted, his arm reluctantly sliding away as he sat up. The bed creaked softly under his weight, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture somehow both casual and intimate. The morning light danced across the ink curling over his skin, highlighting every intricate design. It was impossible not to stare, your heart stumbling in your chest at how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

He reached for his pants first, pulling them on with a fluid motion. The sight of him—bare and unapologetic in the soft glow of morning light—sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly looked away, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried not to think about how much you had seen the night before.

From the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest smirk tugging at Sukuna’s lips as he reached for his shirt. “What’s this?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Shy all of a sudden?”

Your face burned even hotter, and you mumbled, “It’s different in the morning.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound rich and unhurried as he tugged his shirt over his head. Fully dressed now, he sat back on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, though the weight of his gaze lingered on you.

His crimson eyes softened as he watched you, catching you mid-thought. “You hungry?” he asked, his tone casual, though the softness in his eyes told you he hadn’t forgotten the night before.

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Stay here,” he said, standing again and stretching. His movements were deliberate but unhurried, and the way the light caught on the ink curling over his skin, even beneath his clothes, made your pulse quicken all over again.

Without another word, Sukuna headed toward the small kitchen area of the cabin. The sound of his quiet footsteps faded, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around you as you stared after him. The memories of his touch, his kisses, his whispered promises from the night before flooded back, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your face.

Finally, with a deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began gathering your clothes. The chill in the air made your skin prickle as you dressed, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. Each piece of clothing you slipped on felt like another layer of armor against the reality waiting outside, yet it also reminded you of the vulnerability you’d shared.

Once dressed, you hesitated before lying back down on the bed. The blanket still carried the warmth from where you had slept, and the comfort of being cocooned within it felt too good to abandon just yet. You leaned back against the headboard, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders as your gaze drifted toward the small window, where sunlight filtered in faint streaks.

Sukuna moved around the small cabin, rummaging through drawers and shelves in search of something edible. The soft creak of wood and the occasional sound of shifting items filled the quiet air as you watched him, the blanket still wrapped snugly around your shoulders.

When he finally returned, he handed you a small plate with what looked like dried fruits and crackers he must’ve found. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

“It’s not much, but it’ll hold you over,” he said, his tone casual but his actions deliberate.

You took the plate, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

He shrugged, glancing away, though his eyes flickered back to you briefly. “Don’t mention it.”

You looked down at the plate, then back at him. A thought crossed your mind, and without saying a word, you picked up one of the crackers and held it out to him, your gaze steady.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in faint amusement. “What?” he asked, though his voice was softer than usual.

“You should eat too,” you said simply, offering the piece of food again.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his crimson eyes locking with yours. Then, with a small shake of his head, he pushed your hand back toward you gently. “I’m fine,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You have it.”

Instead of backing down, you leaned forward and brought the cracker to his lips, your expression determined. His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no edge to his gaze—just curiosity mixed with something warmer. “Eat,” you murmured, your voice soft but insistent.

Sukuna sighed, his lips twitching as though he wanted to argue. But then he opened his mouth slightly, letting you place the cracker between his lips. He bit into it, chewing slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Happy now?” he asked after swallowing, his tone dry but his eyes betraying the faintest hint of amusement.

“Very,” you replied, a small, triumphant smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that felt more like understanding than awkwardness. You found yourself stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, only to find his gaze occasionally flicking back to you as well. Every time your eyes met his, your stomach fluttered, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger.

When the food was gone, Sukuna leaned back on his hands, letting out a soft exhale. His gaze drifted to the small window, where sunlight filtered through, casting golden streaks across his face. The light softened his sharp features, making him look almost peaceful.

“They’re probably wondering where we are by now,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact but gentler than you expected.

You thought of the others—Gojo’s inevitable dramatic freak-out, Shoko’s knowing smirk—and couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your lips. “Yeah,” you said lightly. “They’re probably planning some over-the-top story already.”

Sukuna glanced back at you, his crimson eyes lingering on your face as though he could read your thoughts. Then he stood, stretching lazily before turning to you and holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low but laced with quiet care. “Let’s head back.”

You hesitated for only a moment, then slipped your hand into his. His grip was warm and steady, a silent reassurance that steadied your racing heart. When he pulled you to your feet, the closeness of him made your breath catch for just a second.

Even after he let go, the warmth of his palm lingered on your skin. As the two of you began to prepare to leave the cabin, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Whatever this fragile, growing bond was between you, it felt real—something neither of you were quite ready to let go of.

When the familiar outline of the hideout came into view, your heart skipped. You could already hear the muffled voices of the group inside, and you braced yourself for Gojo’s inevitable commentary. The thought made you smile faintly despite yourself.

Just before you reached the door, Sukuna placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to him, brows furrowed in question. “What’s—”

“I hope you enjoyed last night,” he said, his tone low but steady, his crimson eyes locked on yours. There was no teasing in his voice, no smirk on his lips—just quiet sincerity.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you could only blink at him. But then warmth spread through your chest, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “I did.” you said softly

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between you. Then he gave a slight nod, his hand dropping from your shoulder as he turned back toward the door.

Together, you stepped inside, the familiar voices and laughter washing over you like a wave.

“THERE YOU TWO ARE!” Gojo’s voice rang out almost immediately, his dramatic gasp followed by a sly grin. “Were you off having some alone time?”

Shoko glanced up from her spot on the couch, rolling her eyes as she leaned back with her cigarette, while Nanami merely raised a brow over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable.

You groaned, already feeling your cheeks heat. “Gojo, don’t start.”

But Sukuna didn’t react to the teasing. He simply shot Gojo a pointed look, the kind that carried enough weight to shut him up instantly, though not without an exaggerated pout. Without a word, Sukuna headed toward the kitchen, leaving the rest of the group momentarily speechless.

You lingered for a beat, still acutely aware of the warmth in your cheeks, before following after him. Sukuna’s broad frame was already moving efficiently through the small kitchen, and though he didn’t say anything as you approached, you noticed the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The day carried on like most others, though a quiet buzz lingered beneath your skin every time Sukuna was near. His usual sharp edges seemed softer, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his crimson eyes drifted to you more than once. Each glance sent a flicker of heat through you that you tried to ignore but couldn’t.

By the time night fell, everyone had gathered in the common area, sharing stories and sipping on whatever rations of tea or canned drinks were left. Gojo, as always, was the loudest, his animated recounting of some pre-apocalypse escapade earning Shoko’s trademark eyerolls and Geto’s quiet smirks.

You sat off to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and letting the lukewarm liquid provide some comfort. There was a rare peace in being surrounded by this makeshift family, even in a world as broken as this one. Sukuna sat in a chair across the room, his elbows resting on his knees, silent as ever. He hadn’t said much, but you felt the weight of his gaze more than once. Each time, it sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered.

Eventually, Gojo’s storytelling tapered off, and one by one, everyone began heading to bed. Shoko and Geto left first, Shoko muttering something about needing a real drink as she disappeared down the hall. Nanami followed shortly after, murmuring about needing rest for another long day ahead.

Gojo lingered, his sharp blue eyes flicking between you and Sukuna. A slow grin spread across his face as he sauntered past. “Don’t stay up too late,” he teased, his tone dripping with implication. “Wouldn’t want anyone to start thinking things.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Goodnight,” he sang, shooting you one last wink before disappearing down the hall.

The common area grew quiet, the soft crackle of the fire filling the space. It wasn’t until then that you realized Sukuna was still there, his chair creaking faintly as he shifted.

You glanced at him, your gaze flicking up briefly before darting back to your empty cup. Your heart raced as you felt his presence grow closer, the quiet sound of his footsteps barely registering before his hand tilted your chin upward, his fingers gentle but firm.

The sudden gesture startled you, and your eyes locked with his. His crimson gaze was intense, searching yours as if looking for something you couldn’t name.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner,” he said, breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “I wasn’t that hungry,” you admitted softly. “I guess I was just… tired.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “You should rest,” he said simply, though his tone carried an unspoken concern that made your chest ache.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing off your pants as you stood. “But I guess I should head to bed before Gojo starts spreading more rumors tomorrow.”

At that, Sukuna smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement lighting up his face. “Let him talk. It’s the most entertainment he gets.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. But before you could turn fully toward the hallway, Sukuna’s hand lifted again, his fingers brushing your cheek. The gentle touch stopped you in your tracks, and when you glanced up at him, his expression had softened in a way that made your chest tighten.

He leaned in slowly, his movements deliberate. His lips brushed yours in a soft, fleeting kiss, so light and careful it made your breath hitch. The warmth of the gesture sent your heart into a frenzy, the intimacy of it leaving you momentarily stunned.

When he pulled back, his thumb grazed your cheek one last time, and his voice was quieter than before. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his tone carrying a tenderness that left you breathless.

You swallowed hard, managing a soft, “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

Satisfied, Sukuna stepped back, his hand falling away as he grabbed his weapon from where it leaned against the wall. Without another word, he headed toward the exit, his steps deliberate but unhurried.

You watched him go, your heart racing and your chest warm with something you couldn’t quite name. The faint creak of the door signaled his departure, and you knew he’d taken the first watch, as he often did.

The weight of his kiss lingered, the memory of his touch etched into your skin as you finally turned toward your room. Once inside, you leaned against the closed door, your breaths unsteady as you tried to process what had just happened. The warmth he left behind stayed with you, wrapping around you like a secret you weren’t ready to share.

For all the chaos of the world outside, this moment—this fragile, connection—felt like a lifeline. And as you climbed into bed, the small smile on your lips refusing to fade.

Three hours later, the soft knock at your door stirred you from a restless half-sleep. Your heart leapt, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d imagined it. But then, there it was again—another knock.

“Come in?” you called softly, sitting up a little straighter.

The door creaked open just enough for Sukuna to step inside, his tall frame illuminated faintly by the flickering firelight from the hallway. His hair was slightly mussed, and the faint exhaustion on his face told you he’d just finished his turn at watch.

“I saw your lamp on,” he said, his deep voice quieter than usual. “You’re still awake?”

You blinked up at him, surprised he’d noticed. “Yeah… couldn’t really sleep.”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studied you for a long moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer. “If you can’t sleep here,” he said, his tone almost casual, “come sleep in my room.”

Your eyes widened slightly, heat creeping into your cheeks. “What?”

“It’s warmer,” he added with a small shrug. “And quieter. Unless you’d rather toss and turn all night.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your thoughts swirling with the faint hum of nervousness. But Sukuna’s gaze was steady, his crimson eyes holding yours, and something about the quiet surety of his offer made you nod. “Okay.”

He stepped back to let you pass, the flicker of satisfaction in his expression barely visible but unmistakable. You grabbed your sweater, slipping it on before following him into the dim hallway. The quiet of the hideout felt heavier this late at night, but Sukuna’s presence was grounding as you walked beside him.

When you entered his room, the warmth hit you immediately, cocooning you in a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you were missing. It wasn’t anything fancy—an old chair with his shirt draped over it, a faint smell of soap, and a small, half-filled shelf in the corner—but it felt like him.

“Get in,” he said, nodding toward the bed as he set his weapon against the wall.

You climbed in, pulling the blanket over yourself. Sukuna slipped his jacket off, tossing it onto the chair, and joined you. The bed dipped under his weight, the tight space bringing you closer than you expected. It should have been awkward, but the warmth of his presence made it feel natural, like this was how it was always meant to be.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds the faint creak of the mattress and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then Sukuna’s voice broke the silence.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

The question was so unexpected that you blinked at him in confusion before letting out a soft laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Green.”

“Why green?”

You thought about it for a moment, your voice softening. “It reminds me of life. Of things growing. It’s… hopeful.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

You tilted your head, watching him. “What about you?”

“Red,” he said without hesitation.

“Of course it is,” you teased, grinning. “Let me guess—bold and intense, just like you?”

“Exactly,” he said, his smirk widening slightly. “You’re catching on.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly. “You’re impossible.”

Sukuna shifted slightly, turning onto his side to face you more fully. His gaze softened, his tone quieter now. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “I guess… I used to be scared of failing. Like, really scared. But now…” You trailed off, your voice fading.

“Now, it feels like there’s nothing left to fail at,” Sukuna finished for you, his voice low but understanding.

You nodded, your chest tightening at the weight of his words. “What about you?” you asked, your voice just as quiet. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

He was silent for a long moment, his crimson eyes meeting yours before flickering away. “I didn’t think I’d still care about anyone after all this,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. “But I do.”

Your heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in his tone, and before you could think, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. He didn’t pull away, his gaze flicking back to you with something unspoken lingering there.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, almost fond.

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. “I’m not tired yet,” you admitted softly.

“Then stop thinking so much,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you whispered, “Maybe I’m just thinking about you.”

His eyes widened briefly before softening, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice warm and low., laced with that familiar teasing edge. “Keep talking like that, and I might start to believe you actually like me.”

You laughed softly, the sound carrying just enough mischief to match his tone. "What? Last night wasn't enough to convince you?"

Sukuna didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. His hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and the warmth of him surrounded you, steady and sure.

When he finally pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady.

“Goodnight, Sukuna,” you whispered, your heart fluttering as you tucked yourself into the blanket.

He shifted closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you gently against him. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his presence cocooned you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, sleep came easily.

The next morning came softly. Sunlight crept through the cracks of the curtains Sukuna never bothered to close fully, casting golden streaks across the room. You stirred first, your body reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth the blanket and Sukuna’s presence had created.

As your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was Sukuna. He was still asleep, one arm draped lazily over the pillow between you two, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see. His brow wasn’t furrowed in annoyance, and his sharp features were softened by sleep. He looked so… peaceful.

You couldn’t help it; a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him for a moment longer than you probably should have. He looked almost boyish like this, the harshness that defined him nowhere to be found. It made your chest tighten in a way that was equal parts comforting and unnerving.

Suddenly, Sukuna’s eyes cracked open, their familiar crimson shade peering at you through sleepy lids. He caught you staring before you could look away.

“Caught you,” he muttered, his voice low and rough with sleep, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you jolted upright, heat rushing to your face. “I wasn’t staring,” you protested, though your voice betrayed your embarrassment.

“Sure you weren’t,” Sukuna said, his smirk deepening as he stretched lazily, the movement shifting the blanket and giving you a glimpse of his toned torso. He caught the way your gaze flickered, and his smirk turned downright mischievous.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the laugh bubbling in your chest betrayed the scowl you tried to wear.

Sukuna caught the pillow easily, his smirk never faltering. “And yet, here you are,” he teased, sitting up now. His hair was an unruly mess, stray strands falling across his forehead, and somehow, it made him look even more effortlessly attractive.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Maybe I should leave, then.”

“Don’t.”

The word was quiet, softer than you’d expected. It caught you off guard, your gaze snapping to his. Sukuna wasn’t looking at you this time; instead, he was busying himself by pulling the blanket off his legs. But the sincerity in his voice lingered, settling in your chest like a warmth you couldn’t quite name.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t press him. Instead, you stretched and threw your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m starving,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.

Sukuna grunted in agreement, ruffling a hand through his messy hair. “You go ahead,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’ll be down in a minute”

You nodded and slipped out of the room, leaving the door cracked behind you as you made your way to the common area. A soft smile played on your lips as you walked, the warmth of Sukuna’s presence still wrapping around you like an invisible blanket. The morning light felt softer, the world a little brighter, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of that had to do with the man still upstairs.

When you entered the common area, Gojo, naturally, was the first to spot you, and his mischievous grin appeared before you’d even said a word. “Ah, look who finally graced us with her presence,” Gojo said as soon as you walked in, his grin sharp and teasing. “Had to pry yourself away from Sukuna, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, making a beeline for the pot. “No, I was just savoring the last few minutes of peace before dealing with you.”

“Rude,” Gojo shot back, dramatically clutching his chest. “I’m the heart of this group, you know. Where would you all be without me?”

“Be more efficient,” Nanami said without looking up from his notebook.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself some tea. As you turned back toward the table, your gaze caught on a faint smear of blood on Gojo’s forearm. You frowned, setting your mug down.

“Gojo,” you said, nodding toward his arm. “What’s with the cut? Why haven’t you cleaned that up?”

Gojo glanced at his arm like it was nothing. “Oh, this? Just a little souvenir from yesterday. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “You know how dangerous infections are. Why didn’t you take care of it?”

“We’re out of supplies,” Gojo admitted, his tone softening slightly. “There wasn’t much left to clean it properly, and I didn’t want to waste what we had on something small.”

Shoko sighed, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray. “It’s not about wasting supplies, Gojo. If that gets infected, you’ll need more than just antiseptic. You should’ve told me.”

“I knew you’d worry,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I figured I could tough it out until we restocked.”

“Toughing it out doesn’t make you invincible,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice. “We need more medical supplies.”

“That’s what we’ve been discussing,” Nanami interjected, his voice calm but firm. He tapped the notebook in front of him. “The pharmacy on the east side is our best option, though it’s risky. We’re almost out of gauze, antiseptic, and antibiotics.”

And that hardware store nearby?” Geto asked. “We could use batteries and tools.”

“It’s on the way,” Nanami confirmed. “We’ll hit both if we can.”

The sound of footsteps pulled your attention to the doorway. Sukuna entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He walked over to the table, scanning the group before taking the seat next to you without hesitation, his arm brushing yours as he settled in.

“Perfect timing,” Nanami said, sliding the notebook toward Sukuna. “We’re working out the next supply run.”

Sukuna scanned over it, his tone clipped as he spoke. “Pharmacy on the east side?”

“And the hardware store nearby,” Nanami added. “Tools, batteries, anything we can scavenge.”

Sukuna flipped through the notebook, nodding as he scanned the list. “We’ll split into pairs. Smaller groups, less noise.”

“I call Shoko!” Gojo said immediately, raising his hand.

“Absolutely not,” Shoko said.

“You’re with Nanami,” Sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument.

Gojo pouted but didn’t push it. “No fun.”

Geto leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “What about me? Where do you want me?”

“You’ll take the hardware store with Shoko,” Sukuna said, glancing at him briefly. “Grab anything useful.”

“What about me?” you asked, tilting your head at Sukuna.

“You’re with me,” he said simply, his focus already shifting back to the notebook. “We leave in about an hour.”

The group was gearing up for a supply run, the air thick with humidity that made your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin. Sukuna stood near the entrance of the base, meticulously adjusting his weapons and surveying the group with his usual commanding presence. His sharp crimson eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and then he spoke.

“You’re staying here,” he said abruptly, his tone brooking no argument.

You blinked, startled. “What? No. I’m coming with you. You just said I was going to be paired with you, and we need as many hands as possible. You know I’m more than capable.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing. “I said you’re staying.”

The others glanced between the two of you, sensing the brewing tension but wisely choosing to stay silent.

You crossed your arms, your voice firm. “You can’t just decide that for me, Sukuna. I’ve done this plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

His expression darkened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Last time we went out, you almost got yourself killed. I’m not risking that again.”

“That was almost two weeks ago, Sukuna! ” you snapped, your cheeks flushing with anger. “You can’t wrap me in bubble wrap because of one close call.”

“It’s not about that!” he barked, his voice loud enough to make Shoko wince and Nanami glance up from his knife sharpening. His glare softened slightly as he lowered his tone, his fists clenching at his sides. “You’re not going. That’s final.”

“Oh, screw this,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your bag and striding toward the door. But Sukuna moved faster, stepping in front of you and blocking the exit with his broad frame.

“You’re not going,” he repeated, his voice quiet but ironclad.

You glared up at him, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just tell me what to do! I’m not some helpless kid, Sukuna. I can handle myself!”

His crimson eyes bore into yours, and without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you a few steps away from the others, out of earshot. His voice dropped to a low, heated murmur.

“You think I care about anyone else getting hurt like that?” he said, his tone raw and unguarded. “You think I can just stand by and let it happen to you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his thumb brushing your skin as if he was trying to steady himself.

“Sukuna…” you began, your voice faltering.

“No,” he cut you off, his tone softer now but no less resolute. “You’re staying. I can’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he fought to find the words. “You’re not going. I can do this all day if I have to.”

Your heart raced, caught between anger and the ache of understanding. His protectiveness wasn’t just about control—it was about fear. Fear of losing you. And yet, the high-handed way he handled it still grated on your nerves.

You pulled your wrist free, glaring at him. “Fine. Stay here all day, Sukuna. I’m done arguing.” With that, you spun on your heel and stormed off, your frustration bubbling over into every sharp step.

Behind you, Sukuna let out a heavy sigh but didn’t follow. He stood there for a moment, watching your retreating figure, before turning back toward the group.

Gojo let out a low whistle. “Oh, man. She really told you, huh?”

Sukuna’s glare could have melted steel. “Shut it, Gojo.”

Gojo held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Alright, alright. Don’t kill the messenger.”

Sukuna sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck before turning back to the group. “Let’s move,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for further comments.

As the group filed out, Sukuna cast one last glance down the hallway where you’d disappeared. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything, following the others into the humid air outside.

The day passed slowly, tension lingering in the air after the group left for the supply run. You stayed in your room, not wanting to interact with anyone. Despite the quiet, your thoughts churned, replaying the heated argument with Sukuna earlier. He hadn’t come to you since, and you hadn’t gone to him either. The hours dragged on.

After two hours, you heard the heavy sound of boots echoing through the base’s entrance. You stayed in your room, listening as the others returned. Their muffled voices carried down the hall, but Sukuna didn’t come looking for you, and you didn’t make any move to join them.

When it came time for your turn on watch, you grabbed your gear and made your way to the watchpoint on the roof. The air was cool and quiet up here, the stars scattered across the sky in a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the world below. You settled into your spot, letting the stillness of the night ease your mind.

The sound of footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you saw Sukuna approaching, his broad frame unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you asked, your voice steady but guarded as you turned back toward the horizon.

“I can’t fall asleep,” he said simply, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms. “Figured I’d check on you.”

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You don’t need to keep checking on me, Sukuna. I can handle a watch.”

He let out a low sigh, stepping closer and leaning against the edge beside you. “It’s not about you being capable,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter than usual. “It’s about… me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna kept his gaze on the horizon, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “When you’re out there, I don’t think straight. Every time something happens, even something small, it feels like my chest is in a vice. It messes with my head.”

You stayed silent, your heart twisting at the raw honesty in his voice. He rarely opened up like this, and hearing him now made your frustration from earlier melt away.

“You’re important to me,” Sukuna continued, finally meeting your gaze. His crimson eyes softened slightly, vulnerability flickering there. “I’m not used to… caring about people. Not like this. It’s different with you.”

Your breath caught at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Sukuna,” you said gently, “I understand why you worry, but you can’t keep doing this—ordering me to stay back, acting like I’m fragile. I’ve survived this long because I’m capable. You have to trust that I can handle myself.”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, before letting out a resigned sigh. “I know you can handle yourself,” he admitted. “It doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

You reached out without thinking, placing a hand on his arm. “You can worry,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me do my part too. I’m not going anywhere, Sukuna. You’re stuck with me.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, a small smile breaking through.

Sukuna huffed a quiet laugh, the tension easing slightly. He looked back at the stars for a moment, then turned his attention to you. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll try.”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. The unexpected warmth of the gesture sent a flutter through your chest, leaving you momentarily breathless.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, the cool breeze and the faint chirp of crickets filling the quiet. Finally, Sukuna pushed off the edge. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said, his voice lighter now.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the whole point of first watch.”

He shook his head, a faint smile lingering on his lips as he turned to leave. Just before he stepped back inside, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “No promises.”

Sukuna shook his head again, disappearing down the stairs. You turned back to the horizon, the weight of his words and the look in his eyes lingering long after he was gone.

The group was sitting together in the common area, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Shoko was sketching plans for organizing the medical supplies, Nanami was engrossed in an old, battered book, and Gojo was shamelessly cheating Suguru in a game of cards. You were tucked on the couch beside Sukuna, his quiet presence grounding despite the lighthearted chatter.

The sound of glass breaking in the distance shattered the calm. Everyone froze.

“What the hell was that?” Suguru asked, his voice low but sharp.

Sukuna stood instantly, his hand moving to the knife strapped to his side. “Stay quiet,” he ordered.

Gojo’s usual grin faded into something more serious. “Sounds like we have company.”

The group crept toward the hallway that led to the entrance of the base. Your heart pounded as Sukuna motioned for you to stay close behind him. The sound of voices filtered through the air, rough and unfamiliar.

“They’ve got supplies. Enough for us to take over,” one voice muttered.

“They’ve got a good setup,” another added. “If they’re here, we’ll deal with them.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping the hilt of his weapon. He leaned down to whisper to you. “Stay close. And watch your back.”

You nodded, clutching a makeshift weapon—an old pipe—you’d grabbed from the corner of the room. The air was thick with tension.

The door burst open, revealing a group of five strangers armed with weapons. The man in front sneered, his eyes scanning the group. “Looks like the place isn’t abandoned after all,” he said. “Hand over what you’ve got and walk away, or we’ll take it by force.”

“Not happening,” Sukuna growled, stepping forward to block you from view. His imposing stance left no room for negotiation.

Suguru, Nanami, and Gojo flanked him, their expressions hard and ready for a fight.

The leader chuckled, clearly unimpressed by the united front. “Suit yourself.”

Chaos erupted. Sukuna surged forward like a force of nature, his knife flashing as he disarmed one of the attackers with brutal efficiency. Suguru took on another, his movements fluid and precise. Nanami and Gojo worked in sync to handle the rest, their combined strength overwhelming the intruders.

You kept low, the pipe gripped tightly in your hands. One of the attackers broke away from the chaos, his gaze locking on you. Without hesitation, he lunged, his knife aimed directly at you.

You dodged swiftly, the adrenaline sharpening your instincts. With a calculated swing, you slammed the pipe into his ribs, the force making him stagger back with a pained grunt. He recovered quickly, charging at you again, but you were faster. Ducking under his swing, you delivered a sharp kick to his knee, sending him toppling forward.

Seizing the opportunity, you raised the pipe and brought it down on his weapon hand, forcing him to drop the knife with a cry of pain. A second swing to his shoulder sent him sprawling to the ground, groaning and defeated.

The last of the intruders realized they were outmatched and scrambled to retreat, dragging their injured comrades with them. Gojo smirked as he shoved one of them toward the door. “And don’t come back,” he warned, his tone almost playful despite the seriousness of the situation.

As the door slammed shut, the room fell into silence. Shoko stepped in from the hallway, scanning the group. “Everyone okay?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

“Still in one piece,” Suguru said, wiping blood off his knuckles.

“Same,” Nanami added, adjusting his glasses.

Gojo slung an arm around Suguru, grinning despite the scuffle. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you protect a base!”

Sukuna ignored him entirely, his attention fixed on you as he crossed the room. His hands settled gently on your shoulders, his crimson eyes scanning you for any signs of injury.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softer than you expected.

You nodded, your voice soft but steady. “I’m fine. I handled it.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he gave the smallest nod, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer. “I saw,” he murmured. “You were incredible.”

His words made your chest tighten, warmth blooming under the weight of his quiet praise. “Thanks,” you said, your gaze holding his. “But you don’t always have to worry so much, Sukuna. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I’m still going to worry. I can’t help it.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and your breath hitched. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, the space between you filled with unspoken emotions.

“Sukuna…” you began, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“I just want you safe,” he said quietly, his voice dipping into something more vulnerable. “That’s all.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest ache, and you reached up, placing your hand lightly over one of his. “I’ll be careful,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a small nod, his thumb brushing against your shoulder before he finally let his hands fall away. “Good,” he said, his voice returning to its usual gruffness, though the softness in his gaze remained.

Later, as the group settled back down, you caught Sukuna’s gaze from across the room. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a subtle nod—silent reassurance that he was still watching out for you. You returned it with a faint smile, a quiet understanding passing between you that made your heart flutter.

Even in the midst of chaos, Sukuna’s protectiveness and care grounded you, the connection between you feeling stronger and more certain with every shared glance and unspoken word.

Later that evening, after the chaos had finally subsided and the group ensured the intruders were gone for good, you found Sukuna sitting in the corner of the common area. His shoulders were hunched forward, his jaw tight as he dragged a bloodied cloth over his forearm in careless swipes.

You frowned at the sight of him. He was clearly doing more harm than good. Without a word, you grabbed the first-aid kit from Shoko’s stash and made your way over to him.

“Let me see,” you said gently, kneeling beside him.

“I’m fine,” Sukuna muttered, his tone low and dismissive.

“You’re not,” you replied softly, catching his wrist before he could brush you off. “Hold still.”

He tensed at your touch, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t argue. You turned his arm toward you, examining the shallow gash on his forearm. Dried blood streaked his skin, and scratches lined his knuckles, the remnants of the earlier fight.

You dipped a piece of gauze in antiseptic and pressed it to the wound, your touch firm but careful. Sukuna hissed under his breath at the sting, though he didn’t pull away, his crimson eyes fixed somewhere beyond you.

“You know,” you murmured after a moment, breaking the silence, “for someone who’s so strict about keeping me safe, you’re not very good at taking care of yourself.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound low and rough. “It’s different.”

“It’s not,” you countered softly, glancing up at him. “If you keep this up, I might have to start babysitting you.”

He gave a faint smirk, his lips tugging upward just slightly. “Good luck with that.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile, wrapping the clean bandage around his arm. “Well, maybe you could make my job a little easier next time and stop bleeding everywhere.”

“Noted,” he said dryly, though there was a faint warmth in his tone now.

Once the wound was clean and properly bandaged, you leaned back slightly, packing up the first-aid kit. Sukuna stayed quiet, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Before standing, you hesitated, your voice soft but firm as you said, “I’m serious. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His expression shifted, the teasing edge fading as his gaze locked onto yours. There was something raw and unguarded in his crimson eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t speak.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice unusually gentle.

The air between you grew heavier, a quiet intensity settling in. Slowly, Sukuna reached for your wrist again, his touch deliberate and sure. He pulled you closer, and before you could fully process the moment, his hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

He leaned in, his movements slow and purposeful, and when his lips met yours, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was soft yet firm, unhurried but filled with all the things he’d never say aloud.

Your hands instinctively clutched the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing in a crumbling world. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss just slightly.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the quiet promise of the moment.

You stayed like that, breathing him in, letting the world around you fade away. Nothing else mattered—just the closeness, the quiet, and the unspoken understanding between you.

Three weeks had passed, and things within the group felt oddly the same—except for you and Sukuna. You were a couple now, a quiet shift that felt natural, like something that had always been meant to happen. It didn’t change much; Sukuna still acted like the gruff leader everyone relied on, but there was a softness reserved just for you. He remained protective but wasn’t overbearing, and his efforts to teach you new ways to defend yourself were a testament to how deeply he cared.

You were all gathered in the common area, finishing up a shared meal. The mood was relaxed—Shoko and you were locked in a game of cards, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the table, clearly plotting her next move. Across the room, Gojo lounged on the couch, casually tossing a small rubber ball against the wall and catching it on the rebound, the steady rhythm blending into the quiet hum of the evening.

Nanami and Geto sat at the table nearby, discussing supply organization in low voices, their tones measured and focused. Sukuna leaned against the wall in the far corner, his hat tilted low over his face. He looked like he was resting, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, his hand resting loosely on his thigh. Even in repose, there was a sense of readiness about him, like he was never truly off guard.

The soft clink of cards, the muted thud of Gojo’s ball, and the faint murmurs of conversation created an atmosphere of calm—a rare moment of normalcy in a world that had long since lost it.

Then it happened.

The crackle of static from the old radio in the corner made everyone pause, heads snapping toward it. The thing had been useless for months, a relic of a time when communication had felt possible. But now, there was something different. A sound.

“Was that…?” Geto started, trailing off as everyone stared at the radio.

And then it came—a voice, distorted but unmistakable: “If you can hear this… find us.”

Your breath caught as the message continued, giving coordinates and repeating the plea: “This is a government-sanctioned safety zone. Survivors are welcome. If you can hear this… find us.”

The room fell silent, the voice repeating again and again, with static filling the gaps like an ominous reminder of how fragile this moment was.

“What now?” you whispered, breaking the silence. “We have to try, right? I mean… if this is real…”

“If it’s real,” Shoko said cautiously. “It could be a trap. Or a leftover transmission from months ago.”

Nanami crouched by the map spread across the table, tracing his finger over the coordinates. “It’s far,” he said, his voice measured. “Three days at least, maybe more, depending on the terrain.”

“That’s not that far,” Gojo quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve been on longer supply runs.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a supply run,” Geto countered. “This is everything. We’d be leaving the base. Everything we’ve built here.”

You looked around the room, seeing the hesitation on everyone’s faces. They all had valid points, but the idea of leaving behind your hard-won safety was terrifying. Yet…

“What if it’s real?” you said softly, your gaze moving to Sukuna. “We could be safe. All of us. Together.”

The weight of your words seemed to hang in the air, and everyone’s eyes shifted to Sukuna, waiting for the final call.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied the radio, his expression unreadable. “We don’t have enough information,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “We don’t even know if it’s still active.”

“But we can check,” Gojo suggested. “Send a small group ahead to scope it out. Worst-case scenario, we turn back.”

“It’s not that simple,” Shoko interjected. “If it’s real, we’d need everyone to relocate together. Splitting up could be dangerous. Not to mention the risk of moving with limited supplies.”

Arguments broke out, voices overlapping as the group weighed the risks and possibilities. You stayed quiet, your eyes on Sukuna as he listened, his brow furrowed slightly—a telltale sign that he was deep in thought.

Finally, Sukuna raised a hand, silencing the room. “Enough,” he said, his tone cutting through the noise. He glanced at you briefly, his expression softening before turning back to the others. “We’re not making any decisions tonight. Everyone get some rest. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

The group reluctantly agreed, dispersing with murmured conversations and worried glances. Shoko gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before retreating to her room, and Geto and Nanami exchanged a few last words before heading off. Gojo tossed his rubber ball one last time, catching it deftly before disappearing down the hallway.

The room emptied, leaving only you and Sukuna behind. For a moment, the silence felt heavier, the weight of the decision looming over both of you.

You glanced over at Sukuna, standing at the table with his hands braced against its edge, his crimson eyes fixed on the map spread out before him. His hat was pushed back, and his sharp features were locked in an unreadable expression as he studied the coordinates. Something about the weight of this decision on his shoulders made your chest ache, and without thinking, you walked over to him.

“Sukuna,” you said softly, drawing his attention. His crimson eyes shifted to yours, and before he could respond, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest.

He stiffened for just a moment before his body relaxed, his arms coming up to hold you against him. One hand rested on your back, the other settling lightly on your head, his touch gentle in a way that was becoming familiar.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low, a softness in his tone reserved only for you.

You nodded against his chest, but your voice wavered slightly when you replied. “I just… I don’t know what the right thing to do is. What if this is our chance?”

His grip tightened slightly, grounding you. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his hand brushing up and down your back in a soothing motion. “Together.”

And somehow, despite the uncertainty ahead, that was enough.

Later that night, you were on your side of Sukuna’s bed, his arm draped lazily around your waist. The weight of the day’s revelation lingered as you both lay in silence. He stared up at the ceiling, tension radiating from him.

“Hey,” you murmured, turning to look at him. “You’re quiet. What’s on your mind?”

He sighed heavily, his hand absently tracing circles on your hip. “You know what’s on my mind,” he muttered. “That damn broadcast.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, studying his face. His usual confidence was replaced with something more vulnerable. “You don’t think we should go, do you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It feels… reckless. We’ve built something here. We’re safe, we have supplies, defenses. Why risk it for some half-baked promise of safety?”

You brushed your fingers along his jaw, drawing his gaze to you. “Because it’s not just about safety, Sukuna. It’s about living. Don’t you think we deserve a chance at something better?”

His eyes softened, but doubt flickered there. “What if it’s not real? Or worse, what if it’s a trap? I can’t risk losing anyone. I can’t risk losing you.”

Your chest ached at his words. “You won’t lose me,” you said softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “But staying here forever isn’t an option. Supplies won’t last, and neither will luck. This might be our only chance.”

Sukuna was quiet for a long moment, his hand moving up to cradle your face. “You really believe this is the right thing to do?”

You nodded. “I do. And I think you do too. You just hate taking risks.”

A wry smile tugged at his lips. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Good thing you like me that way.”

He chuckled against your lips, pulling you closer. “More than I probably should.”

The weight of his words hung in the air before he sighed again, his forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “We’ll go. But if anything feels off, we’re turning back. I’m not taking chances with your life—or anyone else’s.”

Relief flooded through you, and you kissed him again, this time longer and sweeter. “I promise you won’t regret this,” you whispered.

His lips brushed against your temple. “I already do,” he teased, though his tone was fond. “But I trust you.”

You smiled, settling against his chest. For the first time that night, you felt hopeful. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face it alone.

The next morning, everyone gathered in the common area, their faces tense as they waited for Sukuna to speak. You sat beside him, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. Sukuna looked more serious than usual, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp eyes sweeping over the group.

“Alright,” he began, his voice firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. “We’re going.”

Gojo’s brows shot up, a grin spreading across his face. “Really? Didn’t think you’d go for it, boss.”

“It’s risky, and I’m not about to pretend it’s not. We’ve all heard messages like this before—false promises, traps, or worse. But…” He glanced briefly at you, almost like he was drawing strength from your presence, “We can’t stay here forever. It’s not sustainable.”

Nanami, who had been studying the map for most of the morning, gave a short nod. “Three days on foot if we pace ourselves carefully. We’ll need to chart out stops for rest and security checks.”

Suguru ran a hand through his hair. “And what if we run into others? It’s a long trip, and there’s no telling who else might’ve heard the same message.”

“We’ll deal with it,” Sukuna said simply. “We stick to formations. Pairs. No one wanders off.” His gaze swept over the group as if daring someone to argue. “We’re smart about this. It’s going to take every one of us to pull this off, so don’t screw around.”

Shoko leaned against the wall, arms crossed but with a faint smirk. “So, are we packing light or taking extra supplies? I’m guessing there’s no guarantee we’ll find much along the way.”

Sukuna nodded. “We take what we need and a little extra, but no overloading. If we’re too weighed down, we’ll slow ourselves. Weapons, medical supplies, and enough food and water to last us at least four days, just in case.”

Gojo whistled. “Man, I can’t wait to see what the government’s offering. Maybe it’s like one of those utopia bases with hot food, comfy beds—”

Sukuna shot him a dry look. “You’ll be lucky if it’s not another graveyard.”

The mood dampened at his words, but you stepped in to lighten the tension. “We’re strong enough to handle this. We’ve survived worse.” You looked around at the group, meeting each of their gazes. “We’ve got each other, and that’s gotten us this far. It’s going to be okay.”

Sukuna glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up just slightly before he turned back to the group. “Exactly. This team’s survived everything the world’s thrown at us so far. Let’s not forget that.”

Nanami placed the map on the table and pointed at a few locations. “I’ve marked safe houses we’ve passed before and areas we can use as rest stops. It’s important we pace ourselves to avoid exhaustion.”

Suguru nodded. “I’ll help pack weapons and make sure we’ve got ammo. Gojo, you’re on food and water duty.”

“Why do I always get the boring job?” Gojo grumbled, but he moved to help nonetheless.

Shoko stretched, already moving toward her stash of medical supplies. “I’ll get the first aid kits ready. You’re all going to need me when this inevitably goes sideways.”

As everyone began moving, talking through what needed to be packed and how to secure the base before leaving, you felt Sukuna’s hand brush yours lightly. When you looked up at him, his eyes were steady, unwavering.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked quietly, just for you.

You smiled softly and nodded. “I’m sure. We’ll make it through this, Sukuna. Together.”

Something flickered in his expression—something tender that he rarely let anyone see. He gave your hand a small squeeze before pulling away to bark orders at Gojo, who was trying to sneak extra snacks into the supply bags.

You watched him work, the leader everyone trusted, and your heart swelled with pride.

The day stretched on as preparations fell into a steady rhythm. The group moved with quiet purpose, packing essentials and double-checking supplies. You busied yourself with securing the last of the gear, tying packs and testing straps to ensure nothing would fall apart mid-journey.

Sukuna stood nearby, inspecting weapons with Suguru, his sharp gaze flicking up every so often to survey the group. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could feel his watchful presence—an unspoken assurance that he was there, keeping everything in check.

By sunset, everyone gathered in the common area, the weight of what lay ahead settling heavily over the group. There was little need for unnecessary chatter now; everyone understood the stakes.

Sukuna’s voice broke the silence, steady but quieter than usual. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Gojo stretched dramatically, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Ugh, dawn? You’re cruel, Sukuna.”

“You’ll live,” Sukuna replied flatly, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.

Nanami rolled up the map carefully before tucking it into his pack. “I’ll set an early alarm to make sure we’re ready. We can’t afford delays.”

As the group began to disperse, you lingered, tightening the straps on your pack for what felt like the tenth time. Sukuna caught the motion and stepped toward you, his footsteps deliberate and quiet.

“You’re overpacking,” he muttered, eyeing the weight of your bag.

You glanced up at him with a small smile. “I just want to make sure we’re covered.”

Sukuna huffed a quiet breath, his tone gentler than before. “We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

His confidence was comforting, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The dim light of the setting sun filtered through cracks in the walls, casting a soft glow over his features. In that moment, he looked less guarded—his edges softened, revealing a side of him few ever saw.

“You’re not nervous?” you asked softly.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, considering your question. “Not nervous. Just… aware.” He paused, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “It’s a big risk, leaving what we’ve built here. But if there’s even a chance at something better…”

You nodded, understanding his unspoken hesitation. “It’s worth trying.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before his gaze fell on your pack again. Without a word, he stepped forward and started loosening one of the straps you’d tightened too much.

“Sukuna, what—?”

“You’re going to hurt yourself carrying this much weight,” he said with quiet authority, crouching slightly to sift through the contents of your bag. He pulled out a few unnecessary items, including an extra water bottle and a bulky flashlight, setting them aside with a quiet shake of his head. “Relax.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You’re fussing.”

He paused, shooting you a look that was equal parts glare and amusement. “Shut up.”

You couldn’t help but grin, warmth blooming in your chest at his uncharacteristically soft gesture. When he finished, he straightened and looked down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, but instead, he rested his hand lightly on your shoulder.

“Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“You’re always keeping watch,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his tone steady and reassuring.

He gave your shoulder one last squeeze before stepping back, his touch lingering in your thoughts as much as on your skin.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, lingering for just a moment longer.

“Night,” Sukuna replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.

As you headed toward your room, you glanced back. Sukuna stood by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. His broad frame was silhouetted by the last traces of light, his posture steady and resolute—like a shield against whatever was coming.

For all the uncertainty ahead, one thing was clear: you weren’t in this alone.

The room was still cloaked in darkness when a gentle hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you blinked awake, the faint silhouette of Sukuna coming into focus above you.

“Time to go,” he murmured softly, his voice unusually tender.

You nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you pushed yourself upright. Sukuna crouched by the bed, watching you with an unreadable look in his crimson eyes. It wasn’t like him to linger like this, and the way his gaze flickered—uncertain, almost hesitant—told you there was something on his mind.

“What is it?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna exhaled, running a hand through his hair before dropping it to his knee. “Listen… before we go out there, I need you to promise me something.”

You tilted your head, now fully awake and focused on him. “What kind of promise?”

He shifted closer, his expression serious, but there was something softer about him in this moment. “If things go south… if anything happens, you come with me. No matter what. You stick with me—understand?”

“Sukuna…”

“I mean it,” he cut in, his voice firmer this time, though not harsh. “Don’t try to be a hero. Don’t run off to help someone else first. You come with me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, the words tumbling out faster now, like he was afraid you’d stop him.

“I know you’re strong,” he said, his tone steady but raw. “I know you can handle yourself. You’ve proved that over and over. But this isn’t about how capable you are.”

He paused, his jaw tightening as his gaze dropped for a brief moment before meeting yours again. “I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “Not you.”

The vulnerability in his words tugged at your chest, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him—this man who’d spent so long guarding himself, now laying it all bare in front of you.

“Sukuna,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He started to speak again, as if he still wasn’t sure he’d made himself clear, but you silenced him by leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His words faltered as he stilled, taken off guard, before his hands came up to gently cup your face, deepening the kiss just slightly.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your hands curling lightly around his wrists. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured. “I promise.”

He stared at you for a moment, his crimson eyes searching yours, as if to make sure you meant it. Finally, he let out a small, shaky breath, his hands lingering against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

“You’re too good at shutting me up, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone—only warmth.

You grinned softly, brushing your thumb across one of the callouses on his hand. “Someone has to keep you from overthinking.”

Sukuna huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning in to kiss you once more—this time slower, gentler, like he was memorizing the feel of you before the day ahead.

When he pulled back, his thumb traced along your jaw, his voice soft as he spoke. “I know you’re not afraid. And I know you’ll fight like hell out there if you have to. But promise me you’ll let me protect you when it counts.”

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

Satisfied, Sukuna stood and extended a hand to you, his gaze still holding yours. “Come on,” he said quietly, helping you to your feet. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you followed him to the door, you felt his hand settle against your lower back, a quiet reassurance that he was there. Whatever the day held—whatever the world outside threw at you—you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t in this alone. And neither was he.

The common room was alive with quiet activity when you and Sukuna entered. The group moved in practiced motions—securing packs, checking weapons, and mentally preparing for the journey ahead.

Gojo was by his bag, cramming even more food into its already overstuffed frame. A loaf of bread jutted out of one pocket, while an entire bag of dried fruit threatened to burst another seam. He hummed quietly, clearly in his own world, as he tried to wedge a jar of honey on top of it all.

Sukuna, spotting the chaos, strode over with purposeful steps. Without a word, he smacked Gojo lightly on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Gojo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to face him.

“You’re overpacking,” Sukuna said flatly, crouching down and unzipping Gojo’s bag. His hands moved swiftly, pulling out items one by one—a jar of pickles, a deck of cards, and yet another loaf of bread.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gojo protested, grabbing for the deck of cards. “That’s important! What if we get bored?”

“Then you can count how many times I’ve saved your ass,” Sukuna shot back, shoving the cards onto the table.

As Gojo launched into an impassioned defense of each item’s “essential value,” you crouched beside Shoko, who was cross-legged on the floor near the corner. She was surrounded by an array of medical supplies, organizing her kit with her usual calm precision.

Shoko glanced up as you approached, her eyes narrowing slightly before she gave a small, knowing smirk. “You ready for this?” she asked, her tone light but her gaze sharp.

You helped her tuck a few spare bandages into the corners of her overstuffed med kit. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a small shrug. “What about you?”

“Always am,” she replied casually, though her expression softened just slightly as she glanced at you. “Don’t let them push you too hard out there. Especially him.” She jerked her chin toward Sukuna, who was now pulling yet another item—what looked like a full bag of candy—out of Gojo’s bag.

You chuckled softly. “He’s not that bad.”

Shoko arched a brow, clearly unconvinced, but her smirk lingered. “Sure. Just remember to look out for yourself too. Even the great Sukuna Ryomen can’t see everything.”

Her words held an odd warmth, a rare expression of her care in her typically sarcastic manner. You gave her a faint smile and nudged her lightly. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll keep an eye on you too.”

Shoko huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she zipped her med kit shut. “You’d better.”

Straightening, you glanced over and noticed Sukuna was done with Gojo, who now looked dejectedly at his significantly lighter bag. Sukuna had moved to the table with Nanami and Geto, his sharp focus now on the map spread before them.

“What’s the update?” Sukuna asked, his tone cutting through the ambient murmurs.

Nanami straightened, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “We’ve mapped out a route. Three days if we push through steadily, but the open stretches will leave us vulnerable.”

Geto nodded, tracing a longer, winding trail on the map with his finger. “There’s an alternate route with more cover—woods, small towns—but it’ll take five days, minimum.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened as he studied the map, the weight of the decision clearly etched into his features. “We’ll stick with the shorter route. We’ll be exposed, but we’ll move faster.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained fixed on the map for a moment longer, his fingers lightly tracing the marked route. He exhaled through his nose, the sound low and decisive, before straightening. His sharp crimson gaze lifted from the map, sweeping over the group with an authority that commanded immediate attention.

“Ten minutes,” he said, his tone firm but measured. “Make sure you’re ready to move. We’re not leaving anything behind.”

The room buzzed with renewed energy as everyone went back to their tasks. You grabbed your pack and double-checked its contents—water, food, a small med kit Shoko had prepared, and a few personal items you’d managed to keep over the months. It felt heavy on your back, but the weight was nothing compared to the uncertainty churning in your chest.

As you tightened the straps, Sukuna appeared beside you, his presence as steady as ever. His expression was unreadable, but his crimson eyes held a flicker of something softer as they met yours. “You good?” he asked quietly.

You glanced up at him, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. Just… nervous, I guess.”

His hand brushed lightly against your lower back—a small, comforting touch that spoke louder than words. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady. “Don’t overthink it. You’re with me.”

That simple reassurance sent a wave of warmth through you, soothing your nerves. You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I know.”

Moments later, Sukuna gave the call to move out. The group assembled near the exit, weapons in hand and packs secured. Tension hung thick in the air, unspoken but shared by everyone. Without a word, you all stepped out into the dim, early morning light.

The world beyond your base stretched out in eerie quiet. Half-collapsed buildings loomed like hollowed-out skeletons, the streets littered with debris and rusted cars. It had once been home, but now it was nothing more than a shadow of what it used to be—a haunting reminder of the world you’d all lost.

Sukuna led the way, his steps steady and purposeful, his gaze razor-sharp as he scanned the surroundings. You walked beside him, glancing back occasionally to check on the others. Nanami stayed close to Shoko, who carried her bag of medical supplies, her expression calm but alert. Geto and Gojo took up the rear, their sharp eyes darting to every corner, watchful for any signs of movement.

The first few hours passed uneventfully, the silence broken only by the sound of footsteps crunching against gravel and the occasional groan of strained metal from the decaying city. But even in the stillness, an air of unease clung to the group. The open streets left you all feeling exposed, and every creak or shift of rubble sent a jolt of tension through you.

After a while, Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and meant only for you. “Stay close to me, alright?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sudden break in silence. “I am close to you.”

“Closer,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Just in case.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you stepped closer to his side, matching his pace as you pressed forward. The proximity was reassuring, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone.

The journey ahead was uncertain, and the message you’d heard on the radio left more questions than answers. But one thing you knew for sure: as long as Sukuna was by your side, and as long as you had each other, you could face whatever lay ahead.

Together, you would endure. Together, you would survive.

The day stretched on, the sun climbing higher into the sky and beating down on the cracked pavement and overgrown roads. The group moved in steady silence, speaking only when necessary. Sukuna’s presence beside you was a steady anchor—his movements deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, like a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

By midday, Nanami led the group into a wooded area just off the main road. The forest was dense, shadowy, and alive with the hum of insects and the rustle of unseen creatures. The air was cooler here, the canopy of leaves offering a welcome respite from the relentless sun.

Sukuna dropped his pack against a tree and motioned for everyone to take a quick break. “Fifteen minutes,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Drink water. Eat something if you need it. Then we’re moving again.”

You sank down against the rough bark of a nearby tree, taking a long sip from your water bottle. Sukuna sat beside you, his back straight, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his weapon as he scanned the woods. Even in this moment of relative calm, he was alert, his crimson eyes flickering between the shadows.

“Do you ever relax?” you teased, nudging his boot lightly with yours.

He snorted, his gaze flicking to you briefly before returning to the treeline. “Not when I’ve got a reason to stay on edge.”

“Are you saying I make you paranoid?” you quipped, tilting your head with a small smile.

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his voice was quieter, softer. “You give me something to lose.”

The flutter in your chest was immediate, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words settled over you. Sukuna wasn’t one to express himself like this often, and when he did, it always left you breathless.

Before you could come up with a response, Gojo’s voice cut through the quiet. “Hey, you mind sharing that water over there?” His tone was unusually casual, but you could see he was already scheming something.

You sighed, passing him your bottle as he exaggerated a grateful sigh. “You’re the best,” he said with a grin, taking a swig before handing it back.

Nearby, Geto and Nanami leaned against a tree, their voices low as they talked.

“Do you remember the last time we came through a stretch like this?” Geto asked, glancing up at the canopy of trees.

Nanami nodded. “Yeah. Quiet like this feels worse than noise sometimes.”

Geto hummed in agreement. “Easier to spot movement in the open, though. Less chance of surprises.”

“True,” Nanami said, adjusting his glasses. “But surprises don’t always come from the environment.”

Geto smirked faintly, catching the subtle jab. “You still mad about that time Gojo wandered off?”

“Mad?” Nanami’s tone was dry. “No. Prepared for him to do it again? Always.”

Their conversation drew a quiet chuckle from you, the easy camaraderie between the two a welcome distraction. It was moments like these that reminded you why the group worked so well together—they balanced each other out.

Meanwhile, Shoko sat cross-legged a few feet away, unwrapping a snack from her bag. Gojo’s attention immediately zeroed in on her food.

“Shoko,” he called sweetly, inching closer. “You wouldn’t happen to want to share that, would you?”

She didn’t even look up. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Gojo whined, reaching out as if to grab it.

Without hesitation, Shoko raised her hand and smacked his away. “Touch it, and you lose that hand.”

Gojo gasped theatrically, clutching his heart. “How could you be so cruel?”

“You have so much food in your bag,” Shoko deadpanned, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Had,” Gojo corrected, dramatically pointing at Sukuna. “Until he decided to lighten my load.”

Sukuna, who had been observing the exchange with mild amusement, crossed his arms. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead from exhaustion. You packed like the trip was going to take a month.”

The group erupted into quiet laughter, the tension lifting as the banter rippled through the clearing. Even Sukuna’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.

Shoko smirked, finally taking a bite of her snack. Then, with a small, unexpected gesture, she held it out to Gojo. “Here.”

Gojo’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “I knew you had a heart, Shoko!” He took a bite happily, earning an exasperated sigh from her.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she muttered, shaking her head, but there was a faint smile on her lips.

The lighthearted moment settled over the group, easing some of the tension from the day. For a fleeting second, it almost felt normal—like the world outside these woods wasn’t crumbling, like you were all just friends on a casual outing.

The day stretched on, the sun climbing higher into the sky, beating down on the cracked pavement and overgrown roads. The group moved in steady silence, speaking only when necessary. Sukuna’s presence beside you was a steady anchor—his movements deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, like a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

By the time the sun began to set, Nanami led the group to an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of what looked like a small, ruined town.

“This is as far as we go tonight,” Nanami said as he surveyed the area. “We’ll set up here, take turns on watch.”

Geto and Gojo took the lead, entering the gas station first to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long before they gave the all-clear, allowing the rest of the group to enter. The gas station was grimy and smelled faintly of mildew, but it was shelter—four walls, a roof, and a place to sleep that wasn’t exposed to the elements.

Sukuna himself would stand guard outside, taking first watch as always.

Inside, the group began settling in. Shoko found some makeshift blankets in the backroom, handing them out to whoever needed them, while Nanami quietly discussed the watch schedule with Geto. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but there was a subtle undertone of relief in having made it through another day.

You dropped your pack in a corner and set up a small space to sleep, but your thoughts remained on Sukuna. Even as the group moved about the room, settling into their makeshift beds, your focus lingered on the door. You couldn’t relax—not entirely—knowing Sukuna was out there, keeping watch alone.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the gas station had fallen silent, that you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Sukuna’s tall silhouette appeared at the doorway, the moonlight casting a faint glow on his face as he entered. His movements were quiet, deliberate, though the weariness in his frame was impossible to miss.

The moment you saw him, you didn’t hesitate. Sitting up from your spot, you reached for him, your voice soft as you beckoned him closer. “Come here.”

Without a word, Sukuna dropped down beside you, settling himself against the wall with a low, tired sigh. You didn’t give him a chance to protest or brush off his exhaustion. Instead, you immediately nestled into his side, tucking yourself gently against him.

“Get some rest,” you murmured, your voice tender as you rested your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Sukuna didn’t resist. His arm came up to wrap around you, pulling you closer as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers traced absent patterns against your arm, his sharp eyes flickering briefly toward the others to ensure everything was as it should be. Only then did he allow himself to relax.

The world outside was cruel and unpredictable, but here, wrapped in the quiet comfort of Sukuna’s warmth, it felt just a little safer. His presence grounded you, a reminder that no matter what the next day brought, you’d face it together.

For now, in this fleeting moment of peace, it was enough.

The group rose with the first light of dawn, the orange-pink hues of the sunrise spilling through the broken windows of the gas station. Nanami was already awake, his map spread out on the counter as he quietly calculated their next steps. Geto leaned over his shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, occasionally pointing out alternate routes. Shoko sat cross-legged on a worn-out chair, sipping something lukewarm from a tin cup, her med kit already packed and resting by her feet. Meanwhile, Gojo lounged nearby, fiddling with a piece of twine he’d found, trying (and failing) to fashion it into a slingshot, much to his own amusement.

Sukuna was the last to wake, but not on his own. You were still half-asleep yourself, head resting on his shoulder after a night of shared warmth. He hadn’t stirred once during the night, his even breathing a steady comfort against the chaos outside. As you blinked yourself awake, the golden light spilling into the room illuminated his face, softened by sleep in a way you rarely got to see.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, guilt settling in your chest. He had been carrying so much—keeping watch, leading, protecting. He needed the rest more than anyone. But the day was calling, and you knew the group couldn’t wait much longer.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and placed a gentle hand on his stomach, giving him a soft shake. “Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of the others. “It’s time to go.”

His brows furrowed slightly at first, his body instinctively resisting the pull of consciousness. But after a moment, his crimson eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a hazy focus. For a second, he didn’t say anything, just blinked at you as if grounding himself in the moment.

Then, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Alright.”

You offered him a soft smile, pulling back to give him space to sit up. He rolled his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair before rising to his feet with practiced ease. Around you, the rest of the group was already moving with purpose—packing, checking gear, and preparing for the day ahead. Sukuna, however, lingered a moment, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you again.

“Let’s get moving,” he said quietly, his tone steady but gentle as he reached for his pack. And with that, the day began, the group falling into rhythm once more under Sukuna’s watchful guidance.

By the time the sun fully crept over the horizon, the group was packed and moving again. The weight of the journey was palpable, and everyone was more focused as the hours stretched on. The empty highways gradually gave way to rural roads lined with skeletal trees and patches of wild grass, their uneven crunch underfoot the only consistent sound.

By midday, the group came across an abandoned farmhouse nestled at the edge of a sprawling field. The structure was mostly intact—shattered windows and weather-worn wood hinting at its age—but it was isolated and quiet, offering a moment of reprieve.

Geto and Gojo took the lead, sweeping the farmhouse to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long for them to give the all-clear, and the group filed in. Sukuna remained just outside, his sharp gaze sweeping over the horizon as he stood guard.

“This will do,” Nanami said, surveying the inside of the house. “We’ll rest here for now.”

Inside, everyone quickly settled into their tasks. Shoko rummaged through a dusty kitchen drawer, unearthing an old, rusted first-aid kit with a satisfied huff, while Gojo poked around the pantry in search of something edible.

You found yourself brushing cobwebs off the mantle of a fireplace, eyes flitting to the window every so often. Sukuna’s presence just beyond the porch felt like a tether, grounding you even as the day’s tension lingered in your chest.

Sukuna stepped inside shortly after, his heavy boots creaking against the old wooden floor. He walked straight to you, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “You’ve asked me that a lot today.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Can’t help it. You’ve got a knack for finding trouble.”

You scoffed, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’ll remind you I’ve saved your ass a few times now.”

Before Sukuna could respond, distant footsteps reached your ears, and the air in the room shifted. Instantly, everyone stilled, their movements halted as their senses sharpened. Sukuna’s hand instinctively went to his weapon, his crimson eyes narrowing as he exchanged a glance with Geto.

The group moved quickly, gathering near the front of the house with weapons drawn. The footsteps grew louder, and it wasn’t long before figures appeared on the horizon—four or five, their postures tense, weapons glinting faintly in the sunlight.

“Humans,” Geto murmured, his voice barely audible.

“That doesn’t mean friendly,” Nanami said, his jaw tight as he positioned himself near the door.

The figures stopped about twenty feet from the house, one of them stepping forward and raising a hand in what seemed to be a gesture of peace. “We don’t want trouble,” the man called out. “Just looking for supplies.”

“Keep moving,” Sukuna barked, stepping forward onto the porch. His voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

The man hesitated, glancing back at his group. “Look, we’re not here to—”

“Don’t take another step,” Sukuna cut him off, his weapon glinting in the faint light as he raised it slightly. “I’m not saying it again.”

The tension in the air was electric, every muscle in your body coiled as the strangers deliberated. Finally, after a long pause, the man nodded. “Alright. We’re leaving.”

The group of strangers retreated, their movements stiff and reluctant, but they didn’t look back. Sukuna stayed on the porch, watching them until they disappeared completely from sight. Only then did he lower his weapon and step back inside.

You were waiting for him, your arms crossed but your expression soft. “You didn’t have to be so scary, you know.”

Sukuna shot you a look, his crimson eyes still blazing. “You think I’m going to take chances? Especially with you around?”

Your breath caught at the quiet intensity in his words. He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours, and you felt the weight of his protectiveness settle between you.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice quieter now. “I’m not losing you.”

The raw vulnerability in his tone made your chest tighten, and you reached out, slipping your hand into his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, you replied, “You’re not losing me. Not now, not ever.”

His grip tightened briefly before he nodded, releasing a small, relieved exhale. “Let’s secure this place,” he said, his voice gruff but softer now.

As you followed him through the farmhouse, the tension from earlier began to fade. Sukuna’s steady presence at your side reminded you that, no matter what this world threw at you, you wouldn’t face it alone.

As night fell, the group gathered in the living room around a small fire crackling in the fireplace. Its warm glow danced on the walls, softening the room’s grim edges. Gojo, never one to let a heavy mood linger, leaned back against the wall with his usual smug grin.

“Well,” he began, flicking a glance at Sukuna, “I’d say we handled that pretty well. Didn’t even need to waste any ammo. Nice job, boss.” He gave an exaggerated wink, clearly fishing for a reaction.

Sukuna ignored him entirely, his crimson eyes fixed on the fire, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch where you sat perched. His body angled slightly toward you, his presence steady and grounding.

Shoko rolled her eyes but smirked faintly as she leaned back against the wall. “Let’s just hope they don’t come back with reinforcements.”

“They won’t,” Sukuna stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The finality of his words seemed to settle the matter.

Nanami, seated at the far end of the room, was hunched over the map, his brow furrowed in thought. Geto stood beside him, gesturing to something on the paper. Their low murmurs filled the lulls in conversation as they discussed potential routes and what lay ahead.

“Tomorrow’s another early start,” Nanami announced eventually, his sharp gaze lifting to sweep over the group. “The farmhouse is a good stop, but it’s too exposed. We’ll need to move at first light.”

There were murmurs of agreement, but the tension began to ease as the conversation shifted.

Geto launched into an outrageous story about a prank war between all of them during their college days. The schemes were both elaborate and ridiculous: Shoko’s chair was saran-wrapped until she couldn’t use it, Nanami’s carefully organized notes were swapped out for pages covered in absurd doodles, and Sukuna’s jacket had been rigged to release an explosion of glitter when he grabbed it, leaving him fuming as everyone else howled with laughter.

Shoko’s revenge was methodical, hiding alarm clocks throughout their dorm to blare at odd hours, while Nanami’s retaliation was subtle yet sharp—he salted Gojo’s coffee just before an important presentation, leaving Gojo spluttering in front of the class. Even Sukuna had joined in, stuffing Shoko’s favorite pastries with wasabi, prompting days of silent glares and thinly veiled threats.

The prank war culminated in chaos when Gojo and Geto teamed up to flip Sukuna’s entire dorm room upside down, duct-taping the furniture to the ceiling in a masterpiece that left the rest of the group cackling while Sukuna plotted revenge.

Gojo was now sprawled out on the floor, laughing so hard he was nearly gasping for air, his hand slapping the ground in a steady rhythm. Shoko, her head tilted back against the wall, groaned dramatically, clearly remembering the chaos of those days, but the faint, amused smirk on her face betrayed her fondness for the memories. Nanami let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head as he thought back to the sheer absurdity of being caught in the crossfire so many times, his ever-composed demeanor no match for the group’s relentless antics.

The laughter was infectious, spreading through the room like wildfire. Sukuna, usually composed and stoic, let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his sharp features softening as his hand briefly covered his face in an attempt to smother the sound. It was so unexpected, so unguarded, that you couldn’t help but laugh even harder, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Without thinking, you leaned into Sukuna, seeking the comfort of his solid presence. His arm slipped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as though it were second nature. The heat of the fire and the gentle weight of his arm wrapped around you created a cocoon of warmth that made the outside world feel like a distant memory.

As the laughter began to fade and the fire’s crackles filled the quiet room, Sukuna’s hold on you didn’t waver. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm, a subconscious gesture that spoke of comfort and connection. You tilted your head slightly, catching the last remnants of his rare smile before his features returned to their usual sharp focus.

Eventually, the fire burned low, and the group began to settle down for the night. Blankets and makeshift beds were laid out across the living room and adjoining rooms, everyone finding their place to rest. You grabbed a blanket of your own, your eyes scanning the room before slipping upstairs to check for anything salvageable.

In one of the smaller bedrooms, you found it—a dusty but intact bedframe with a mattress. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Smiling to yourself, you headed back downstairs.

You approached Sukuna, who was still seated on the couch, watching the group with his usual keen intensity. Gently, you touched his arm to catch his attention.

“Come with me,” you said softly, motioning toward the stairs.

He raised a brow but followed without a word, his broad frame silent as he ascended behind you. When you led him into the small room and gestured toward the bed, his expression shifted from curiosity to something almost incredulous.

“What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with confusion.

You smiled, nudging him toward the bed. “You deserve a bed. It’s not much, but it’s better than the floor.”

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze flicked to the bed, and he huffed a quiet breath, the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You shrugged, your grin widening as you moved to drape the blanket over the mattress. “Maybe.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work. There was something softer in his expression now—an almost reluctant gratitude that he didn’t voice, but you could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed.

When you finished, you turned back to him and patted the edge of the bed. “Go on. You need rest more than anyone.”

He rolled his eyes but stepped forward, sitting heavily on the mattress. The bed creaked faintly under his weight, but it held firm. With a quiet sigh, Sukuna leaned back, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying too.”

It wasn’t a question, and you didn’t argue. Instead, you climbed onto the bed beside him, settling under the blanket as he lay back with one arm behind his head. The bed was small, and the proximity sent a soft warmth blooming in your chest.

For a while, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, the faint creaks of the old house and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds. Then Sukuna turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours in the dim light.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You deserve the bed more than me.”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Someone has to look out for you too.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across his features. Without a word, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The tender gesture made your chest ache in the best way.

“I don’t think I say it enough,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was laying down armor he rarely took off. “But you mean a lot to me.”

Your chest swelled with warmth, and a soft, happy laugh escaped your lips as you tilted closer. “You’ve been saying it in your own way,” you whispered, your nose brushing against his. “But I don’t mind hearing it out loud.”

His mouth curved into a faint, lopsided smirk, but the look in his eyes was nothing but earnest. “I guess I could get used to saying it,” he muttered, his tone softer now, almost teasing.

You grinned, your hand resting lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Good,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

Sukuna didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed you—a slow, deliberate kiss that felt like both a promise and a confession. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your chest tighten in the best way.

As you settled into the circle of his arms, his hand resting securely on your waist, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a peaceful calm. With Sukuna’s quiet strength wrapped around you, the world outside felt just a little less daunting.

The group was already gathered in the living room, their gear stacked neatly by the door. The air was tense but focused, each person making final checks on their supplies. Shoko adjusted the strap on her med bag with practiced ease, while Geto leaned over the map spread out on the table, marking alternate routes and murmuring quietly with Nanami about possible contingencies.

As you and Sukuna entered, Shoko glanced up, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush of sleep still on your face. Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small piece of bread, handing it to you with a casual smirk before tossing another to Sukuna.

“You’re both going to need the energy,” she said simply, her tone as dry as ever but her gesture undeniably thoughtful.

“Thanks,” you murmured, smiling softly as you accepted the bread. Sukuna caught his piece easily, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment before taking a bite.

Nanami’s voice cut through the quiet hum of activity, bringing everyone to attention. “We need to move soon. The longer we wait, the harder this will be.”

The room stilled as Sukuna stepped forward, his commanding presence effortlessly drawing every gaze. His crimson eyes swept over the group, sharp and calculating. “You know the drill. We stick together—no splitting up unless it’s absolutely necessary. If we run into trouble, we fall back and regroup. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, the gravity of his words settling over the room. Shoko slung her med bag over her shoulder, and Geto folded the map with a decisive motion, tucking it into his pack.

“Let’s move,” Sukuna ordered, opening the door and stepping into the cool morning air. The sky was a pale wash of orange and blue, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. The crisp breeze carried a faint hint of dew and wild grass, a sharp contrast to the weight of the journey ahead.

The group moved in a tight formation, the familiar walls of the farmhouse fading behind you as the path stretched out into uneven terrain. The silence between everyone was broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional quiet murmur of conversation. Sukuna walked slightly ahead of you, his broad frame cutting a steady, reassuring figure against the morning light.

As the hours passed, the sun climbed higher, its warmth pressing down on the group as the path grew more overgrown with weeds and debris. Sukuna glanced over his shoulder every so often, his crimson eyes scanning for threats but always flicking briefly to you as if to make sure you were still close.

When the sun was high in the sky, he raised a hand, signaling a stop. “Break,” he said firmly, his voice carrying over the group. Everyone eased onto whatever flat surface they could find—tree stumps, boulders, patches of grass—and began sipping water and pulling out small rations.

Sukuna settled next to you, his knees brushing yours as he leaned back on his hands. His gaze lingered on you, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “You’re quiet today,” he remarked, his voice low and almost tentative.

You glanced at him, offering a small smile. “Just thinking. About what we’re leaving behind, and what’s ahead.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worried?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “A little. It’s just… hard not knowing what we’ll find.”

His expression softened further, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his stoic exterior. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his voice steady and sure. “Together.”

The simplicity of his words, paired with the quiet strength in his tone, settled something in you. You leaned a little closer, letting your shoulder brush his as you whispered, “Thank you.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, but his presence remained a steady reassurance. When the break ended, he rose first, offering you a hand to help you up. The small gesture was unspoken but full of meaning, like so much of what he did.

As the group moved out again, you found yourself walking just a little closer to him, the weight of the journey ahead feeling a little lighter with his steady presence by your side.

As the group trudged along the overgrown road, Sukuna raised his hand in a silent command to stop. His deep voice cut through the quiet, steady and authoritative. “Five-minute break. Stay alert.”

Grateful for the pause, everyone settled into their own routines. Nanami leaned against a tree, unfurling the map to study the route ahead. Geto wandered a little further off, scouting the surroundings with a practiced eye. Shoko sat on a large rock, rummaging through her med kit and muttering to herself as she reorganized supplies. Meanwhile, Gojo flopped dramatically onto the ground, munching on a pilfered apple, his expression one of exaggerated exhaustion.

You dropped your pack with a relieved huff, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension. The weight had been nagging at you for the last stretch of the journey. Sukuna’s sharp eyes caught the movement immediately, and he crossed the short distance between you in a few long strides. Without a word, he stepped behind you and placed his hands firmly on your shoulders, his touch both surprising and steady.

“What are you—oh,” you started, but the words melted away as his thumbs pressed into the sore muscles at the base of your neck.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he worked at the tension in your shoulders. “You’re all knotted up. You’re gonna hurt yourself carrying all that weight.”

The relief was instant, and though you felt your cheeks flush, you couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped you. His hands were rough but careful, the perfect combination of firm and gentle. “I’m fine, really,” you said, though your voice betrayed how much you were enjoying it.

“Sure you are,” he replied dryly. “Fine enough to wince every time you move. You’re not hiding it very well, y’know.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The truth was, it felt too good to tell him to stop. His hands moved expertly over your shoulders and down to your upper back, kneading away the tension like he’d done it a hundred times before. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief, which earned a quiet chuckle from him.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Sukuna teased, his tone lighter but still warm.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, glancing back at him. “You’re good at this.”

“Used to help my brother with this stuff,” he said casually, his hands never faltering. “He’d push himself too hard sometimes. Guess I got good at noticing when someone needs a break.”

The mention of his brother softened you, and you turned your head slightly to look at him more closely. His expression was calm, focused on what he was doing, but there was a tenderness in his touch that made your chest ache in the best way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, his eyes flicking down to yours. “Just don’t be stubborn about it next time.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no heat behind it. “You’re the one being stubborn right now.”

He grinned faintly. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s gonna be complaining tomorrow if I don’t fix this now.”

When he finally stepped back, you felt the loss of his warmth almost immediately. But then, Sukuna crouched down beside your pack, his hands already undoing the straps. “Let’s see what’s making this so damn heavy,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a look that clearly said he wasn’t asking.

He pulled out a sweatshirt first, shaking his head. “You don’t need this.”

Next, a gardening book. “Or this.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he worked with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Then, he paused, holding up a small deck of playing cards. His crimson eyes flicked to yours, one brow arching in disbelief. You recognized it instantly as the deck he’d confiscated from Gojo’s overstuffed bag before the trip.

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone hovering between incredulity and teasing.

You winced, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Gojo’s good at convincing,” you admitted.

Sukuna snorted, shaking his head as he slipped the cards into the pile of discarded items. “You’ve been spending too much time with him. He’s rubbing off on you.”

“You’re just mad he beat you at cards last week,” you teased, unable to resist.

His eyes narrowed playfully, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you carry his bag next time.”

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as his teasing melted into something warmer, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer. Then he stepped back, picking up your pack with ease.

“I’ll carry this for a bit,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sukuna, I can—”

“No arguments,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re no good to me if you’re falling behind because of a sore shoulder.”

You sighed, though the smile on your face betrayed how much his care meant to you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re lucky I’m nice,” he quipped, his smirk turning playful as he gestured for the group to start moving again.

As you fell into step beside him, his steady presence made the long road ahead feel just a little easier to face. Moments like this reminded you that even in the chaos, there were still moments of warmth, humor, and quiet care worth holding onto.

The night was a shroud of darkness, the faint light of the crescent moon barely piercing the dense canopy above. The group moved cautiously along the narrow forest path, the distant rustle of leaves and eerie stillness pressing on your senses like a vice. Every step felt like a gamble, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

Then, a distant but unmistakable sound shattered the stillness—a guttural moan carried by the wind, followed by the crunch of twigs snapping underfoot. It was faint at first, almost like a trick of the mind, but as it grew louder, there was no mistaking what it was.

Your pulse spiked. Ahead, Sukuna’s posture stiffened, his head snapping toward the sound. The groans multiplied, joined by the sickening squelch of feet dragging through the underbrush. The horde wasn’t just nearby—they were closing in.

Before anyone could react, they appeared. Shadows surged from the trees, pale, rotting faces catching the faint moonlight as their guttural snarls grew louder. Zombies. Dozens of them.

The group sprang into action, weapons drawn with the efficiency of survival instincts honed over months of living on the edge. You unsheathed your knife, your heart pounding as you fell into position beside Sukuna.

The undead swarmed like a wave, their twisted hands clawing at the air. Sukuna didn’t hesitate, his blade slashing through the nearest zombie with precision and power. Beside him, you dodged a lunging creature, your knife plunging into its temple with a sickening crunch.

Geto’s crowbar swung in a brutal arc, caving in the skull of a zombie while Gojo’s machete carved through the air with deadly speed. Shoko and Nanami worked seamlessly, clearing a path as they fought back-to-back.

But the numbers were overwhelming. For every zombie that fell, another seemed to emerge from the shadows, their grotesque forms relentless in their pursuit.

You barely had time to breathe as you sidestepped another attacker, its rancid breath brushing your face before you drove your knife upward into its jaw. The creature collapsed, but the sound of groaning and snapping branches told you there were more coming.

“They’re everywhere!” Shoko yelled, her voice strained as she swung her blade at an advancing zombie.

Nanami glanced around, his movements calculated as he crushed another skull. “We need to split—regroup later! We can’t hold them here!”

“No!” Sukuna snarled, his voice sharp as his knife slashed through another undead. “We stay together!”

“They’ll overrun us!” Nanami countered, his tone resolute even as his weapon struck another foe. “We regroup in two hours—this is the only chance!”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes flicked to you for a split second, hesitation flashing across his face before he relented. “Fine! Two hours, back here!”

The group split in a blur of motion, each pair darting in a different direction through the trees. Gojo and Geto broke off down one path, their movements fluid and efficient as they covered each other. Nanami grabbed Shoko’s arm, pulling her in the opposite direction as they vanished into the trees.

You barely had time to react before Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip strong and unwavering as he pulled you forward. “Stay with me,” he growled, his voice low and urgent.

The two of you bolted into the forest, the snarls and groans of the undead growing louder behind you. Branches whipped at your face and arms, but you didn’t dare slow down. Sukuna’s hand was your lifeline, anchoring you as the world descended into chaos.

“Don’t fall behind,” he said, his tone sharp but protective.

“I’m not planning to!” you shot back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you kept pace with him.

The forest seemed endless, each step a fight against the relentless pursuit of the horde. The stench of decay clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You could hear the zombies crashing through the underbrush, their grotesque snarls echoing around you.

Sukuna pulled you sharply to the right, ducking under a low-hanging branch as he led you into a dense thicket. “Here!” he hissed, crouching behind a fallen tree and pulling you down beside him.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your knife still gripped tightly in your hand. Sukuna peered over the edge of the log, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. The groans of the undead grew louder, the shadows shifting as the horde moved closer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Sukuna’s hand tightened around yours, his grip grounding you as the creatures came into view.

He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “We’ll move when they pass. Stay quiet.”

You nodded, your pulse racing as you tried to steady your breathing. The zombies stumbled past, their rotting forms just feet away. The smell was overwhelming, and you fought the urge to gag as one of them paused, its hollow eyes scanning the area.

After a few tense moments, Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly, though his crimson eyes still flicked to the shadows. He turned to you, the tight line of his jaw easing only as his gaze found yours.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but unshakable, a thin thread of worry laced beneath the surface.

You nodded, though your chest heaved from the adrenaline still surging through your veins. “Yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but the smear of blood streaking across his cheek and the jagged tear in his sleeve betrayed his words.

Your gaze dropped to the shallow cut on his arm. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing your fingers gently against it. “You’re hurt,” you said, your voice soft, concern cracking through your composure.

“It’s nothing,” Sukuna replied, his tone softening at the look in your eyes. But before he could reassure you further, the air around you changed.

The faint rustle of leaves exploded into chaos as snarls and guttural growls pierced the night. Heavy footsteps tore through the underbrush, and the trees seemed to shift and tremble as two zombies burst into view, their grotesque forms lurching toward you like predators zeroing in on prey.

Sukuna’s expression darkened, and he grabbed your arm, jerking you behind him as the first zombie lunged. His blade flashed in the moonlight, cutting through the creature’s skull with a sickening crunch. Without missing a beat, he spun, driving his boot into the chest of the second, shoving it back against a tree. But instead of crumpling, the creature let out a guttural snarl and surged forward with surprising strength. Sukuna’s blade came up just in time to block its clawed hand, the force of the strike reverberating up his arm. He shoved it back with a growl, stepping into its space and aiming a slash at its throat, but the zombie twisted unnaturally, avoiding the blow and slashing back with sharp, decayed claws.

The faint rustle of leaves had barely begun to settle when a third zombie appeared, bursting from the shadows like a predator springing its trap. It was on you before you even realized it, its grotesque form moving with an unnatural speed. The sheer force of its charge slammed into you, knocking you off your feet and driving you into the cold, hard ground.

The world spun as you landed with a bone-jarring impact, the breath punched from your lungs. Before you could even process what had happened, the zombie was on you, its decayed face inches away, snarling and snapping its jagged teeth like a rabid animal. Instinct took over, and your arms shot up, locking against its shoulders as you strained to hold it back.

The weight of its body bore down on you like a crushing tide. Its claws raked at your arms, shredding fabric and skin alike as it fought to overpower you. Pain flared hot and sharp, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins pushed it to the back of your mind.

Your mind raced, panic clawing at every nerve as you tried to push it away. The knife—it had been in your hand. Where was it now?

Your eyes darted wildly, searching the dim forest floor. There—it lay just a few feet away, glinting faintly in the moonlight. Desperation flared in your chest, and you shifted one arm to reach for it, your fingers trembling as they scraped against the dirt.

Panic clawed at you as the zombie snarled again, its grotesque face lunging closer. Its teeth snapped wildly, its hot, fetid breath washing over your face, shoulders, and neck. Every inch of you screamed in terror, but you shoved back against its shoulders with all your strength, your muscles trembling under the strain.

The zombie's teeth snapped closer, so close you could feel the heat of its breath against your skin. Its claws dug deeper into your arms, ripping at your flesh as it pushed harder, forcing your back to arch painfully against the ground.

Your fingertips brushed the hilt of the knife, but it wasn’t enough. The zombie snarled louder, the sound drowning out your frantic gasps.

“Sukuna!” you screamed, the raw, desperate cry tearing from your throat.

“I’m coming!” his voice roared from somewhere in the chaos, but the zombie’s weight bore down on you, blocking out everything else.

Terror surged through you as the creature’s jagged teeth lunged toward your shoulder. With a final, desperate push, your hand closed around the hilt of the knife.

Adrenaline exploded through your veins as you swung upward with everything you had. The blade plunged beneath the zombie’s jaw, slicing through decayed flesh and bone, the impact reverberating up your arm.

The zombie convulsed, its body jerking violently before going still. Dead weight collapsed on top of you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare into the sky, gasping for air as your trembling hands released the knife.

The world blurred as you gasped for air, your chest heaving. The stars above seemed to spin, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at the sky. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, so loud it drowned out everything else.

Am I even alive?

Before the thought could settle, the crushing weight was ripped away. Sukuna’s hands gripped your shoulders, and in one swift motion, he pulled you to your feet. The sheer force of his movements sent a jolt through your body, grounding you in the present.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and fear, his crimson eyes raking over you like he was afraid to find the answer.

You swayed slightly, your legs shaky beneath you, and his hands steadied you, his grip firm but not harsh.

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, dazed. Then you felt it—warm, wet, wrong.

Both of you froze, the world narrowing to the crimson stain blooming across your shoulder. Sukuna’s grip slackened, his hands trembling as his sharp, commanding gaze faltered. For the first time, the indomitable Sukuna looked powerless.

“No.” The denial came in a fractured whisper, as if spoken louder, it might shatter him entirely.

Your own hands trembled as you pressed them to the wound, your fingers slick with blood. The air caught in your throat as the weight of realization dawned. “Sukuna… I—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off, his voice biting yet unsteady. His crimson eyes darted to the wound, refusing to believe what he saw. “Just a scratch.”

“But what if it’s not?” you choked, tears slipping free as fear surged through you. “It only takes a minute, Sukuna—”

“Stop.” His hands latched onto your waist, his grip hard, desperate. “Don’t. Say. That.”

“You know it’s true.” Your voice cracked, splintering as the unspeakable hung between you like a death sentence.

“It’s been seconds!” he barked, shaking you slightly, his breath coming fast. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

You shook your head, the pulse in your ears drowning out everything but the countdown hammering in your mind. “You have to do it.”

His face went pale, his jaw locking. “What?”

“You have to kill me, Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice broken, pleading. “Before it’s too late.”

“No.” His denial came quick and brutal, a guttural snarl ripped from his chest. “Don’t you dare ask me for that.”

“Sukuna—”

“You won’t turn!” he shouted, his fury barely masking the crack of desperation in his voice. “It’s a cut. A goddamn cut!”

“But we don’t know!” you cried, your voice rising into a frantic pitch. “It only takes sixty seconds, and that thing—it was snapping at me! Its teeth were so close—”

“Stop!” he roared, his voice shattering the night air. “It didn’t bite you!”

“Twenty seconds,” you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle. Panic clawed at you, its icy grip closing around your throat.

His hands fell to his sides, curling into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. His whole body shook as he struggled against the inevitability.

“Shut up!” His voice cracked, trembling with anguish. “You’re not—”

“Please!” you screamed, tears streaming freely now. “Sukuna, you have to save yourself! You have to do it! Please!”

“I CAN’T!” His voice erupted, a guttural cry of despair, raw and agonized. His entire body trembled as his hands reached for your face. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and erratic. “You don’t get to ask me this,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I can’t—I can’t do it.”

“Thirty seconds.” The countdown fell like a hammer, each tick an agonizing reminder of what was slipping away.

Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—I don’t want to hurt you, Sukuna. I can’t… I can’t turn into one of them.”

“I’m begging you,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on every syllable. “Please… don’t let me turn into of them.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled.

“Forty seconds,” you sobbed, clinging to him, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the world. “Sukuna, please.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled. For a moment, it seemed like he might hold on forever, refusing to let go.

His jaw tightened, his teeth gritting audibly as his hands fell away from your face. His body rigid as he turned his back to you. His shoulders trembled with the weight of his emotions, his breaths sharp and uneven.

“Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—”

He didn’t respond, his hand dragging through his hair as he paced a few steps forward. His movements were erratic, torn between rage and despair. When he finally stopped, his head dropped forward, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white. The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, slowly, he reached for the gun at his hip.

Your heart raced faster as he turned back toward you, the weapon in his shaking hands. He raised it, the barrel glinting in the faint light as it pointed directly at you. His crimson eyes burned with anguish, his expression twisted in a way you had never seen before—raw, broken, and utterly lost.

“Sukuna,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision as you looked at him.

His hand trembled, the gun quivering in his grip. His jaw worked, but no words came, just the silent agony etched into every line of his face. You could see it—the war raging inside him, the impossible decision tearing him apart.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice breaking.

His crimson eyes burned into yours, filled with anguish, rage, and something utterly broken. “Don’t make me do this,” he rasped, his voice low, raw, and trembling with emotion.

“Fifty seconds,” you whispered, your voice cracking as desperation took hold. Tears blurred your vision, but you held his gaze, silently pleading. “Please, Sukuna.”

The gun in his hands quaked, the barrel dipping before he forced it back up, his entire frame trembling under the weight of the decision. His finger hovered over the trigger, paralyzed, as his breaths turned shallow and uneven. His face twisted, the confidence you always saw in him splintering into fear and despair.

“Sixty seconds.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Everything froze—the wind, the trees, the very earth beneath you—as if the world itself was bracing for what would come next.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Your head snapped down to your shoulder, your hands clawing at the blood-soaked fabric as panic gave way to disbelief. Your trembling fingers probed the wound, and relief slammed into you like a tidal wave.

“It’s…” Your voice cracked, tears streaming down your face as a sob bubbled up from your chest. “I think it’s just a cut. Sukuna—it’s just a cut.”

His crimson eyes widened in stunned disbelief. The gun slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull, final thud. His body gave out entirely, knees slamming into the dirt as his hands flew to his face. A guttural, broken sob ripped from his throat, raw and agonized, his shoulders shaking violently.

“Sukuna!” you cried, collapsing in front of him. Your hands, trembling with adrenaline and relief, cupped his face, pulling it away from his shaking palms. “I’m okay! Do you hear me? I’m okay! Look at me!”

His red-rimmed eyes met yours, hollow and haunted, like a man who had stared into the void and barely clawed his way back. “You can’t…” His voice broke, barely audible, a plea wrapped in heartbreak. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you said, fierce and unyielding despite the tears that streamed down your face. Your forehead pressed to his as you whispered again, “I swear to you—I’m not leaving you.”

His arms shot out, wrapping around you with a desperation that made your breath hitch. He crushed you to him, burying his face in your neck as his body convulsed with shuddering breaths. His hold was fierce, as if he feared you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words escaping him like a prayer. They were broken, raw, and vulnerable, trembling in the quiet air. “I love you so much. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught, your heart breaking as you cupped his face again, pulling him back to meet your eyes. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “I’m here. I swear, I’m here.”

His hands cradled your face now, his touch reverent as though he needed to feel you to believe you were still there. “I thought…” His voice cracked, his jaw trembling as he choked on the words. “I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” you whispered, your own voice breaking. “Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence between you heavy with unspoken promises. Then Sukuna’s lips brushed your temple, soft and trembling, a wordless thank you for still being there.

And in that moment, the world outside could burn, the apocalypse could rage—but in his arms, with his heartbeat pounding against yours, you knew you’d fight through hell to stay together. Two hearts, still beating—alive.

part three coming soon!

taglist: @mangiswig @glads-stuff @merv123 @pinkpookiebear @pookalicious-hq @anything4yoongi @perqbeth @ssetsuka @eggingamazinglove @sylussss7

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #💿 — solace seven works

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