#let’s stop saying strong female characters can’t be taken care of by their partner

[lilislegacy]

In all these instances, Annabeth is going through a terribly stressful situation, and she’s not afraid to admit that she wants Percy to hold her. The only time Annabeth lets herself be truly vulnerable, and feels truly safe, is when she is in Percy’s arms.

She craves to be held by him. And that doesn’t mean she’s weak, or that he’s stronger than her, or that she relies on him to take care of her. It just means that for the first time in her life, she has a pair of arms to collapse into when she’s scared or upset. And yes, she absolutely does the same for Percy and takes care of him too, but it’s slightly different. Percy has always had his mom to love him and take care of him and hold him. Annabeth, however, had to put walls up at a young age. She learned to never rely on anybody else for safety or comfort, because she never consistently had someone loving her or taking care of her.

But now that she has that, it’s not a surprise that she yearns for his affection. Annabeth is touch-starved in a way that Percy isn’t. And she never feels more loved or more safe than she does when he is holding her. And I don’t know about you guys, but I am so happy that she has that now. Annabeth Chase is a warm, sensitive, and emotional character. And when those parts of her shine through, I think it makes her one of the most realistic characters.

For some reason, I feel like people think that Annabeth, and other female characters, have to be cold and insensitive in order to be strong. But I think that couldn’t be further from the truth! Allowing yourself to be vulnerable takes the utmost strength. Love and trust, and having someone by your side, makes people stronger, not weaker. I personally love that Annabeth lets herself be loved and comforted by her partner. Because she can be “the little spoon” and still be completely his equal. Wanting to be held and taken care of does not make someone lesser or weaker. It makes them human. (And it goes the same with men and all genders). It makes Annabeth one of the most relatable and realistic people in the series, and I love that Rick shows that side of her.

Annabeth Chase is a remarkably strong, fierce, legendary female warrior. She also craves to be held by her loving boyfriend. And those are not conflicting statements.

[moonofiron]

I have been thinking about Gintoki since quite a while and the conclusion I have reached is that the goofier a man, the more intimate he can get.

Here's something I've never tried before. It starts with my perception of Gintoki's kinks and collapses into a narrative about how a particular kink will play out when he's with his female SO.

(I think what I have done here is called an "HC" but I am not sure. All HCs I've read are in bullet points and this is... not in bullet points. So idk... I'm just out here tryna get this fucking concept OFF MY CHEST.)

Anime: Gintama

Characters: Sakata Gintoki x whoever you imagine his female SO to be!

Genre: Smut, explicit sexual content, kinks 🥵

Rating: M

Synopsis: Gintoki melts at the sight of her in a plain white t-shirt and panties

Word Count: 2,386

Minors, click here.

I think, above all, Gintoki has a MASSIVE kink for going bareback. But it manifests itself a little differently for him. Internally, he absolutely refuses to cum anywhere else. But he's also super conscious of his partner's needs and will cum anywhere his babe wants him to. It delights him that she's so eager. Even though it leaves him feeling a little unsatisfied, it's not a big deal because he feels so strongly for her. He does love cumming deep in the back of his partner's throat because it feels so similar to what he thinks it would feel like cumming inside her.

It's a tricky kink to work with because under his lazy-bum facade, he actually has a super strong sense of responsibility. This is also why he refuses to have casual sex with just anyone. He's the kind who has a deeply intimate, committed, and long-term relationship with his partner.

His "kink" is a completely unsaid thing though. He will never explicitly talk about it. He loves dirty talk (anything goes, really) but this is one thing he will not say out loud. So, essentially, his partner will never hear him say stuff like "let daddy fill you up/I'm gonna cum inside you/ Daddy's gonna fill up that tight, pretty cunt".

No, he's not shy. Nor is he a prude. He's just a sucker for the quietness around the act of him filling up his partner. He digs the submission of a woman just taking him in fully, without making it into a "kink" or reducing the act to something they both occasionally get off on. He wants his woman to treat it as routine, ordinary, and natural. Almost like aftercare. Nobody says out loud that they want to be taken care of after a rough fuck. It's expected and unsaid. The unsaid but sure nature of filling up his partner is what makes it unbearably initmate for him.

He absolutely can not control the pleasure of being nestled inside her in his most tender, vulnerable, yet powerful moments. He breaks and lights up at the same damn time. His focus is sharp and only on the way her body reacts, not the words they share. He stares intently and deeply into her eyes when he cums inside her, making her flinch at the intensity he is capable of. It is in these moments she fully grasps what he means when he says he owns her.

If his partner does mention him cumming inside her, (eg: I want you to cum inside me/ fill me up Daddy) he will grind his teeth and cover her mouth instantly and harshly, maybe put a couple of fingers in her mouth so she can't speak. If he says something, it'll be along the lines of, "Just shut up and take it," as he thrusts harder and deeper.

He will twitch inside his partner, grow slightly bigger, and cum sooner than usual. Subtle but controlled cues like his grip on her hair getting harder will let her know that this is actually something he really digs.

The first few times his partner and he get down and dirty, he will do anything to please her and in turn, himself. He'll lazily make her sit on his face in the mornings, finger her a lot (anywhere, anytime), make her fool around with toys for him, ask her to rub herself while he stares intently and licks his lips, and let her suck his cock. He'll fuck her when he wants but it'll always be with a condom. He'll let her ride the brains out of him, too. But, always with a condom.

When he absolutely can not take it any longer (say, about 4 months into a relationship), he will break. He will break at the sight of her in plain white panties and a white t-shirt, doing her own thing.

He'll be sitting on his chair, behind the desk. He'll clear his throat to grab her attention. He'll beckon her with his thick finger and she'll think it's going to be their usual fucking and loving. She'll bite her lips and exaggerate the sway in her hips as she walks towards him. The performative nature of the sensual way she walks towards him will make her breathe slightly heavily and the first few baby spots of wetness will bloom in the crotch of her panties.

When she finally reaches him, a smirk will be playing on his lips and his eyes will look sleepy at first. He'll hold her waist lightly and look up at her. She'll look down at him, smiling, a coy finger in her mouth and her other hand on his shoulder.

She'll notice a difference in the way he handles her. She'll notice that he's looking at her with such greed that it's making her falter. She'll sense something is off and ask if everything is ok.

"Hmm," he'll say in a deep voice against her stomach.

He'll slowly turn her around and make her sit on his lap. She'll turn back to look at him wide eyed and smiling shyly. It usually takes a solid 12 minutes of kissing, biting, and frantic touching to get him this hard. She'll still be a little taken aback by Gintoki's seriousness. He's usually goofy and playful or an outright sadistic and sexy beast.

He'll open up his zipper and its cool metal will make her squirm. His warm and fat cock will spring out and she'll feel its sweaty stickiness against her lower back. She'll gasp at and throb for his unusual, unprovoked arousal and quickly reach for his desk-drawer where he stashes all the condoms. She'll take one out and start to open up the wrapper only to have Gintoki take the half-opened condom from her delicate hands in between his teeth and spit it out far into the corner of the room; his hands will never leave her waist.

Her eyes will widen again and she'll start to say something but Gintoki will tilt his head and give her a look that'll make her shiver and shut up. A mix of fear and anticipation will make her stomach drop. She'll be dripping by now and surprised at how less it takes for her to be utterly slick and ready for him.

She'll find it unbearably intimidating to look him in the eye and will turn her head, only the find herself reflected back at her in the mirror next to them. Her nipples will be hard through her t-shirt, her naked legs will be between Gintoki's clothed ones.

Gintoki will use just one of his fingers to slide her white panties to the side and position the tip of his cock at her wetness.

He'll slowly breathe into her ear "I'm going to fuck you raw and deep..."

He'll wait just a moment for her reaction before saying, "or not at all."

He'll put his hand around her chin and make her turn her head to look at him.

“And, you will stay shut about it the entire time, yeah?"

She'll nod her head ever so slightly with parted lips and then bite her lip nervously and unconsciously. She'll have already started moving against the tip of his cock, making it completely slick with her wetness. Her clit will be throbbing in an anticipation she has never felt with Gintoki.

Without another word, he'll thrust himself inside of her in one long and quick motion. A silk moan will escape her mouth; she's never actually felt his warmth inside of her.

He'll fuck her painfully slow; she'll feel his girth stretch her out inch by inch. The sloppy and messy sound of the base of his cock rubbing against her clit after every stroke will be loud and clear in the afternoon quiet; it won't be covered by the usual frantic slapping of his balls against her clit. He'll be holding on to her waist so she doesn't try to move and change the rhythm or speed.

“Do you feel it?”

"Yea.." she'll moan.

“Do you like what you hear?”

“uhum..” is all she'll manage to say. She usually has no issues keeping up with conversations and dirty talk but she'll find it extremely hard to keep up with this particular conversation.

"Let me look at you pinching your nipples."

She'll catch him looking at her in the mirror and will immediately get to work.

"Harder. Don't cheat."

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good girl."

She'll falter at this and her legs will buckle. She'll feel Gintoki's hands hold her as he'll get up from the chair. He'll sit on the floor right in front of the mirror, still buried deep inside of her.

He'll snake his hand around to her clit and rub her agonizingly slowly, all the while fucking her with slow and deep thrusts. His other hand will be on top of her hands cupping her breasts. Her head will be thrown back on his shoulder and her waist and hips will match Gintoki's movements and rhythm. Everytime she'll be about to cum, he'll kiss and nibble at her jaw and stop rubbing her clit, edging her for hours on that day.

They'll eventually stop moving. They'll be panting because they can't take this relentless teasing anymore. He'll pull out and stand up, pick her up in her arms and take her to the futon where he'll lay her on her back. She'll spread herself wide and thrust her hips forward, holding his gaze all the while.

Gintoki will lick his fingers and stroke her swollen clit a few times before he starts to fuck her hard and deep. But, he'll still maintain a slow and steady tempo. The moment she'll start arching her back, he'll pull out and grin at her. Every time he'll pull out, she'll see his cock twitching, aching to be back inside. She'll notice it's equally hard for him to be edging for so long. She'll smirk. Gintoki will narrow his eyes at her. How dare she.

He'll start fucking her again, painfully slow, waiting to strike at the right moment. The moment he feels her back arching again, he'll pull out again. But, this time, instead of grinning at her and waiting for her to stop writhing, he'll slap her clit hard and then immediately rub it hard and fast. She'll go into a frenzy of screams and moans and her entire body will shiver, she will pull him down towards her and wrap her legs around him, his hand still not relenting her clit.

When she'll be completely spent, swollen, and sweating, her hair stuck to her breasts and neck, Gintoki will turn her around. She'll arch her back a bit, just for him. He'll guide his cock in the tight folds of her thighs, straight into her beautiful cunt, and start to fuck her at a slow pace all over again. She'll moan deep into the pillow, her face will be flushed from all the work, and her hands will be trying to reach at the back for his thighs. Gintoki will lie on top of her as he fucks her from behind. The moment she'll feel his weight on her, his sweat on her back, she'll cum around him, gushing, and the noises will get sloppier and louder.

She'll groan his name out loud in the pillow and he'll have turned her to her side by then. He'll put her head on his arm, spooning her. He'll hold her leg up as he'll thrust deep inside of her from behind. He'll hold her chin and turn her face to his to look at her flushed face, her mouth shaped a perfect small o, her eyes closed, eyebrows raised, in a kind of pleasure she's never felt before.

"Open your eyes."

She'll fling open her eyes and find him looking at her with an expression that makes her weak in her knees. She'll buck and jerk as she'll feel him finally going slightly faster with harder and shorter strokes. She'll feel him twitching inside her and she'll clench tighter around him, never breaking from his electrifying gaze that tells her he owns her completely.

A wild guttural sound she's never heard will escape Gintoki's throat. He'll moan her name hard as she'll feel his warmth spreading inside of her in bursts. She'll move to kiss his petal like lips, only to be thrusted once again with such force that her eyes will widen with the suddeness of it. He'll ease out of her slowly, in short thursts, and once he's fully out, he'll lift her leg higher to get a better view of her cunt, messy and slick with his cum dripping out. He'll throb, and be unable to control himself, and give her one last deep and hard thrust again. She'll make a high-pitched squeak at the suddeness again.

He'll stay inside her for a while, throbbing still. He'll be too spent to move but he'll kiss her face and feel her sweaty body with his firm hands fervently.

They'll both fall asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms.

Gintoki will wake up before her. It'll be dinner time. She'll wake up to him by her side in a towel, wet and fresh from his bath. He'll be wiping her legs and thighs with a warm and wet cloth, and smiling while he watches her wake up. She'll start to say something but he'll cut her off and say, "Dinner's ready, doll." He'll kiss her jaw and then her forehead and leave the room.

She'll sit up in bed, her entire body will be aching. She'll notice a packet on the corner of the bed. She'll pick it up and see that it has a morning-after pill, a pregnancy test, and a follow-up appointment with her usual gynaecologist. She'll blush a deep a red when she sees a glass of water by her bed-side.

"When the fuck did he become so...un-lazy? Where has he been hiding this side of him?!" She'll say out loud in disbelief.

//

Afterthougts:

In the first few months, Gintoki will make a conscious effort to get accustomed to his partner's menstruation cycle. He'll make sure he knows the days she's least fertile so he can minimize the risk of her getting knocked up. If that's not intimate and hella caring idk what the fuck is.

[wisteriabookss]

My ACOSF Review (2/5 Stars)

Please respect my opinions. Not everything I say will be praiseful or nice. While I liked a lot of this book, a lot of it frustrated and bothered me. 

This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk. 

This review will be more of an overall impression, and I will get more in depth about certain characters in future posts. 

I eventually got into the plot of the book, but I don’t think it was as great or creative as it could’ve been. I feel like SJM recycled ideas she’s already used to create the storyline. A quest to find a magic object that can stop a war and save the world? That sentence applies to both ACOWAR and ACOSF. It’s even more disappointing when you know there were other routes the plot could’ve taken but were eventually scratched. It was the perfect set up for an Illyrian mountain setting, it was written in canon, and, unsurprisingly, SJM retconned and changed it. 

The Valkyrie plot was cool, if a bit forced and out of place. Nesta barely starts training, and all of a sudden she wants to recreate a powerful band of female warriors that we’ve never heard of in the context of this world? Honestly, it feels like SJM watched Thor: Ragnarok, and was like, “Yes, that’s what I’m gonna do.” I thought Helions winged horses would come into play with that, but I guess we’ll have to see.

I thought the Blood Rite plot was gone, but we got it in the end, even though it was rushed. The most beautiful parts of the book happened during the Rite, so I’m glad we got to see those.

The ending of Briallyn was so swift I literally had to go back a page to make sure I read it right. Literally one page, and she’s killed. I expected more. I can’t say I'm surprised by how rushed her death was when I knew the Feysand trouble was approaching, and the number of pages left was getting smaller. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that SJM would save Rhys, Feyre, and their baby. Out of the entire ensemble in Kingdom of Ash, she only had the heart to kill Gavriel, who wasn’t too much of a main character. There was no way in hell she would do that to Feysand. 

I’m sorry, but I do not like the name Nyx. Imagine calling someone Nyx? Did she originally have it as Nick, but just needed to put an X? My eyes were rolling so hard when I read it. Just put an ‘O’ in front of it and end our misery, though I still would’ve rolled my eyes at that name too. The name just reminds me of all the blogger moms who put X’s in their child’s names for dramatic effect that ends up looking like they can’t spell.

I also didn’t appreciate the out of touch colloquialisms in this book either. Prythian doesn’t have a name for anxiety, depression, or PTSD, but they know what lactic acid means?

The amount of sex in this book was something we had been warned to expect, and I think due to the fastness of me reading this book (finished in two sittings), it made it feel like the sex was happening every other page, which it basically was. I’m not going to be mad though because a) it was well written, b) I didn’t feel like it harmed the plot too much, and c) this is the only Nessian smut we’re going to see in canon. But that threesome line with Az. . . y'all know which one I’m talking about. . . the one with the details about certain positions. . .  chile um anyways let’s move on. 

I called it months ago that Emerie would either be Mor or Azriel’s love interest, and looks like it’s going to be Mor. SJM’s writing is fairly predictable, especially when it comes to romantic ships, and she couldn’t have been more obvious about the two of them. I will write about Gwyn and Azriel in Azriel’s chapter review (cause that monstrosity needs a post of its own).

Now about Nesta’s healing arc. Some of it was satisfying and others were saddening. I’m happy that Nesta was able to find purpose in her life, and not believe herself to be worthless or pathetic, but strong and powerful. I’m happy she found Gwynn and Emerie; I love their friendship. I love how they stuck by each other no matter what, and saw the good and potential in one another.

However, even by the end of the book, Nesta still thinks herself as undeserving. Of Cassian, of love. She knows she has it, and she's so grateful for it, but she still believes she is undeserving of it, that Cassian is just so much better than her. A part of learning to love and live with yourself is knowing what you deserve, so why SJM took that from her character, I don’t know. I was continuously disappointed when said she was undeserving of anything, even after she had learned and grown from her mistakes. 

Maybe SJM thinks the belief of being undeserving of one's partner is romantic. I’m telling you now, it’s not. All that does is give unnecessary power to a person you believe you are undeserving of, and this leads to unequal power dynamics in a relationship. Rhys was the exact same with Feyre, so I’m guessing it's a theme.

Speaking of romantic themes, the repetition of the “your mine-im yours” line in this book was nauseating. Your going to make Nesta say the exact same thing her sister said when they had sex? Is there nothing else SJM could’ve come up with? It’s just so weird. And I swear to god if I see Elain do the same thing I’m gonna vomit. 

Nesta apologized to Cassian about what she said to him on Solstice in ACOFAS as if he never called her unlovable. As if he never said he didn’t understand why her sisters love her. He never apologized for that. There was so much apologizing from Nesta to Cassian about her calling him a brute, as if Cassian didn’t say he was “shackled” to her after she clearly explained how she feared she would lose her humanity if she accepted the word mate. Not if she accepted him, but the word. 

For Cassian to routinely tell Nesta to, “shut her fucking mouth,” when she used some attitude against Rhys was comical. Rhys has been bad mouthing and disrespecting Nesta this whole time, and when she shows some warranted attitude in return (not even an insult), Cassian rips into her. It doesn’t matter what he did for you, babe. Not everyone has the same experience with Rhys, so Cassian getting angry when Nesta showing anger at the way she was being treated was wrong. Her experience with him does not become invalidated just because Cassian has a good relationship with him.

There wasn’t a character arc for Cassian, which was one of the most disappointing parts of the book. He thinks of himself as inferior and undeserving as well, and by the end of the book it’s not even clear if that stance has changed. We saw him grow into the courtier persona in the meeting with Eris when Tamlin shows up, but we never see it again. I know there were instances in which he stood up for Nesta, but he also very quicky after that became silent in other moments when they were insulting her. The next book isn’t in his pov, but I’m hoping we see him become more confident in himself and make a firmer stance to protect Nesta (although I doubt he’ll need to seeing as how Rhys kisses the ground she walks on now).

Now onto Nesta’s apologies to the IC. I think Nesta apologizing to Feyre was expected, and I’m glad the sisters had that moment. I am, however, upset that there was never a moment where all the sisters sat down, and hashed it out. Talked about what they’d been through, how it affected them, and how it affected their feelings toward each other. After everything that happened between Nesta and Elain, all that hurt, you’re telling me all it took was Nesta to make Elain laugh by saying “fuck you,” and we’re good? It’s lazy writing. 

Elain telling Nesta that she only cared about how her trauma affected her did not sit right with me. Nesta sat by Elain’s side for weeks when she was in the thick of her struggles, and refused to leave her alone for fear that her struggles would eat her up alive. She constantly looked for anything that could help her sister, and never left her unprotected. Nesta and Elain didn’t communicate after the war, for reasons that we now know was because of Nesta’s guilt for Elain being kidnapped. It is not abnormal when a family member has been traumatized by things that have happened to another family member. That’s expected. Ask any family who has lost a child or had a relative go through something horrible.

Elain is acting as if Nesta has only ever been concerned with herself when she’s spent her entire life concerned with Elain. I made a post long ago about how the IC only wanted Nesta to heal for their sake rather than her sake, and there’s so much more evidence for that than for Elain. Elain’s healing process was able to be understood and encouraged by the IC, whereas they had no idea what to do with Nesta. So for Elain to come at Nesta for not caring about her trauma, a second after Nesta was trying to protect her from further trauma by telling her she didn't want her seering for the Trove, was unwarranted.

Speaking about Elain looking for the Trove, what happened there? Elain had this whole speech where she said she wanted to do something and no one could stop her and then we just. . . don’t hear anything about it again? SJM had a perfect opportunity to do something powerful with Elain there, and completely threw it away. 

Nesta’s apology to Amren was extreme, dramatic, and honestly, unnecessary. Amren called Nesta a “pathetic waste of life,” constantly demeaned and degraded her anytime her name was mentioned, and said she did all this because Nesta used her as a shield against her problems and the IC. Seriously? Nesta using Amren as a shield does not warrant that kind of verbal abuse. It doesn't make her a pathetic waste of life. Amren’s been alive for how long? And reacts like that to an obvious side effect of extreme trauma? No ma'am. Nesta getting on her damn knees was too much, and obviously just another moment, like a lot of moments, that SJM felt the need to make dramatic. And then having the audacity to let Amren say to Nesta that, “the struggle with the darkness is worth it,” when she was one of those people who contributed to that darkness is disgusting.

I didn’t like Rhys at all in this book. Even after he saw inside Nesta’s mind about her experience in the cauldron, he was still wary and rude with her. Literally anytime Nesta showed that she was changing, Rhys didn’t change anything about his attitude or behavior towards her. A moment of regret, and then he’s back to being arrogant ass Rhys. Him not telling Feyre about the baby was also extremely stupid. It’s her body, her life, her baby’s life, his life, and she had a right to know what was happening. Not telling her because you didn’t want her to be “upset,” is a dumb excuse. I thought you always promised to let her make her own decisions, Rhys? What happened to that promise? The one that was a hell of a lot better than the stupid bargain ya’ll made? Though Nesta told her out of anger, good on her for telling her sister. Should’ve happened way sooner. His apology to Nesta was the only one that warranted the dramatics. That is what you get on your knees for.

That whole scene about him becoming High King had me throwing the book. Amren telling Rhys that the swords were some sort of mother-mary-cauldron-blessed-hallelujah sign that he was supposed to be High King had me fuming. It’s Nesta’s power. It’s Nesta’s sword. That should have never been a discussion. Not everything is for Rhys. These people are so blinded by their love for him they can’t even see how arrogant he is. To write Nesta giving back Ataraxia made me so angry after we just had a whole moment where we find out it means inner peace. I just hope that all of this is not foreshadowing Rhys becoming High King. I know you love him Sarah, but please don’t.

All in all, this book wasn’t too bad. There were some great moments and some bad moments. I think SJM’s biggest issue in her writing is that she doesn’t outline, or at least doesn't seem to outline, not thoroughly. I feel like she uses plot devices willy nilly whenever it’s the easiest solution. There was never a moment where I said, “that was clever!” A lot of it was cool, but not clever. Not creative. She also has a tendency to write very dramatically, in staccato type sentences where everything is made into a big moment, which bugs me a lot. 

I love Nesta. She’s still my fav, and will probably always be my fav. This book doesn’t change that, and as you can tell in my review, most of the issues I had weren’t with her behavior, but with the behavior of other characters. I still love Cassian, even though he made me want to rip my hair out sometimes.

Will I read the next books? Probably. I can’t seem to stay away from these characters or these books, so kudos to SJM for writing them. I know a majority of people have given this book 4 or 5 stars, but I can’t bring myself to give it more than 2/5.

[scuttling]

While You Were Sleeping (Okay, in a Coma)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Derek Morgan & Latina Original Female Character Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid Word Count: 2,058 Chapters: 1 of ? WIP Tags: SFW so far, Sophie is not in the BAU, While You Were Sleeping (film) AU, Coffee shop, Unrequited love, Canon-typical violence, Slow burn

Summary: What happens when Derek Morgan, the man Sophie Cortes is secretly in love with, goes into a coma, and everyone around them mistakes her for his girlfriend? As if things weren't complicated enough, his boss is sweet, kind, incredibly handsome, and makes sure she's taken care of while Derek is in the hospital. Plus, she thinks one of Derek's coworkers is more secretly in love with him than she is. Feelings shift, but how does Sophie explain to the world that she fell for Aaron while Derek was sleeping, without hurting everyone she's come to care about?

Read on AO3 or read more below! The morning that changes Sophie Cortes’s life forever begins much like any other: she wakes up at 3 AM to her blaring alarm, slides out of bed with a groan, tugs off the oversized t-shirt she slept in and pulls on a sports bra and leggings to go for a run. She knows this makes her sound like a lunatic, but with her schedule, if she doesn’t exercise before the crack of dawn, it just doesn’t happen.

After her run, she goes home to shower and change, grabs her bag and drives to The Busy Bean, the coffee shop she co-owns with her best friend Jocelyn. Jocelyn is the brains of the operation, the one with all the great marketing ideas, the one who handles the finances and vendors and supply issues and makes sure everything is Fair Trade or else—Sophie bakes cookies and makes macchiatos, but everyone’s got their strong suits.

She loves the coffee shop more than anything, its bright brick walls and dark wood floors, the smell of fresh beans and sugar, the bustle of regular customers they get from being so near Quantico; most of them are serious suit types, always in a hurry, but some of them are sweet, take their time to say good morning, like Sophie’s favorite customer, Derek.

She knows Derek is a fed of some sort, even though he’s not usually in a suit. He has that air about him, like he’s powerful and capable, like he’s seen things, but he never fails to flash her a megawatt smile, to lean against the counter while she makes his mocha and ask her how her morning is going. She’s a little bit in love with him.

Jocelyn knows this, and always makes sure Sophie is the one to wait on him; when she calls Sophie out from the kitchen specifically because Derek’s there, she knows he knows, and she flushes, but he says she makes his drink better than anyone, always asks her for a cookie recommendation on Fridays so he can take a box to the office, so she thinks it might not be completely one sided. Maybe. Or he’s just a really, really sweet guy.

On the morning that changes her life forever, he’s still very sweet, but she also sees a side of him she’s never seen before.

Someone tries to rob them. The man walks right up to the counter, no mask, no nothing, and tells her to put all of the money from the register into a cookie box or he’ll pull out the gun he’s got in his pocket and blow her face off. Her first instinct is to be pissed about this, which she knows is really stupid. She takes a step back, looks at the guy like he’s an idiot, crosses her arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how hard we work for this money? We don’t sit around… playing video games in our mom’s basement, like you do, by the looks of it.” The guy is obviously not happy about this, slams his hands down on the counter, and Derek, who is two spots behind him, leans slightly out of line to get her attention.

“Sophie, is this guy bothering you?” Before she can answer, the guy turns to look at Derek; he takes one glance at his hot, strong physique, and then his gun and his badge thing, and books it out of the shop. Derek tears off after him, and Sophie can see this ending very badly, so she grabs Jocelyn, asks her to cover the register and tells her she’ll be right back.

She jogs outside, expecting to see Derek manhandling the dumbass robber, or at least still chasing after him; she does not expect to see Derek laying on the ground, bleeding out, a bullet wound in his stomach.

“Oh my god, Derek!” She skids to a halt next to him, pulls off her apron—it’s mostly clean, she thinks—and lifts up his shirt, presses it to the wound to stop the bleeding. “Are you okay? That’s dumb, you’re not okay, but can you hear me? Are you going to die?” He chuckles, and that makes her feel a little better, but then he coughs up blood, and that makes her feel much, much worse.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, calls 911, and just stays with him, talks to him about nothing and everything, until the police and paramedics arrive. At that point, he has passed out, looks drained and weak, so unlike the Derek she has come to know… and love. Fuck. If he dies because of something that happened at her shop…

“Excuse me, miss, but we need to get him on the stretcher,” an EMT says, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. She backs off, knows he needs to be attended to, but she can’t leave him, she just can’t.

“Can I ride to the hospital with him? Please,” she asks the other tech, and she glances at her partner, who nods. Sophie sighs a breath of relief, sends a text to Jocelyn explaining what happened and that she’ll need to be out of the shop for the foreseeable future.

She notices that Derek’s phone has fallen off of his belt, and she picks it up, since the paramedics don’t seem interested. She absently decides to look through his recent contacts, to see if there’s someone she should inform of the accident: the last number he dialed belongs to someone named Hotch, and she vaguely remembers him mentioning the name before. It might be his boss, or something? He dials the number frequently, anyway, so she figures it’s worth a shot.

“Hotchner,” the man answers after two rings, and Sophie sighs, glad she got through to someone. Even if he’s not the person she should be contacting, he might know how to reach them.

“Uh, hello. I’m pretty sure you’re Derek’s boss, but even if you aren’t, you’re the last person he called, so… There’s been an accident. Derek’s been shot. We’re headed to the GWU Medical Center; I thought you would want to know.” She can hear the man moving some papers in the background, banging something around on his desk, maybe.

“We’re on the way; how bad is it? Is he conscious? What happened?” The paramedics signal for her to hop into the back of the ambulance, so she does, and she takes Derek’s limp hand. Her eyes well up with tears, and it feels real, now, that she has to relive it.

“There was someone trying to rob the coffee shop, and—and Derek went after him; he had a gun, and I guess he shot him. I mean, he obviously shot him. In the stomach. He’s not conscious; I don’t know how bad it is, but he was coughing up blood. Oh, god,” she breathes, voice shaky, and the man on the phone makes a soft sound of reassurance.

“It’s alright. He’s a very strong person, I promise you. He’ll be okay. You said you were headed to GWU Medical Center; are you with him now?”

“Yes. The paramedics let me ride with him. I can text you an update when we get there, his room number if he has one.” She can hear him talking to someone else in the background, but it only takes him a moment to answer.

“Please do. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Thank you,…?” He pauses, clearly wondering who the hell she is.

“Oh, Sophie. Sophie Cortes.”

“Aaron Hotchner. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

The paramedics push Derek into the emergency room entrance, and Sophie follows behind, feeling anxious and out of place, and worried about his injury. They push the gurney through a set of double doors, and Sophie goes to follow, but a stern looking nurse in gold scrubs puts a hand in front of her, doesn’t even look up from her clipboard.

“You can’t go in there.” Sophie’s heart-rate jumps, and she shakes her head.

“I need to go in there, I need to make sure he’s okay. Please.”

“Are you family?” she asks, giving her a once-over; she clearly decides that Sophie is not family, and she doesn’t want to lie, anyway.

“No, I’m not family, but—”

“Like I said, you can’t go in there. Family only.” She moves her arm, waits like she dares Sophie to try, but she just sighs, sags against the wall, and the woman walks away.

“But you don’t understand,” Sophie says weakly, to herself. “I’m in love with him.” She brings up a hand to scrub at the tears forming in her eyes, and another nurse, one with blue scrubs and braids and a kind smile, rests a palm on her shoulder.

“Come with me.” Sophie looks up at her—she looks kind of like an angel, but it’s probably just the fluorescent lighting—and nods, follows.

She takes her through a staff only door, sneaks her into the OR hallway, where they can peer through a window at Derek, surrounded by doctors, surgeons, nurses. Sophie has only seen this kind of stuff on TV, so she doesn’t know how it’s going, but the nurse who brought her tells her to stay there for one second and bustles off.

It’s really scary to watch: there are bloody cloths being thrown around, and tubes and clamps and other medical devices she’s not sure the use for, but after a moment, she can see a doctor lift up a pair of surgical pliers, and there’s a bullet between the prongs. That’s a good sign, she’s pretty sure.

The nice nurse comes back, and she scares the shit out of Sophie when she puts a hand on her arm, making her jump a foot. She smiles apologetically, and Sophie returns it.

“I found out his room number, if you’d like to go sit and wait for him to be brought in. It's an ICU, so technically visiting hours haven’t started yet, but I can make an exception—for an hour, okay?” Sophie nods, wraps her hands around the nurse's wrists.

“Thank you so much. Really—I just need to know he’s okay,” she says, and the woman nods understandingly and takes her to room 104, where Derek will be placed after surgery.

She texts the number to Derek’s boss, takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She gets restless quickly, stands up, uses the bathroom sink to scrub at her hands, because they’re still stained with Derek’s blood. It’s quiet, eerily so, until suddenly it isn’t.

Derek is wheeled in on a bed by a couple of nurses; he looks a little better, all wrapped up in gauze, and they hook him to machines, displaying a steady heartbeat. She breathes a sigh of relief. He’s alright. He’s not dead. That’s incredible news. She takes his hand, wills herself not to cry, murmurs that she’s so happy he’s alive.

As soon as the nurses leave, a group of people who can only be Derek’s coworkers enter the room. There is a tall, serious looking man with dark hair and a dark suit; a woman with thick fringe, a kind face; an older guy with facial hair who looks worried and weary; a skinny guy who looks about the same as Sophie feels; a petite blonde woman with the bluest eyes Sophie’s ever seen; and another blonde woman with crimped hair and glossy lips who has absolutely been crying. They look at Sophie, and she stands, drops Derek’s hand.

“Um, hi, I’m—”

“Who are you?” a doctor says suddenly from behind the group. The kind nurse who let her see Derek is behind him. The serious looking man reaches into his pocket, flashes a badge with a no-nonsense expression.

“We’re with the FBI. We’re his coworkers.” He looks over at Sophie, and she takes a deep breath. Before she can explain who she is, the kind nurse steps around the doctor, flashes Sophie a smile.

“And she’s his girlfriend.”

Uh. What the fuck?

Derek’s coworkers exchange a look that says pretty much the same thing; the tall skinny one looks like his heart has been broken.

Sophie opens her mouth to correct that extremely incorrect assumption, but she can’t find the words, and then she passes out.

[roses-ruby]

sinner;

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Cop AU, An onslaught of Angst, Thriller, Mature

Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Stalking, Emotional and Physical abuse, MiSoGYny, Violence, Bad parents, Bad cops, Kidnapping

Word Count: 11,000

Summary: No matter where you run, the past will find you.

The dark clouds approached along the light blue fabric of the sky.

You watched them from your car window, dreading the downpour you’d have to drive home through tonight. With a sigh, you open the door and step out of your 2012 Hyundai Accent, planting your soles firmly onto the cemented parking lot. Your rustic car shakes with the loss of weight and the door creaks at the hinges once you slam it shut.

Somehow the old you had managed to entertain yourself with the thought that receiving a promotion would ultimately be able to afford you a better car, but no – you were stuck with the same failing engine, same worn out tires, same chipped paint aside the right headlight and occasional oil leaks.

Old you was a fool, you think, placing your hands in your coat pocket and walking towards the station in a swift, rigid pace. The air was chilly, and the strong breeze hit your face in unpleasant streaks. You kept your head down, arms clinging to the sides of your body to warm you up. There were barely any people outside the station, just a couple of men in blue quickly ensuring victims or witnesses. Years on the force had given you the eye to spot the differences between your average citizen and a perp with ease.

Perps always had an emptiness in their gaze. A vacant spot that erased their crime from their own mind. Defense mechanism they call it. You weren’t a stranger to that emotion yourself.

With no time to waste, you rush up the steps. As you pull the door of the station open, your ears are immediately filled with chatter, paper clatter and ringing phones. More importantly your body is filled with warmth. Like it was memorized in your head, you sift through the desks and file cabinets with ease, trudging past several rushing bodies on your way to a hallway down the right. Reaching the end of the corridor, you see the four men you were expecting through the clear glass window in front of their room. They were laughing at something one of them had said, a laughter that came to a full stop the moment you burst into the chief’s office.

All eyes were on you.

“There you are, detective! Right on time.” The chief, a charismatically aged character, calls out your last name as he leans back in his creaky leather chair.

“Not like she has anything better to do…” Hyun, the Sergeant’s younger partner, remarks underneath his breath.

“It’s my day off chief…this better be good.”

“Why? Did you have a date?” You catch Hyun’s sarcastic eyes before he bursts into a fit of laughter at your unamused face.

“Like you ever get laid.” Jimin scoffs at him with a raised eyebrow from the opposite side of the room.

“Motherfucker I got laid last night!” Hyun shouts like that was the funniest thing he’s said while Jimin holds back his growing smile.

“Yeah? Your asshole still hurt?” Sarge slams Hyun in the back as they all break out into mutual cackles. Hyun fights back by pushing his older partner into a cabinet while making derogatory remarks.

You try not to scowl at the suffocating testosterone in the air as you watch the boys play around.

“All right, all right, quiet down.”  The chief shouts, rubbing his forehead wrinkles with his fingers and looking back at you like he suddenly remembered you exist. “___- uh…we got a little situation for you.”

He reaches to the left of his desk and picks up a file before throwing it up ahead on the table. There was a sudden coating of thick silence around the room as your eyes roam from the detectives scrutinizing you, back to the thick manilla folder thrown out in front of you. You carefully walk up to where the file laid, picking it up and examining the name on the small name card clipped at the top left.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

You question in surprise. Your orbs fly from the chief’s empty face to the white name card.

“How much do you know about Jeon?” The chief asks slowly. You recognize that tone of voice. That tone you’ve witnessed multiple times in interrogation with a suspect. The aura in the room felt strange.

You drop the file to your side so you can look the chief right in the eyes.

“What do you mean? I know that he’s the most accomplished assassin-for-hire to this date. I know that he has his dirty hands everywhere across the East. I know that he’s responsible for Asia’s most influential triad trade. I know that he’s taken down too many of our own and I know he should be jammed into a cage for the rest of his life, chief.”

The chief exhaled, some tension leaving his facial features as he leans further back in his chair and shuts his eyes. You studied the man in pity. Was this how you were bound to end up in a few years? Bald, stressed, only black coffee in your system, suspicious of everyone and everything with a failing marriage and kids who won’t speak to you?

Half of that was actually how you lived like right now.

“I’m sorry, ___. You know how many rumors there are of officers under Jeon’s thumb. Patrollers, lieutenants, even agents…they are all chummy with that bastard. I can’t help but be careful.”

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with me, chief?” You furrowed your eyebrows, still not understanding what was happening or why you were called in on your day off for an ‘urgent’ matter.

“We caught him.” Sarge interjects, “Tip came in this morning about a deal in the abandoned mill off the northwest. He surrendered as soon as we showed up, no casualties.”

You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping. Did you hear that correctly? Jeon Jungkook, who had been on the world’s most wanted list for 6 years now just happened to be caught in your city, at the abandoned mill in the middle of the day? It was hard to believe but Sarge didn’t seem like he was joking.

“T-that’s great…w- is he in custody right now? Here?”

“He is. But we have a problem though…” You look back at the chief who was staring right at you. “He won’t talk.”

“I mean we expected that, right? He did the same thing in Hong Kong. Wha- is...is he pleading the fifth or-”

“That’s the thing, he surrendered but didn’t make any attempts to cooperate, he’s just been sitting stationary on his ass for 3 hours. The deputy had to phone it in as soon as he got here, so Kane’s bound to show up at any minute. They’ll take him away to some fucking facility and we’ll just have to stick out our tongues and wag our tails while the big boys do the real work. Damn! We couldn’t find jack shit when raiding the fucking mill!” The chief rambled, still massaging his forehead like he had a headache. “And that deadly weapon expert? All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

He snorted but there was no amusement in his voice. But suddenly his vigor died down and his eyes stared off into the distance.

“…There’s only one thing he said the entire time he’s been in that interrogation room.”

“…What did he say?” You ask carefully, noticing the way everyone present was glaring holes into you.

“He said he’ll only speak to you.” The chief leans towards you, placing his elbows on his desk with his eyes slightly squinting and an unspoken question on his lips.

Suddenly the room turns cold and you feel like you were outside in that freezing chill once again. Your mind runs a mile a minute and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. It all makes sense just then. The threatening atmosphere, the stare downs, the discerning. They all had one question staining their mind. Why would the world’s most powerful hitman and black arms dealer want to talk to some random low-grade rookie detective?  

Hell, you didn’t know yourself.

“Me? Why would he want to speak to me?”

“He said he knows you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. That was ridiculous. If you met someone like Jeon Jungkook before, you would remember it…wouldn’t you?

“Chief, I’m telling you, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then how could he know your full name?” Hyun interrupts

You glare at him from your position in the middle of the room. “How am I supposed to know dumbass?”

He smirks, his disgusting gaze sharpening. “Maybe he just knows how to sniff out the cunts.”

“Watch your fucking mouth Hyun.” Jimin steps between you both in a flash. He was facing away from you, but you could tell he was pissed by how he clenched his fists. Hyun scoffs, the corner of his lips picking up.

“I sniff two.”

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Jimin tries to leap at him but you barely manage to hold your partner back by the shoulder. Smart mouth also gets up from where he was leaning before Sarge rushes up to the younger. They both glare at each other like they were ready to kill while you grimace looking at each of their loaded holsters. The fact that these men were allowed to open carry was the most terrifying part.

“Enough!” The chief shouts, standing from his desk, “Hyun learn how to shut your yap hole for once, and Park, I need you to back off. There’s already a lot of tension in this room cause of Jeon…let’s handle that motherfucker first, officers.”

He warns Jimin to which you hold him tighter, whispering at him to let it go. Eventually the blonde simmers down – they both do, and you watch the way the chief exhales defeatedly.

“___, is there any reason at all- anything you can think of- and really think now, all the way back to before you transferred here- as to why Jeon Jungkook would want to speak to you? Why he would say he knows you?”

“None, chief.” You state calmly. There was nothing to think about, you didn’t know him.

The man stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, officer. I’ll need you in that interrogation room immediately. Maybe you can find an answer to this whole mess of a situation.”

“What the hell chief?” Hyun immediately complains, “I brought him in! I should be the one questioning him! You can’t just do that to me-” He growls, stepping up to the boss’ desk.

“Shut it!” Sergeant smacks the back of his big head while you breathe through your nose to keep calm.

Hyun always made his dislike for you obvious. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact reason he hated you because there were one too many. You were a stickler for rules and tradition, a woman (more specifically a woman who has made more arrests than him), and not the type to try and fit in. He hated how you didn’t fall in line and mostly kept to yourself – private and introverted. Whatever, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought of you. Although you were used to Hyun’s moronic nature, it was still rarely this chaotic and tense in your station. Everyone seemed to be at one another’s neck. The most thrill you all had was capturing a local drug dealer a few years back.

But then again, Jeon Jungkook was far from your average criminal.

“You were in there for 2 and a half fucking hours with the captain himself, Hyun. What did you get out of it?” Chief groans

“I-I just need a little more time, just a li-”

“Time we don’t have!” The older man yells at the top of his lungs. “I know you’re the one who cuffed him and I’m real happy for that 20 second thrill you got but you can’t just get your panties in a twist when things don’t go your way. ___ here is just as capable of an officer as you. If she can get him to talk and we can gain some info on him and his little gang before those FBI pigs show up – just think of what that could mean for the team…”

Hyun scowled at the elder for a minute before contemplating on what was just said. Pursing his lips, he took a step back with a face that screamed defeat. “Yes, chief.” He mumbles.

“Good. Now ___,” The attention was once again placed on you. “We don’t have much time. Get out there and find out what that son of a bitch is thinking.”

“Yes, chief.”

“But listen, this man knows your name meaning it’s safe to say he knows your identity. He’s smart and he’s dangerous. Don’t get caught in any of his traps. We’ll be listening from the other side of the wall so if you feel like something’s off, signal us at any time, alright?”

His order had all the men in the room frowning for different reasons. Jimin had on his usual concerned face and even Sarge seemed worried. The thought of any stranger knowing your identity terrified you. But these were the last people on earth you would tell that to. You paid their disturbed expressions no mind as you nodded in determination, pulling your posture straight and holding your head up high.  

“Yes, chief.”

_

You clench the file towards your chest.

There was an unsettling feeling you felt standing outside the door of interrogation room 4. Same one you had felt the first time you became a detective and were ordered to interrogate some big burly guy who had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s tires. Even though you thought you had left your past behind, here it was, surrounding you in an uncomfortable heat. This wasn’t just some petty thief who robbed a local convenience store or some middle-aged man who tried to choke his wife to death.

No. This was much, much bigger than that.

Jeon Jungkook, also known as JJK was a notorious hitman with several successful operations carried out around the world. In Washington, Libya, Hong Kong, Brazil and even Rome. He made the most wanted list when he was only 19 and was infamous for getting the job done. None of the men in his list survived…ever. Not only was he a perfectionist in his handiwork but also knew how to deal with the preparation.

A master of weapons; he could operate a H&K P7 in his sleep and take down 10 operatives with a single combat knife. His knowledge of artillery made him a big deal amongst the triads so setting up a little side business as a black arms dealer was a walk in the park for him. He was strong, fast, smart and feared. Not even the finest could catch him and at times months would go on by without a sighting.

Yet suddenly…he was just behind this door.

And who did he desperately want to see?

You.

By name.

Of all people.

Now you consider yourself a logical person. Someone guided by intellect before anything else. You did the math, worked on the equation, pondered on the systematics but nothing clicked. Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for someone like him to want to meet you but then again, the whole situation was the strangest fucking thing you’ve seen.

Surrendering at an abandoned mill in your jurisdiction would be the last place you’d think Jeon Jungkook would be captured. In your mind, his destiny was meant to end on a grander scale at the edge of the world. Some Hollywood theatrical-like bullshit where they would have him cornered on some rooftop with multiple choppers and snipers ready to take him down. This however – the threatening but anticlimactic atmosphere… it didn’t make any sense. Not for someone as careful and calculated as Jungkook.

For some reason, it just felt like he was waiting on something…something big to happen. A sensation of doom coursed throughout your body. Everything about today felt wrong. Like you and your colleagues were caught right in his talons.

By far, the most bizarre part about the situation was how he knew your name and you. You’ve always kept such a lowkey profile, it just didn’t make any sense.

“___?” The sound of your name startles you and you whip towards your side to see your partner dressed in his usual face of worry. “You alright?”

“…I’m good.” You choke out, trying to sound as lucid as possible.

It doesn’t seem to convince him however as he tilts his head and frowns at you.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Chief shouldn’t have pushed you into this bullshit – why do we even have to listen to what a criminal wants anyway? I-”

“Jimin, calm down. I’m fine.”

“Bu-”

“Your mollycoddling doesn’t help as much as you think it does, Park.”

Your words seem to have surprised him, his stubborn expression morphing into denial.

“That’s…I didn’t mean…”

You shut your tired eyes, feeling bad about the way you spoke to your only friend at the station. This is exactly why everyone thought you were way too rigid and unapproachable. Jimin however was too much of a nice guy, always going out of his way to make friendly with you. It always made you wonder – why would a well-liked, popular and talented guy such as Jimin want to hang around you or even ask the chief to be your partner? Maybe it was pity he felt for you.

That feeling was not something you desired. It left a nauseous impression down your throat. All you wanted was to do your job the best you could, go home, take your pills and sleep your days away. You didn’t want anyone’s kindness or company, you just wanted it to be over. Park Jimin’s sincerity was a hindrance.

“I’m sorry it’s just…I’m real tired of getting treated like this. I get it, I’m a woman and somehow that means I’m a less than, a cause for concern or just a fucking HR liability. I fucking get it without every single one of you reminding me every damn day.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, ___.” Jimin stares at you apologetically

“Then please, Jimin. Let me do my job.” You hold his stare until he eventually sighs, giving you a nod and retreating.

Once he walks away, you let out a shaky exhale, reaching towards the door handle with trembling fingers. Get it together, you whisper to yourself. After all the tough talk, the truth was you weren’t ready. You were scared shitless. Maybe Hyun was right about you.

Maybe your father was.

Drowning out every negative thought, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

_

You were immediately greeted by the usual silent man on the interrogation chair. His dark orbs were soundlessly watching the wall ahead of him. When you step into the room, he turns his head to look at you. Once he notices you, he instantly breaks out into a smirk. Clenching your file harder, you physically stop yourself from shivering.

You had seen him before, in blurry internet sightings and news coverages. But never up close and personal…and never smiling. It was like you entered a whole different world; the room you were pretty familiar with felt like a surreal fantasy. He was drop dead gorgeous. Lethal, you could say. His face was round, and features were sharp. A prominent nose, pink lips, sharp jaw and intense, smoldering eyes. Midnight black hair shyly covered his temple as he sat upright and confident in his chair.

He was dressed rather casually – a dark blue denim jacket that molded around his muscles and black top that covered his long neck. Tight fitted black pants that were ripped at the knees, displaying his thick, strong thighs and the heaviest leather boots you’ve ever seen. His hands were cuffed to the table so everyone can see them at all times. All he did was sit still but somehow commanded your whole attention. You gulped involuntarily at the sight before you.

You’ve never seen a man more comfortable in his own skin.

When he notices you ogling, he raises a brow in amusement. It alarms you, your eyes shooting to the large mirror on the other side of the wall. They were probably watching you…waiting for you to mess up.

Not wanting to throw them anymore bones, you clear your throat. Walking in and sitting down opposite to Jungkook. You don’t give him the time of day, pretend not to notice his bottomless orbs following your every move as you flip the file open a couple pages. As you continue to ignore him, you swear you could hear him tsk under his breath.

“So… Jeon Jungkook. Aged 23. Professional hitman. Side arms dealer. Wanted by the CIA, FSB, NSA and the Navy seals. Says here you’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jungkook.”

This was routine. The lighthearted police tone you always used. Very rarely would officers come off strongly when interrogating perps unless they were fucking morons. It was better if everyone just cooperated like this was an elementary school’s playground and none of the children got violent. Perps had to feel comfortable enough to spill it all. Being approachable, calm and levelheaded was normal for an efficient detective.

It was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. You found yourself cringing at your voice, at the way you spoke. Your words felt so out of place and awkward. For some reason, you were hyper aware of everything you were doing. Maybe it was because you were under Jungkook’s extremely scrutinizing gaze or maybe because you knew Hyun was probably sounding out some sarcastic remarks about your abilities behind that mirror. Whatever it was, you didn’t feel good. Yet you continued on like everything was fine.

“You’ve been quite the busy boy, haven’t you?” You continue on, flipping through the file and swallowing the uneasiness.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, doll.”

His pet name for you stops you in your tracks. In the middle of turning a page that hung in midair. Slowly, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and he has on that same damn smirk. Stress-free posture and concentrated gaze. Looks like he was comfortable.

“…Really? Mind telling me about it?”

He continues to stare at you for a moment before letting out a humorous sigh. Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rolling his tongue in his cheek.

“What would you like to know?”

“Whatever you have for me.” You reply back, leaning in and using in the same low tone he used. Mirroring the suspect, playing the game. No matter how shaken you were, you knew how to do your job.

Another smirk appears on his face before he props back on his chair.

“Mhmm, I don’t know how much I can tell you doll. We all have secrets you see, we all got someone to fool. Like you right now.”

As his words settle in, you become confused. And by the way he chuckles, you know he can see it.

“That face you have on, that cute look of determination. Flipping through those pages like you’re learning something new about me. Something that I myself might not know. Like you didn’t already memorize it front to back, way before you came in here...those eyes that are desperately trying to win us over…like you have so much to prove still.”

You were thrown off. The way he unflinchingly delivered his speech in the most persuasive way. There was a certain way you had expected this to go in your mind, a certain power your brain gave you over him but now you realize all your thoughts were dust. In reality, you couldn’t comprehend what the fuck he was going on about which gave him the upper hand.

Thus, you looked into his eyes for an answer. Genuine eyes that shone as clear as day. It made you realize that he had nothing to hide. There was nothing he was trying to erase.

It left you speechless.

Your face must have been very obvious because next thing you knew, he was answering the question that lingered your thoughts.

“Your uncertainty gives you away. I guess it’d be present in anyone who’s constantly been made to feel inferior. All your life, you’ve had to go above and beyond to be considered half as good as your colleagues with dicks. No matter how much pain and humiliation you’ve endured, everyone expects more from you. It would drive anyone mad.” He moves in further, practically whispering at this point. “It could make anyone commit sinful acts.”

“…sinful?”

“My mother used to tell me about them,” He relaxes back in his chair, “…before she left that is. She was big on religion so she’d tell me all about these people who did bad deeds- sinner, she would call them. She’d go on and on about how they look and how they act. How they don’t have a place in this world amongst the good, non-sinners. We’d know exactly how to identify them, wouldn’t we doll?”

In the bright center of interrogation room 4, your pools were glued on the stranger that knew too much but let on too little. Jungkook was the one in cuffs, but you were the one who was starting to feel trapped.

“You don’t know me. We’re not the same.” You said out loud.

He turns silent for a moment, before grinning. “I think we’re more alike than you are aware of, detective.”

“Don’t fall for any of his traps.”

“W-” You swallow, “We’re not here to talk about me…”

You tried sounding as rational and self-assured as before, but your voice was barely above a murmur. And after you spoke, he smiled. His smile was way too innocent compared to who you knew he was.

“So, you want to know about me?” He chuckled “What do you want to know?

This was your chance, you thought, surprised at how easily he seemed to be ready to change the subject matter. You began flipping through the folder nonchalantly again, trying to get back on track.

“How about you start at the mill. Who were you meeting with so early in the day, Jungkook?”

Suddenly, his eyes darken and the look on his face becomes sinister, but that smile never falls. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat at his unexpected gaze.

“If you really want to know about everything that led up to this morning…then we’d have to look back quite a bit. Maybe back years ago…to a kid whose mother was never around and whose father beat the living shit out of him twice a day.”

He throws his head back and breaks out into a laugh at your unimpressed face. You were all ears but the last thing you wanted to do was spend an uncomfortable hour or two in here. The man creeped you out, so if he could just hurry up and get on with it, maybe you could go finish your nap and forget about today.

“Okay, okay, hah,” He sits back up straight, trying to conceal his laughter, “We don’t have to go that far back, but yeah this kid had it hard. But he was never one of those cucks. As he grew older, he couldn’t just sit there and take it. No…it wasn’t like that for him…he had to fight back, and he did fight for what he could, no matter what it took. He-”

_

“Open this fucking door you little freak!”

The door’s pounding shook the whole room. His anxiety was through the roof as he watched the weak wood quiver each time the monster banged against it. It could break at any moment now and he was afraid. He always, always acted tough. Always fought back the best he could. But the truth was that he was just a skinny teenaged brat.

He didn’t want to fight. He wasn’t built for it.

“Fuck off!” The kid tried to sound as menacing as possible, but it came out a pathetic whimper and only seemed to anger the man on the other side of the locked door even further.

It was hilarious really; the kid couldn’t help but leak tears. He hadn’t eaten in days, it was his 4th beating of the week – he felt lightheaded and his body was on fire. All he wanted in that moment as he clenched his fists over his ears inside the dark bathroom was for the door to stay strong. For anyone to help him.

But as the lock broke and the wood let out a heinous whine and he was hit with sudden light and a large shadow, he realized circumstances do not work in your favor when you stand there and do nothing. And the moment he understood that, was the moment his life was about to drastically change. More accurately, the very next week.

When you entered his life.

“So- Jeon Jungkook, age 16, failing high school student…written up 4 times, visited juvie twice. Now, tell me why you beat up that kid, Jeon?” You stood up straight, writing away mindlessly in your small notebook.

The kid did nothing but stare at you through his bruised eye and busted lip, while he sat on the edge of your desk. It wasn’t his first time dealing with the cops and something inside him always knew it wouldn’t be his last. When you didn’t hear his answer, you huffed, looking up at him from the pages between your fingers.

“Well? I don’t have all night you know. I could just lock you in.”

He smirked. It was easy to tell you were new, he noticed as soon as you walked in and were told to book him by the guy who arrested him. Your uniform had been pressed with great care, not one hair was out of place and your badge was polished and perfectly positioned. It felt like you just came out of one of those corny films about the ‘good’ cops; fighting crime for justice and truth. The kid was even younger than he was at that moment when he realized just how full of bullshit that trope was.

One glance around the room, at the other pigs in uniform and he knew you had just gotten the job. That your spirits hadn’t been crushed unlike these soulless bodies wandering the station’s premises.

That was the best quality about the kid, he had always been observant. A lot more than his peers or even the adults in his life. He could tell a great deal about you at one glance. You seemed jittery and nervous, trying to write as neatly as possible. It felt like you were trying to get someone’s attention – a high ranking older officer, who you kept observing from the corner of your eye. As the kid watched that man chortle with his equally dull colleagues, he thought there was a resemblance in you both, but that there also wasn’t.

“Then why don’t you?” The kid replied a bit too sarcastically, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible so maybe he could get some sleep for the first time in 3 days. It would do him a lot of good actually, being away from that house for a little while. Subtly, he was pleading.

“Look kid,” You grimaced, “I know that guy you beat up, he’s a racist little shit. He probably did something to you, I’m sure or you wouldn’t carry so many self-defense wounds along your hands. There might be some way I could help you; I want to help you. But only if you tell me what really happened, alright?”

It was silent just then. He was silent.

“I want to help you.”

He was expecting you to reprimand him for his smart mouth and then lock him up. That’s what anyone who took one glance at his file did. It was filled with crap about him, shit that they peered their nose over because they were so much better than him. The kid never trusted adults; they never did anything for him. He was the child that everyone discriminated against to remind themselves how lucky they were. At least my child’s not like that, is what they all thought. No one cared about his side of the story. No one but…you.

Your answer was something that caught him off guard for the first time in years.

“Why do you want to help me? I’m a criminal.”

“Oh yeah, you got a record,” You reply casually, flipping through your notes, “I glanced over it, it’s all for stealing food.”

Suddenly you became quiet. Taking a step back, you begin to study him up and down from where he sat.

“Is… is your dad not feeding you?”

Your gaze shifted further into concern and he held his breath. He’s never seen those eyes before on anyone �� never for him. Shit, his own mother never looked at him like that. Like she felt something for him. Not even when the bitch ran off with the neighbor and left him with that monster – young, weak and helpless.

Having someone worry about him made him feel strange, his whole body broke out into a quiver and his eyes watered. That kid could see himself in the reflection of your eyes that had widened dramatically at the change in his demeanor. And he tried to stop himself but for some reason, he wanted you to worry about him.

“Uh- I..wai- don’t cry-'' Flustered, you scrambled around, trying to find a tissue. You were new at the job and you weren’t used to people breaking apart yet. Everyone around you seemed so busy, hustling around the station like they didn’t see a teenage boy in the start of a mental breakdown…that or they didn’t care. Finally, you grab the handkerchief your mom had stuffed inside your uniform pocket and carefully hold it out for him.

But you drop it in a flash when you witness him get struck across the face the very next instant.

“YOU FUCKING TROUBLESOME BRAT!”

You flinched at the loud, unforgiving voice that resounded throughout the station. Everyone instantly went noiseless and it felt like the station just halted for the first time in years. All you could hear were the lingering ringing of phones.

“How many times have I warned you not to make trouble? You’re a disgrace!” The man spit into the kid’s face. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and muscular compared to the teenager but stood unevenly, favoring his left foot and walked with a limp. His face bore a scar on the cheek that was partially covered with a jungle of facial hair. His eyes seemed insane with anger and he reeked of hard liquor. You had to remind yourself that you had a taser in your holster.

Slowly, you looked back at the kid whose fringe covered his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch since the man slapped his face. A large red handprint on his already wounded skin. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“S-sir?” You cleared your throat to which the crazy man turned his sneer towards you. But you couldn’t let that faze you. “You can’t just hit a child like that, I need you to back away.”

That was the best you could do at sounding confident, but your strength wavered as soon as the man took a step towards you.

“You trying to tell me how to raise my son, girlie?”

The scent of alcohol clouded your senses. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish. Your body started trembling, but you still tried to stand your ground until-

“Jeon!”

Another loud voice interrupts you. This time though, you recognized that voice. Your dad steps between you and the snarling man and you almost cry out of relief. You gape at both of the men in awe, staring one another down. The tension wraps around your throat and you worry for the kid behind all of this. If a brawl breaks out, he’s likely to get injured…

For a second you tried peeking back at your desk over your dad’s shoulder, until you hear sudden robust laughter in front of you.

What the fuck?

“You son of a bitch, how’ve you been?” Your father daps his hand with the terrifying man and your face morphs into confusion.

The demeanor and the whole damn atmosphere between the men changed, just like that. All the suffocating animosity had vanished in an instant as if it never existed, which left you dumbstruck and standstill.

“I’ve been good you dick. You’re a lieutenant now, I see. No wonder I haven’t seen you around the parlor much.” The guy cackles loudly, making you cringe at his rotten teeth and bad breath.

“Ahh~ You know, the old ball and chain.” Your father so kindly refers to your mother, “Heh, actually I’m a sober man now! My oldest just became an officer like her father a month ago.” He moves to your side to pat you on the shoulder. You freeze under his touch and your wide pupils flicker between him and Jeon who took a newfound interest in you.

In any other instance, you would have been ecstatic to have your father compliment you. But right now, your brain had a hard time processing everything and you kept glancing at the stoic kid.

“This one yours?” The man smirks, eyeing you up and down in a disturbing way. You almost tasered him then and there. “She’s a bit noisy, isn’t she?”

Your dad laughs louder than before while you clench your fist.

“Relax, she’s just a kid – a whole rookie. She doesn’t know how all this works yet.”

You try not to grimace at his words. Here you were hoping he would have believed in you a bit more if you received a perfect score on the academy’s exam.

As his laughter dies down, your dad looks off to the side, just behind the giant man and raises his eyebrow. “And I take it this one’s yours?”

Jeon sighs, ruffling his hair with his calloused fingers. “Sadly. The kid’s a lost cause, ___. They can’t all be like your pretty little daughter. Every damn day hurting someone, busting balls, messing with the other kids…stealing. Just…you know after his mother left…”

He becomes mute suddenly. Staring at the ground in great concentration like he just got too emotional. Funny, you saw that look in another man last week. A man who lied about not murdering his wife. You tsk under your breath and look back at the kid, almost jumping out of your skin when you catch him staring right at you from where he sat. No more vulnerability in his young eyes. They were once again making the same hardened expression you saw when he first walked in here. Something felt very off.

Your attention flies back to the taller men when you feel your father shift towards the older Jeon.

“I understand.” He states sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Take him home…”

It took you a second to snap out of your mute state.

“But dad, he-”

“Let them go, ___. This man here,” He signals at the guy, “He used to be one of the greatest and most respected officers of his time. Spent his best years serving. It’s the least he deserves. It’s alright.”

“No that’s not- Dad!” You begin flipping through your notebook, trying to show your father your notes, “Look at the kid’s fingers and arms! His face! He looks malnourished and some of those wounds look old- and- and this man’s obviously drunk and agressi-”

“___!” Your father shouts in rage, effectively shutting you up. “This is a command from your direct superior! They’re leaving.”

“But-”

At that moment he menacingly leans in, close enough to breathe in your ear.

“Don’t embarrass me further, child.” He whispers with pure venom.

And just like that, all the fight in you leaves. Your shoulders slump and head falls to the floor. There were tiny needles poking you everywhere and your face felt hot – ashamed. His words ring inside your head like a mantra and you want to just run away and hide.

All you did was disappoint him.

Your dad apologizes for you and the next thing you hear is the man grabbing the kid by the arm and you couldn’t help but physically wince at how much pain he would be in at the moment. He staggers out of earshot and you do nothing but look at the ground. How could you possibly face the kid now? After you told him you’d help him.

Because of that you don’t notice anything. You don’t notice the fact that your handkerchief was no longer on the floor. Nor do you notice the kid’s eyes which stayed on you the whole time he was being dragged out of the building.

_

You sat there, speechless.

Jungkook tilted his head, softening his gaze at your shaken form.

“He looked at you the whole time after that. Only you…but you never noticed.”

You on the other hand couldn’t hear shit he was saying. All you could think about was that vague, really fucking vague memory you had of the moment he described. Your mind was everywhere, on your father, on his father, on that event that you ended up failing to recall somehow, at your conversation with the chief earlier.

“All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

How does someone process this? How did you forget this? There were countless of cases you’ve dealt with before, so many unusual moments that you just began throwing them out of your head for your very own sanity. That was the truth, but would anyone believe you? Jeon Jungkook was from your old hometown. Jeon Jungkook was someone you almost booked before. Jeon Jungkook was not someone who could’ve been forgotten. You, no longer in control of your facial expression, glance over at the mirror in horror. Would the chief actually think you lied?

In the back of your mind, you knew the real reason you chose to leave all the memories of your past behind – suppress them down and drown them out. But that information wasn’t something you could reveal to anyone. Ever. The one thing you were told to do was not fall into his trap, yet here you are. Your mind was a mess, which meant there was no way you could have the advantage in this situation, and you were no longer fit to interrogate him. Desperate and anxious, you place your palm on your forehead like you were in deep thought. In reality, that was the signal. You wanted to escape this place.

Jungkook glares at the side of your face, getting angrier the more you ignore him. Today was supposed to be different, his one free day where he could finally get you to notice him. And there you sat, still not looking his way. Didn’t you know you didn’t need to worry about anyone else when he was right here?

“Doll.” He practically sneers but then simmers down and smiles when you finally turn back to him – all wide eyed.

“I wanted to thank you.” He continues, “Because that day changed me forever…”

You said nothing. Wondering why the men on the other side were taking so long. He took your silence as a chance to finish his story.

“I took my beating…took all of it and said nothing. Broke my rib and wrangled my neck but I said nothing. He was drunk, so I waited for him to tire himself out…waited till he passed out on that fucking couch. Then I strangled him…with that very piece of cloth you gave me.”

This has got to be some fucking nightmare.

“And it felt really good.” His voice slightly waivered, “To watch him turn red and struggle, to watch that bastard’s life leave his eyes while in return he saw me become his demise.” He stops rambling suddenly as if recalling where he was, “Within a span of 8 minutes…I became a criminal for killing the monster who tortured me every single day. I was a sinner. I hit rock bottom. And once you’re there, it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to climb back up to the top.”

As you heard him rant on, your mind started to drift off. For some reason, once you slowly start to remember that tethered kid, you felt something you haven’t felt for a while. Sympathy? Sadness? Or were you just reminiscing about who you were back then. The bright young woman who had a lot to offer the world. You shake your head, looking down at the table. That girl was dead, you chose to forget her and went along with whatever life threw at you.

Your father was right to criticize your soft heart and if he were alive today you were sure he wouldn’t be able to identify you. No longer were you that naïve child who stubbornly believed that there was good in this world – in its people. It didn’t matter to you the reasons why someone committed a crime – criminals were just labeled orange jumpsuits. Jungkook had met a completely different person back then, not you.

Then why did your chest ache this much?

“J…Jungkook…I…didn’t remember…”

“I know,” He states ensuringly, making you look back up at him, “You left your past behind, after all.”

Suddenly, all the color left your face. Your heart started beating faster and you broke out into a cold sweat. You faintly thought you heard a bang behind the mirror, but you didn’t care. For the first time since you got here, your whole attention was solely on Jungkook.

It made him so happy.

“W-what…”

“It hurt when you transferred, leaving a big hole in my already impoverished life. But I understood your reasons. How can someone stay after such an incident?”

He knows.

“H-H…How did you know…”

“Oh, I know everything about you, doll.” His sinister smirk reappeared as he relaxed back into his chair and you pursed your lips as you felt an oncoming panic attack.

He knows, he knows, he knows, he-

“I know your dad wanted a son. I know that it kills you inside to never get the respect you deserve no matter what you do and even the men who claim to respect you patronize you in subtly conditioned ways. I know what your favorite food is. I know how much you love whiskey. I know you’re wearing those red panties that I fucking love on you.” He takes a breath as you let out an involuntary gasp, “And I know it was an accident.”

The first tear fell down your cheek. Shock, anger, fear? None of it mattered anymore; it was useless to pretend. You knew he knew. It was over. He stared at you in pity, like seeing you cry made him hurt.

“How could he not want someone as beautiful as you, doll?” Jungkook whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I wanted…to be the best for him…I tried…” Your voice strains

“I know you did. I know. Which is why you had no choice…”

In an instant, it all comes crashing back.

-

You drove down the lane a bit too clumsily, as you took the long way home.

It was almost midnight and you were speeding past 80 on a two-way lane off a cliffside road, but you didn’t give a single fuck. Your smashed mind was preoccupied at the moment.

A whole year had gone by, but your dad still hadn’t given you an ounce of trust he had for the other officers. Your dad – the fucking police lieutenant. You told him – you warned him that the man was armed, but he still charged in blind, without back up. Almost got the rest of the family members killed by doing something so crazy and careless.

Then he blamed you for not following his lead when he came out.

The tears came out faster than you could wipe them. Growing up in that home was horror. Him being on the force somehow also made him a conservative, self-righteous douchebag. Berating you for the way you’d dress, the way you ate, the way you talked to the way you styled your hair. It made you sick.

You tried so desperately to win over your own father’s love and approval from such a young age and you had nothing to show for it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted a boy. A boy who could become a cop like him. And a part of you thought that maybe if you became a cop anyway – one as respected and admired as he was, then he would finally admit he was wrong. At the very least he could finally tell you how proud he was of you.

You went to such lengths to spend the year being the best damn officer your town had seen. 26 arrests, 1 successful drug raid, multiple successful testimonies and extensive gang knowledge. As a plus, you had become beloved in the community. That took the most effort – you had to look the prettiest even while overworking yourself with double shifts. Be traditional and confident but not an overbearing prude. And never let the ‘unnatural’ masculine traits your job gave you, overpower your ‘natural’ feminine ones. Sounds completely simple doesn’t it? Now everyone praised you right and left. It was record breaking; you were the shit.

Yet he still wouldn’t refer to you as detective.

It broke you apart. You were at the end of your wits. Out excelling every male peer in your force. But you had zero to show for it. Which means all your efforts were for nothing.

The pain in your chest got heavier by the minute which made you whimper. Tonight, you had drunk yourself silly but not enough to take away the ache. To help yourself along, you grabbed the half-empty bottle laying in the driver’s seat in a swift motion and popped it open. Your car entered the opposite lane without your knowledge.

You chugged down the last of the bitter liquor, smashing the bottle against the driver’s side window. The anger still remained as you wiped the remnants of alcohol away from your mouth. Your vision was hazy, and you felt so pathetic – dirty, disgusting, like you were rotting from the inside. All you ever wanted to do was earn your father’s acceptance, so much so that you lost sense of any individuality you had left in you.

For a second, everything was so still and quiet, that it felt like all would be okay. The night was dark but serene.

But that tranquility vanished the instant you witnessed two bright lights closing in on you.

It all happened too quickly. You immediately swerved to your right, a loud honking and the friction of tires blasting through your ears. Years of practice and one whole one of police chases makes your instincts faster than normal and you immediately apply the clutch as your foot floors the break and you grip the handle sturdy. Your car rotates haphazardly to the right, but you were able to come to a complete halt before your front engine crashed into a tree.

Yet it feels like you did just that as your body lunges forward and the sounds of a car smashing against shrubs pierces through your ears. You were thankful you had your seat-belt on so you didn’t go flying out the windshield, but all you could think about was the immense pressure against the front of your body. The whiplash left you in shock for a couple seconds.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in agony, bringing your arm up to your sprained shoulder.

As you gather yourself together, you finally remember your surroundings and your head whips to the opposite end of the road to where you finally spot the car you almost hit. In the disoriented dark, you really had to strain into the distance. The car hadn’t been as lucky as yours as it thrashed towards the cliff side of the road. Seemed like it was laid halfway out on the edge. A non-threatening, old compact SUV – most likely a family car. Possibly children present. You could hear them screaming.

Fuck.

You had to help them as quickly as you could. But the instant you tried stepping out, you saw the gleam of a bottle under the driver’s seat.

And just like that, your body fell limp. Because you were more sober now than you’ve ever been in any moment of your life, you barely remembered…you were drunk.

All of the pain in your body immediately changed into fear – your eyes became wide and your pores leaked sweat.

You were drinking.

If you get out to help them, they were bound to smell the alcohol. If they’re able to identify you…if the police are called-

Everything would end tonight. Your career would be over, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud publicly and your father-

Your father would never forgive you. He’d never speak to you again. You’d be disowned.

Don’t embarrass me further, child.

Don’t embarrass me further, c̴h̶i̵l̴d̶

don’tembarrassmefurtherd̸o̴n̷’̸t̶e̶m̷b̷a̴r̴r̴a̴s̸s̷m̷e̶f̷u̷r̴t̸h̸e̴r̴d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̴̼͚̠̈́̓ơ̶̪̜̅n̸̻̬͕͂͊͝’̸̼̪͉̌̒́t̷̲͓̐͒e̸̗̅͗m̵̨̹̫̓͑b̴̯̗̪̌̑å̷̬͕̻r̵̤͌̅̈́r̸̦̃̅̑ą̵̢̖̋s̷̟̜̄͆s̶̢̬̄m̸͎͗̈́́e̸̘̩̒̋f̷̝̦̟͆ũ̴͚̖̤r̶̙̫͒͝t̸̘͓̾͗͝ḩ̴̫͔̏̒ȇ̶̪̳͠d̶̳̆͂o̶͈̣͊̈́͐ņ̴̼̾’̵̨̆͂t̷̠̺͒̾̔ę̷̯̮̅̓m̸̪̑ͅb̷͇͐͑a̶̩͛̇ͅr̴̢̟̰̄͝r̸̞͙͎͑̅a̶̓̋̃ͅs̴̹͍͋̅̉s̷͓͓͎͒̆̐m̴̹̮͙̃e̶̲͗͠f̷̨͇̐́u̶̫͆̿̉r̶̰̗͑̾t̵̨̼͉͊͘h̸̻͔̥̎̒e̴̲̍̚r̷̺̘̆d̷̟̀̌̃õ̴̲̬̕n̸̡̕’̷̨̭̘̽t̶̛̼̀ë̸͉̲̂ḿ̶͚̌̚ḇ̸͇̗̿̏ȃ̶͖̥͔̿͑r̶̲̝̣͗̅r̴̖͖͘͝a̶͚͉͚͝s̴͎̘͑s̶͙̲̜̾̚m̵̨̧͒̈ẽ̵̱f̶̯̓̑̀ủ̶͍ȑ̵̻̼̍͒͜t̸̞͕͐̉̚h̵̺͐e̷̟̠̪̅͑́r̷̹̔͠d̶̯̼̫͒̑̅ȏ̴͎n̵̹̯̈͗’̷̢͋ṯ̵͓̈́ȅ̸̠ṃ̶̲̓b̸̘̻̈̆͜͝ä̷̢́̈r̴͍̫̐̌r̷̞̂͐͑à̵̛̤̌s̶̠̟̃ş̸͍̜́m̵̰͋̏̈́ë̴̬́f̵̝͈̋̄̚u̶͉͉͇͂̓r̴͚̉̎t̴̹̤͆ȟ̸͔͔̈́ė̶̹͆d̸̟̫͆̈́ő̸̲̔͠n̸̠̈́͌’̴̮̏̂̏t̷̩̦̓̿͒e̵͉̲̰̽̿m̶̡̛b̸͓̥͙͋ă̵̭̈́r̶͓̓͐r̵̤̮̾̌a̴̗͒͘s̸̫̉̆̀s̵̠̉͝m̸̪̗͛̽e̸͈͒̔f̶̺̟͂́u̷̢̧͈͐r̵͉͚̈́͝ẗ̴͚̹͉́̋́h̵͈̰̥̔d̷̟̉ͅo̶̩̟̺̍̒̾ṇ̴͋̾’̶̟̣̓̚ť̵̳̩e̵̡̼͛m̷͉̺̈́b̶̢̙̝͌a̶̳̟̐͠r̶͉̅̿ŕ̶̞̌̃a̶̠̿̊̽ͅs̸̡̨̩̽ş̶̯͎̃̀̈́m̵͙͓̦̍́e̸̠͍̳̽̆f̷͔͛̈́u̴͉̻͂̆͒r̴̥̩̀̑̋ṭ̶͔̯̊̂ḣ̵̡̭̰̔͆ễ̵͎̚r̷̝͔̙̀d̴͈͕͔͊ȍ̴̅̓ͅn̷͙̈’̴̪̜͎̓̈́͠t̴̝̾̚e̵͇̭͐ḿ̵̙̊b̷̧̝͆͛̔ͅa̴̗̲͒͠r̷͉͍̹̀́r̶̨͎̤̄a̶̙͔̳̾́͐s̸̳͑s̴̨͆͆̀ṃ̸̏̕͠è̴͎̻͆̚f̷͎͇̀ͅu̶͔̺͌̏̊͜r̷̩̂͗t̸̝̓̏h̶̠͉̏͝ȩ̷̬̣̈r̵̼̍ď̵͔̊o̵̡͉̣͑͂͒n̵̜̋́’̵̠̈́ͅṭ̷͛͝͝e̸̮͆m̷͚̈̃͊b̵͚͐͊a̷͈̲̘͛͆̚ŕ̵̻̦̘̓͠ŕ̵̹̭̈̎a̷̻̺̫̍͝s̶̜̠̹͑s̴̼̈́m̵̯̏ĕ̷̲̯̣f̵̹͔̍͝ų̸̤͌̿̀r̵̨͓̳̽͝t̵͉̟̃̐h̴̘̰͖̓͛e̵̺̽͠r̸̡̟̻̒̈́

_

“NO!” You shout, covering your ears with your palm to drown out his scalding voice.

Jungkook finally stopped talking, watching you cave into yourself on the chair in front of him. He would’ve done something if his hands weren’t tied down to the table. You looked so fragile and pained, it reminded him of himself in those days. This was the very look you had on after your father whispered something to you all those years ago. As he thought, he was always right about you.

You both were the same.

“_-”

“Shut up!” You scream, clenching your eyes shut and trying to erase the image of the car from your mind. “Just shut the fuck up!”

“You had no choice, ___.” He continued, his voice softer than before, “You had to drive off.”

“No I…” You look back up at the man in front of you through hard blurry tears, trying not to choke on your words. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t- I promise dad…I did- i-it was an accident…”

“___...I know. It was you father who broke your spirit. It was the world that crushed your soul. They drove you mad, doll. They made you a sinner.”

You say nothing as the tears continue to fall, getting lost inside his bottomless pools.

“You drove off and left the family there. But he didn’t.”

He?

“That kid you never noticed…the kid who would’ve done anything for you.”

His response further tethers you into confusion. You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“That kid who only looked at you. He was right behind you that night.”

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine.

_

The kid was only slightly older and less miserable that night.

He was involved with every bad name in that town, aka his late father’s acquaintances. They provided him a new shelter, transportation and a means to earn food, as long as he did their bidding. Crime was a lot more organized than he would have ever thought. It was a hard life, but he was learning to survive. Committing small acts here and there for big games. No longer was he some petty thief who stole in desperation, he was a kid with so much blood on his hands that he couldn’t even stand looking at them

There were nights where he would have these dreams about ruling over an empire, of being feared and respected and every time he took a life, those dreams seemed closer to his bloody grasp. Although he hated taking orders, he became obedient to the never-ending pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to move up the ladder, but it would be a while till he could see a light.

Throughout this struggling livelihood, he did have one small, precious source of sun in his life. You.

Anytime he could, he would come watch you. Sometimes just small glimpses to get him through the day. Watching you on a stake out, prance around town, or just lounge about in your room. It was the most dangerous thing he did since you were a cop. Every time he went to you, he risked everything, but he was extra careful. There were times where he almost got caught, like the time he was masturbating in your bushes as you walked around with a towel on – don’t look so disgusted, he was just a dumb kid – but thankfully you never did find him. On the contrary, you helped him build all the stealth he’d need for his future.

In some ways, he thought of you as the better half of him. A person whose existence was nothing but a cause for regret, yet you didn’t let that corrupt you, unlike him. You were better than him – righteous and kind. Deep down inside, you were who he wanted to be.

Now that he was free of that monster’s grasp, he would imagine walking up to you as a free kid man. Wondering if you would remember him. He didn’t know what he would say, if there was anything at all he could have told you. It was a yearning he didn’t understand, he was just too young and unsettled.

The kid was content with watching you from far away because he knew he wasn’t worthy of you. It still didn’t stop him from being utterly in love with the thought of you alone.

That night he saw you leave the station. He observed you outside the bar’s window getting wasted. There was a strange feeling he had that night as you left a drunk mess, stumbling towards your 2012 Hyundai Accent and rushing out of the parking lot. The kid would soon learn to always trust his instincts.

He was driving right behind you, making sure he kept his distance. You were one hell of an officer, no doubt. Nevertheless, you were too out of it that night to tell anyone was tailing you. It all happened too quickly. The clumsy driving, the crash, and the aftermath. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw you skid, pressing his own break as hard as he could. But you were able to stop before you crashed into anything, much to his relief.

The kid was trying to think about what he could do. You weren’t too hurt, were you? Should he come out and help you? He didn’t even care about the other car, just observing you in the far distance. As he continued to think, he decided he would come out and see if there was any way he could help you.

And as soon as he clicked his door open, he watched you do something he never would have imagined.

He saw you drive off.

It took a minute to realize what just happened. And the kid had always been observant, so he knew exactly what you were thinking. For the first time that night, he looked over at the other car.

These people could destroy you. Everything you have worked so hard for. He knew exactly why you had to leave. But he couldn’t do something like that. The kid had to help you, just like you did for him at one point.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He drove up to the edge where their car hanged halfway. There were people yelling from inside, he could hear children. The car began blaring their horn as soon as they saw him drive up.

He drove up really close, close enough that his bumper banged against theirs.

_

Your mind was a blank state.

“He pushed them off.” Jungkook finishes off calmly.

You let out the breath you were holding, your bottom lip quivering softly. “Is…is that why-”

“Yeah. That’s why when you came back a minute later…they were gone.”

They were gone. Everything was as clear as day. You remember driving off, rushing even harder than before as you cried your heart out. It was such a stupid and rash decision – so fucking stupid. Half a minute later, you stepped on the break once again. As your car came to a halt, all you could hear were your sobs and the immobile engine. Your body hurt, everything hurt so, so, so much.

Was it worth it? Is gaining your father’s love worth killing someone over? Slowly, you glanced at the rear view mirror. Looking at the girl with swollen eyes. She wasn’t someone you recognized. The promise to serve and protect rings in your ears. All you were in this moment, was a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve anyone’s praise if this was your reality, you didn’t deserve anyone’s pity.

It was really dark out, and you found the slightest comfort in the world’s shadow. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears. It didn’t work – it was useless. All worth nothing.

Which is why you screamed out on the top of your lungs, banged your fists against the wheel before turning your car back around.

No matter what happens…you had to save them.

And you tried to. Within a minute, you were back where you before. But once you got there, that one place you’d never forget – those shrubs, the cliff, that road – they were gone. You got out, looking around, hoping that the family survived. The cliff itself was too high and the night was too dark to see below. Pulling at the strands of your hair, screaming out ‘hello?’, you appeared mad.

Till this day you don’t know if it was your gut instinct or an entity bigger than you that gave you a sign, if not the newspaper a few days later, you just knew they were dead. You fell to your knees – a broken woman. Not having any idea of those dark eyes that cried along with you that damned night.

Not until now.

Jungkook was the one who killed them, but how much does that change, really? It was still you who drove off, still you who left them in his hands. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sound of the interrogation room’s door cranking open. The man opposite you kept his eyes unflinchingly on you, waiting for this all to come to an end.

The last thing you felt was something heavy against the back of your head before you fell unconscious.

“Shit- that was so hard you bastard, I told you to use the chloroform shit.” Jungkook shouts at the man holding the gun’s handle.

“I couldn’t fucking find it, I told you that at the house, kid. Besides, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine.” The man puts the barrel back in his holster before ripping his badge off his belt and throwing it aside.

“Shut the fuck up and uncuff me, Jimin.”

The blonde sighs, grabbing his keys from his back pocket.

“Tells me to infiltrate a police department, forces me to befriend and stalk some random cop girl, makes me hang out with those pigs. Fucking prick.” Jimin murmurs under his breath as he paces over and unlocks the shackles on said prick.

Jungkook winces, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around to get some circulation going. Then he stretches his neck before standing up and dusting his pants. Fuck, this chair was uncomfortable. He points at some fresh blood staining the elder’s chin, prompting him to wipe it off.

“So, what’s the situation outside?”

“Me and Kane took care of all of them. We took our time with Hyun, like you wanted. Now Kane’s waiting in the van for us.”

“Good.” Jungkook nods, looks like everything went according to plan. He glances over at your limp form and walks up to where you sat insentient. With a huff, he got on his knees so he could see your face up close, like he’s always wanted to.  

“I can’t believe this day is here.”

Jimin looks between you both. “What are you gonna do with her?”

The younger cups your cheek. “You know I was ecstatic that night. I was…fuck, I never thought you could be with me. But that night, you proved that you were meant to be mine. And I waited so long for this moment. This moment where I could introduce myself to you as your equal. It’s why I was out on that mill this morning, detective. I wanted to meet you so much that it hurt.”

…That wasn’t an answer to his question but Jimin knew not to further bother his boss. There probably was a lot he had planned for you, but he wasn’t going to say it. No one ever really knew what this kid was thinking, anyway. He was a cryptic bastard.

Jungkook turns towards Jimin and extends his free hand out to him. Without being asked, Jimin reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the old handkerchief. His boss usually didn’t go this long without holding it. He places it into the younger’s hand without a word.

Turning back around, Jungkook places the cloth right underneath your shut eyes. He gently wipes away the tears leaking out.

“No one will ever hurt us again, doll.” Jungkook whispers before standing back up.

He places the handkerchief back in his own pocket and moves in to pick you up bridal style. Safely tucking you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He orders Jimin who nods before opening the door of interrogation room 4.

___

This is absolute trash :))) I hope ya’ll enjoy tho. Lemme know what you thought, srsly because this fic stepped out of a certain comfort zone for me. I am absolutely open to part 2 if ya’ll want. if there is something you’re curious about, ask away.

[glitxhwayventeen]

Ghostin

Seungkwan: Chapter 2 (A Little Bit Of Your Heart)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst (a shit ton of sadness honestly), semi-unrequited love, death mentions, implied genocide, runaway mates, family fighting, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: Hi Friends! I recommend listening to Just A Little Bit of Your Heart by Ariana Grande. I think it sets a good mood to this chapter. Well not good mood, but it helps give you an idea of how I want you to feel towards the end f it.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

Ghostin Master List

Chapter 2: A Little Bit Of Your Heart

Over the next week, you continued to have nightmares about your past mate. Sometimes it was the memory of his dying, other times it was a completely unrealistic portrayal of terror with him leading the charge. Each time Seungkwan would dutifully come to your aide and hold your through your ordeal, kissing your head and rocking you back and forth like a baby. Sometimes, you’d lay your palm on him somewhere on his body and you’d suck him right into the dream you were having.

He couldn’t lie, seeing you so upset over another man was destroying him, but he loved you. He knew you’d eventually get over it, or at very least not be so upset over it. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. But every dream he was thrown into with you made that thought dwindle more and more. He could see how much you loved your past mate still. Everytime you smiled at the other wolf, it broke something in him. Everytime you threw yourself into his arms and begged him to never let you go, he’d wake up the next morning, dart out the door and run into the nearby woods and cry until his throat bled.

He wasn’t like his brothers and how they were with their mates issues, he couldn’t keep up his brave face for long. He couldn’t help but let your past bother him. No matter how much he tried, it always affected him. He was just too emotional a person to have your situation not hurt him. He wanted your attention and love solely for himself. It was just his instincts.

He was never good at controlling them to begin with, but when you came around, what little self control he had went out the window. He couldn’t help but be jealous and angry. He couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his face every night when he was holding you, hushing you back to sleep. He knew your heartache wasn’t for him. It was killing him. But he would NEVER let you know that. It wasn’t your fault this was happening anymore than it was his. He just wished you would see him rather than want your old partner.

His brothers were all very concerned for him. He was having trouble eating, sleeping, and just being his general happy little self. It was like he was a hollowed out shell. They wanted him happy, but they knew confronting him on it would just upset you, which would in turn, further hurt him. They knew it wasn’t really something you could control, they just wished that you two could get to your happily ever after already. You had started to notice how much of a toll you had taken on him too…

You woke up that morning in Seungkwan’s arms, a ritual to which you had become accustomed to. You felt safe with him, which you knew was probably only because of the mate pull, but you decided that you liked his naturally protective nature regardless. You had began to really enjoy being around him. He did everything he could to make you happy. He always made you laugh. He never let you say an unkind word about yourself. You had started to developed some very strong feelings for him. He was still out cold, he must’ve been exhausted trying to keep up with your horrible sleeping habits.

You nuzzled your nose into his bare chest and whimpered out, signaling to him that you wanted him to wake up. Of course, it worked and within seconds his precious eyes had shot open to check on you. The whites in them were dulled and their usual sparkle had lost their shine. You felt bad that you had done this to him, he looked so worn out that you couldn’t help but let another whine escape your lips. His hair was greasy and unkept, his skin was pale and the bags under his eyes had become prominent, even his voice had started to lose it’s cheery edge that you loved so much. You did this to him. And you absolutely hated yourself for it.

“What’s wrong baby? Is everything alright?” He quickly stated as he shook his head to wake himself up. Despite his tiredness, you were still the only thing he cared about.

“Y- Yeah, I’m okay. I just feel bad s’all” you mumbled against his hand that had found itself on your cheek as he looked at you with a great worry on his face.

“Why do you feel bad baby?” He questioned, bringing your face to his and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“That you’re suffering cause of me. I’m sorry” you spoke to him with watery eyes. Shit.

“I’m not suffering baby” Liar. He lied to you as he hushed you, laying his forehead against yours as he started to rub your temples softly., “I’m just a little tired is all.” Well, that one at least wasn’t a complete lie.

“Because I won’t let you sleep.” You finally sobbed out and threw your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I keep trying to stop. I- I keep trying to take him off my mind, it just- it just doesn’t work. I don’t now what to do! I’m so fucking sorry!” You wailed before he pulled you into his chest, rocking you back and forth like he had the previous night.

“Shhhh… It’s alright baby. I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me alright. It’s my job to worry about and help you. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.” He tried to assure you, failing miserably.

“I’m supposed to care for you too. And I haven’t been. I’m sorry” you let the tears freely fall before Seungkwan used his thumbs to sweetly wipe them away and forced you to look up at him.

“Baby, look at me, I’m okay. I’m just a little tired. But I’ll be alright. It won’t be like this forever, just a little while longer, okay? You don’t need to waste your pretty little tears on me. I’m a big strong wolf. I can handle myself.” He said a little too confidently, causing you to let out a chuckle at his joke.

“See, there’s my girl. Now hurry up. Breakfast is gonna be ready any minute and if we’re not down there, we won’t be getting any.” He kissed your nose and jumped to his feet, grabbing one of his shirts on the floor in the process. He took your hand and pulled you up out of bed, making his way to his bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The scene in front of you after you reached the bottom of the staircase caused a grin to appear on your lips. All the boys had gathered around the kitchen table and were conversing loudly with each other. You had missed being with a big family, it was nice that now, thanks to Seungkwan, you had one again.

“Morning guys!” Seungkwan chirped as he sat in an empty chair, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you to sit on his lap, making you blush slightly as you weren’t yet used to that type of PDA yet.

“Morning kids!” Mingyu chuckled aloud towards you both as he put Chan in a headlock, fighting for the last piece of bacon on the porcelain plate in front of them.

“How’d you sleep last night Seungkwan?”Jihoon questioned bluntly, his gaze going straight to Seungkwan, completely ignoring your existence.

It wasn’t unusual for him to do that, he was one of the wolves who were closest to your mate. And though he wanted his brother to be happy, he didn’t like the fact that you were still hung up on your old mate. So he gave you a bit of the cold shoulder whenever he could. You didn’t really mind. You understood his anger and thought he had every right to dislike you. The other boys didn’t like seeing their brother so torn up, but they didn’t blame you for it. Just Jihoon.

“We slept just fine, thanks!” Seungkwan put on a fake mile to answer the older wolf’s question, knowing full well that he meant to disclude you. He didn’t like Jihoon’s attitude toward you and he did whatever he could to show him that he wanted him to stop.

“I didn’t ask about BOTH of you, I asked about YOU. How did YOU sleep? Did she force you to stay up again?” Jihoon sneered out while scowling at you.

“Hyung, knock it off. She didn’t ‘force’ me to do anything. You know that. I stayed up because I WANTED to.” Seungkwan shot back, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your heart beat speed up anxiously.

“Right.” Jihoon added, “because you just LOVE not sleeping for days on end.” He rolled his eyes before huffing, setting his eating utensil down with a loud clank sound.

“Would you back off already!” Seungkwan jolted up, setting you in his place on his chair before leaning over the table to get in the older boy’s face.

“She can’t help her nightmares! But you can help being an asshole!” He growls out, nostrils flaring and eyes turning red with anger.

Jihoon stood up from his chair, pushing it back with a loud screech before slamming his hands down onto the wood table. The noisy bang when he hit the table was enough to jolt you up from your chair.

“I’ll stop being an asshole when she stops playing with your feelings! All you want is Just A Little Bit Of Her Heart and she won’t give you anything more than exhaustion and heartbreak!” He yells out, chest puffing up and down with rage.

The other boys in the house had quickly gathered their mates and had taken them to their respective rooms, fearing for their safety in the event of a fight. All that remained in the kitchen with you three were the mateless Minghao, the nosey Soonyoung, and the Alpha Joshua.

You stood there in complete shock, not really knowing what to do. If you spoke up, you’d only make Jihoon’s anger toward you worse. But if you didn’t, your mate might attack him. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you looked between the two arguing wolves. Seungkwan sensed your emotions through his anger and turned his eyes to you for a moment. He could see how much his brother’s words were affecting you, so he decided to get you out of there before things got worse.

“Joshua Hyung, can you please take (Y/N) back up to my room? She doesn’t need to deal with his bitchy attitude anymore than she has to!” Seungkwan snarled Jihoon’s way as he pleaded with the only Alpha available to get you out of the current situation.

You weren’t as helpless as the other mates, you were a wolf too, after all. You weren’t even scared of Jihoon, he was only a few inches taller than you in your human forms. In your wolf forms, you’d even be the bigger one out of the two of you. But everyone in the pack knew you didn’t like to fight. You’d rather get beaten bloody than potentially harm someone else with your strength, even if they had started it, you’d never continue it.

But Seungkwan was worried for you. Jihoon had, on occasion, started and finished some pretty gnarly fights. He didn’t want him to try and lunge at you. And he definitely didn’t want his brother to end up hurting you. He would protect you if he needed to, but he’d rather you be taken away from the situation to prevent it as much as possible.

Joshua nodded at your mate before he took your wrist in his hand and began to head towards the stairs to bring you back to your room. It was his job as Alpha to try and keep the peace, but his most urgent job right now was to make sure you, a mate, didn’t get hurt.

“Why would you try to send her away?? She needs to hear this! She should know what she puts you through everyday! She should know she’s killing you and that we’re all pissed at her for it!” Jihoon growls toward you, causing your mate’s fangs to slightly elongate at the older wolf as he did his best to keep his inner wolf from showing.

“Don’t you dare talk to her that way.” Seungkwan coldly said, moving to stand in front of your fleeting figure, blocking you from the older wolf’s view.

“My God! She could at least TRY to hide her pathetic little feelings for a dead guy when you’re around! But she doesn’t! Because she doesn’t love you like she loved him. Wake up Boo! She never has and she never will!” Jihoon jabs his pointer finger into your mate’s chest.

“Why can’t you fucking see through her stupid shit? She’s not worth you destroying yourself!” Jihoon screamed at his younger brother while staring up at the younger wolf, practically drilling holes into his eyes with the amount of fury he was exhausting.

Joshua had tried to pull you upstairs again once the two wolves had gotten closer to each other. The other boys in the room moving into position to prevent the arguing wolves from hurting each other, a sure fire sign that something was going to happen. But you managed to wiggle your arm from his grip. You jetted your way back to the center of the kitchen before you spoke up.

“He’s right Seungkwan, I’m not worth this! You shouldn’t have to destroy yourself for me. I’ll leave!” You jump in, causing all the boys to stop their snarling at each other and turn to you in shock. What?

“W- What did you just say?” Seungkwan whispered, barely audible.

He tried to step toward you with his hand going out to try and reach your arm, causing you to jerk your should backwards. The sadness on his face was enough to make you want to fall to your knees and cry, but you had to remain strong for this. You caused enough damage to their pack. You wanted the boys to all get along again, you wanted things to go back to normal for them, but most of all, you wanted Seungkwan to stop tearing himself apart because of you.

“I said I’ll leave. This isn’t fair to your pack, and it’s sure as shit not fair to you. I’m killing you, and you don’t deserve this.” You say weakly, trying your best to hold back your imminent tears.

“But- But you’re my mate… You- You can’t just leave me… I- I can die if if you go.” Seungkwan sobbed, streams of hot liquid cascading down his cheeks.

You stepped in front of him, quickly cupping his face with your small hand and smiling defeatedly.

“No. You won’t Seungkwan. You have a family who love you enough to tell you the harsh truth, they won’t let you die on them. They love you more than you could ever imagine, Trust me on that. I know you’ll be okay because you’d never leave them when they need you as much as they do. You’ll be okay. I need to leave so you can be happy again.” You speak with shimmering eyes, tears forming at your water lines at the thought of losing him.

Last time you lost a mate, you wanted to die. Hell, you tried to die, more times than you can count. But the thought of losing Seungkwan felt like you already were dead. Your heart felt like it had disappeared from your chest and the air had evaporated from your lungs. Every morsel of your soul ached. But you had to do this, you had to do this for him. He deserved better.

Seungkwan stood there quietly crying his eyes out as you held his fragile face. The boys frozen around him were but a distant memory as he looked into your eyes and tried to find something to say, anything to say, to try and make you stay with him. But all he could do was take the hand you had against his cheek in his and snuggle into it, trying his best to memorize the sensation with everything he had in him.

“Please…” He mustered out, looking at every inch of your beautiful face as if it were the last time he would ever see it. For all he knew, it was.

You moved onto your tippy toes and gave his lips a loving peck before moving yourself back down, a tear dropping down the side of your face in the process.

“Jihoon was wrong on something you know. I do love you Seungkwan, more than I’ll ever love anything in this world.” You let out a small laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, not wanting you to go.

You dropped your hand to his face and let it hit your side right as you made your way for the front door. You reached for the doorknob and turned, pulling it open before you stepped outside and closed it.

You looked back at the house with fondness before shifting into your wolf form and sprinting full speed into the deep forest, leaving Seungkwan and the other boys standing paralyzed with shock inside.

(Updated 8/7)

[its-a-novelist-girl]

Never Have I Ever

Summary: A virgin, 20-year-old Damian with too many trust issues to let a girl get too close is constantly teased by his brothers for spending so much time with his female best friend, Y/N. During a game of never have I ever, Y/n is shocked to find that her incredibly good looking best friend has never had more than a brief kiss. Y/n starts to think and she might have a proposition that Damian can’t say no to. 

(Disclaimer/Notes): I own nothing of DC characters. This will be partly comic cannon and partly my own. I have never posted like this on here so please be patient with me as I learn. 

(Tags): @theyellowfeverexperience​, @ginevraxrogers​, @lilsxtan​, @idkmanicantenglish​, I’m sorry if I missed anyone! 

Rules to Never Have I Ever. A person says something they have never done or experienced, if the other players have done it they put a finger down, if they have also not done the thing they leave their fingers up. 

It was Tuesday night at Gotham public library, and your group was slowly but surely losing all focus at the task at hand. A small thud took your tired eyes from your book, to look across from you where the sound had come from. Alex, one of your project partners, had his head face down in an open book, and groaned loudly. 

“Ok my brain is at max capacity, I can’t do it anymore,” his voice came out slightly muffled by the book pressed to his face. You chuckled and shook your head, but you had to agree with him, you had all been there for four hours and desperately needed a break. You stretched and slumped back into your chair to look over at your best friend Damian, who was intensely focusing on his book.  

You met when you transferred to Gotham prep a few years ago and when Damian figured out you could care less about his money and fame, he, of course, a bit reluctantly, took the opportunity to make a friend that might actually genuinely like him for who he was. Spoiler alert you did like him and you quickly became best friends. After you graduated you both enrolled in Gotham University, taking whatever classes you could together, which lead to this mind-numbing project. 

“Let’s play never have I ever,” Tina suggested from her place in the chair next to Alex. Alex’s head shot up at that and responded, “Alright, put em up.” 

Three hands shot up, elbows resting on the table, fingers up. You looked over to Damian, and when he still didn’t look up from his book, you asked 

“Dami, don’t you want to play?” 

He took a deep sigh, one you knew was just to be dramatic, and raised his hand but refused to stop reading, and honestly, you called it a win. 

“Never have I ever fell from a tree.” You and Damian both put a finger down and you ignored the flicker of his eyes from his book to you in shock.

 Everyone took turns and after a few games, eventually, it was left with Tina with three fingers up, Damian with two, and you and Alex each had one. Tina was trying to think of one that would knock you both out of the game, and you raised an eyebrow at her when she grinned suddenly. 

“Never have I ever had sex,” She said smugly, and you threw a paper wad at her as Alex groaned, “Oh come on, not fair.”

You laughed and glanced over at Damian’s hand, which still had two fingers up. 

Suddenly he met your gaze, closed his hand into a fist, and said: “Come on Y/N, it’s late and we should both be getting home.” With that, he stood with a grace you envied and started packing his bag. You did the same and after saying farewell to your other partners, headed to his car. 

---------- 

You leaned back against the comfortable leather seats as you watched Gotham’s streets pass out the window. Damian, of course, was driving you home from the study session. You turned your head to look at him, studying how the light from the dash illuminated his features. How it casts shadows on his face that makes him look like the Son of the Demon he was trained to be. 

You had found out about Damian’s secret identity a year ago when he rescued you from getting mugged walking home one night. It was his eyes that gave him away in the end. He looked at you straight in the eyes and you could see the flicker of panic as he then checked you over for injures before his masked expression fell back into place. You asked him to walk you home, pulled him inside, and demanded to know if Robin was Damian Wayne. He had laughed and hugged you saying how grateful he was that you figured it out and he wouldn’t have to lie to you anymore. Since then you had spent more time at the manor, befriending his family and spending times with his brothers (much to Damian’s dismay). Damian even opened up a little about his childhood over a bottle of far too expensive wine he had stolen from a gala.  

Your mind wandered back to the library. Could it really be possible that the gorgeous man beside you had never had sex?  

“Can I help you, Y/N ?” he asked not looking away from the road and the corners of his mouth twitched up when you jumped a little in your seat. 

“Have you actually never had sex?” you blurted out before you lost your nerve. 

Damian whipped his head to look at you to make sure he had actually heard you right, eyes wide in surprise. He gapped at you before turning his attention back to the road, breathing deeply before saying 

“No, if you must know I have never had more than a brief kiss from a teenage socialite at a gala I was forced to attend,” he muttered, trying to sound intimidating so you’ll drop the subject. He looked back at you and your shock must have shown. 

“Why is that so shocking to you?” he demanded, switching between looking at your face and the road, his cheeks reddening under your constant gaze. Still, you could see past the wall he was trying to place up, he was embarrassed. This was something you were not expecting, you made Damian “I don’t have feelings” Wayne embarrassed. 

“Oh come on! Have you seen yourself!” The words pour out of your mouth before you could stop them, and suddenly it was your cheeks turning red. You turned to look at the road as you both let the silence take over, as soon as you were sure Damian wouldn’t comment on what you said you heard him whisper into the silent dark night. 

“I don’t trust anyone enough to ever be that vulnerable with them.” 

Now that was something you had never considered as you turned to look at him again. Damian was always incredibly private and while he had let down a few of his walls around you, you knew that had taken a long time. He was strong and could be scarier than Batman if he wanted to be, so knowing that being vulnerable terrifies him shocked you. You knew that his life with his mom wasn’t great and that he wasn’t incredibly close to his dad, so it made sense that he wasn’t used to being vulnerable with anyone. And yet here is this car with you, he talked to you about something that embarrassed him without fear you would tease him about it. Its how your friendship worked, you never expected anything more from Damian than to just be himself. 

“But you trust me, don’t you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking in a whisper that matched his own. 

He chuckled lowly and said, “You’re the exception, Y/N, not the rule.”. He pulled in front of your apartment building. He got out of the car to walk you to your door, something he has always insisted on doing because “come on Y/N this is Gotham.”. You both walked to your door in silence, only speaking to thank him for the ride and to ensure he text you when he got home. After he left you got ready for bed, crawled under your covers and stared up at the ceiling in thought. 

Damian Wayne, son of the biggest flirt in Gotham, has never had more than a kiss. The knowledge shocked you. He was gorgeous, build like a Greek god, with green eyes that could melt panties for miles. If you were completely honest you had admired his body more than once. Had thought of what it would feel like to run your fingers through his black hair, to feel his biceps that were bigger than your head. He has popped up in your dreams a couple of times; how could he not? Best friend or not, Damian Wayne was hot. 

Then another thought popped into your head. You were the only girl Damian trusted outside of his sisters. Now that you thought about it you realized how true that was, he had never allowed another girl to get very close to him. You were the only girl that you knew of that was allowed to hug him on a regular basis. You were the only one allowed to call him Dami. Another thought popped into your head. If you were the only girl he trusted, maybe you could help your best friend out? 

----------

Damian was getting ready for bed, after checking in on his father and Tim patrolling and making sure his assistance wasn’t required. Tim had made a snide remark about his study date with you, calling you his girlfriend for the millionth time. After the boys had met you, the teasing only got worse. Sometimes having older brothers sucked, he thought to himself as he remembered the countless times every one of his older brothers gave him crap about having you as his best friend. Tim and Jason were the most vocal but Dick tended to tease him when they were alone. Although none of them ever teased him in front of you. It was an unspoken rule amongst everyone because they knew how much your friendship meant to him. 

Damian settled into his bed with a book he had been meaning to read and tried not to think of how he embarrassed himself in front of you today. He had been hoping that you wouldn’t catch that he hadn’t put his finger down but of course you noticed. How was he exposed to explain to you that he was terrified of letting his guard down? That being naked in front of another person in such an intimate way was something that he wasn’t sure he would ever let himself relax enough to enjoy. He was trained as a child to not show weakness, to not let anyone be able to get the upper hand. He knew his mother seduced men to kill them before, so what would stop anyone else from trying it. Getting him in an exposed and vulnerable position to exploit. 

If he was being honest with himself though, the only girl he truly found fascinating was you. He loved the way you moved, clumsily compared to his trained gracefulness. He loved that you didn’t care his father was famous. He loved that you were smart enough to realize he was Robin and never once judged him about the questionable things he has done in his past. Not to mention you were beautiful and that his mind had wandered many times before he gets control of himself. He wondered what your bottom lip would feel like under his thumb. He wondered if all your skin was as soft as your hands. He wondered what it would feel like to hold you close and nuzzle his face into your neck. 

A buzzing sound next to him drew his attention away from his book. He put the bookmark in place before closing it next to him and picking up his phone. In all of his life, Damian has had many shocking things happen. He would count this in his top five.

[ranger-of-estel]

Deckerstar (friendship or OTP, I'm feeling angst) + “She’s at the hospital. I—I don’t know what happened.”

“She’s at the hospital. I—I don’t know what happened.” Deckerstar - Established (alternate S5 where Lucifer got to come back without Michael ever being involved)

 So...this one got away from me. And honestly I have at least double this amount in my head for a continuation on this. But if I wait until I have time to write all of it then it’s more of a short story than a prompt fill, so I finally decided to cut it here.

First time writing these characters, so here’s hoping I didn’t butcher them.

~~~~~~~~~

               They are at the precinct, Ella updating them with what she’s found on their most recent case. Chloe stepped out for a call, and conversation slips to local events while they wait for her to return.

               “I’m just saying,” Ella points at him with a thin piece of metal. “I’ve heard you perform, you’d sell out a concert.”

               “I am not disagreeing, Miss Lopez.” Lucifer shrugs, “but Lux stays quite full as it is.”

               “That’s not –” She cuts off as the door opens, “Chloe, tell Lucifer…” She frowns, voice suddenly concerned, “Chloe?”

               Lucifer turns to face his partner, a fear he hasn’t seen in their eyes since…”Trixie?”

               She nods, “The school just called. She’s at the hospital,” he voice cracks, “I don’t know what happened. All they’ll say is she fell and –”

               “Detective,” she takes a shuddering breath as he takes her hand. “That’s it.” He turns to Ella, “Miss Lopes, would you be so kind as to inform the Captain that Detective Decker has had a family emergency?”

               “Totally!” She comes around the table, pulling the detective into a tight hug. Ash she pulls away she looks up at him, “keep me posted.”

               He nods, “of course.” He follows as Chloe grabs her bag, waiting to take her arm until they are outside.

               “What are you doing?” Chloe glares as he leads her to the side of the precinct. “Lucifer, this isn’t the time for your theatrics.”

               “On the contrary, it seems like exactly the time.” He opens his wings, holding an arm out. “Even you can’t drive faster than an Angel flies.” He tilts his head, “unless you would rather deal with lunch hour traffic?”

               “No,” She allows him to tuck her into his side, arms around his neck as he grabs her by the waist. Her only warning is his grip tightening, and then they are moving. It’s all so fast she hardly has time to register, his hands steadying her as he lands in an ally.

               “Easy, Chloe.” Her hand goes to her head, which is spinning. “Unfortunately you humans don’t handle flight as well as we do.”

               “No kidding.” After another minute the spinning has stopped, she’s mildly nauseated but ignores it.

               “You go ahead,” he motions toward the hospital. Before she can protest he waves a hand dismissively, “I’m just going back for the car. You can hardly tell the Captain that the devil flew you to the hospital when if he asks why our cars were still parked.”

               She nods, “Lucifer!” she grabs his wrist, his wings dropping as he looks at her. “Thank you.”

               He softens, “you needn’t thank me, not for this.” He motions toward the building once more, “now go, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

               Once back to his car he breaks speed limits and a few traffic laws to get back to the hospital. Once he’s parked he makes his way to the front desk. “Trixie Decker,” he states before the young receptionist has time to speak.

               “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a Trixie in my system.” She replies with a frown.

               “Ah, my apologies dear. Try Beatrice Decker,”

               Another moment of typing and she nods to herself, “are you the father?”

               “No,” he shakes his head. “But she is….family.” There’s a sentence he’d never expected to say. The woman nods again, giving him the room number and brief directions.

               When Lucifer arrives Chloe is sitting next to the bed; Trixie is unconscious, a bandaged wrapped around her head. There’s a cold fury settling in his chest, but for now he buries the need to punish someone in favor of comforting his partner.

               Chloe looks up when he comes into the room, rising to close the distance between them. The fear has shifted into concern, a frown etched on her lips. “They think it’s a mild concussion.” She turns back to face the bed, arms crossing over her chest. “All the school rep said she fell.”

               “Was no one watching them? Didn’t anyone see what happened?” He asks, looking from Chloe to the child then back.

               “They don’t want to tell me anything other than they are ‘still gathering information.’” He assumes her tone is a direct mockery of the representative she’d spoken with. “Doctor said once she wakes up and they can run a few tests they’ll have a better idea of the extent of the damage…” her voice wavers, trailing off before she take a shuddering breath.

               “Hey,” he gently tugs at her wrist, Chloe instantly pushing into his chest as his arms wrap around her. “She’s a strong little creature…like her mother.” He rests his chin on the top of her head, “I suspect Trixie will be up and about in no time.”

               He waits until she begins to pull away to release her, reaching up to push loose hair from her face. She nods, giving him a weak smile. She reaches down, grabbing her phone as she takes another step away from him. “I should try and reach Dan again,” she runs a hand through her hair. “He’s camping and the school wasn’t able to reach him.”

               “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to go find where they sell caffeinated beverages.” He tilts his head, “Would you like anything?”

               “Actually, a coffee sounds amazing.” She smiles at him, and with a dip of his head he’s taken to the halls once more. It doesn’t take long for him to procure the coffees and a pastry. He stops in one of the waiting rooms, pulling out his own phone.

               He listens to it ring before finally there’s a female voice on the other side. “Hello?”

               “Doctor,” he greets. “I need your advice?”

               “Oh, um sure. What’s going on?” Linda asks, Charlie cooing in the background.

               “The Detec- Chloe’s daughter is in the hospital,” he’s suddenly cut off.

               “Oh my God Lucifier, what happened?” Linda’s voice has pitched and he sighs.

               “She apparently fell at school, they believe it’s a concussion.” He replies adding before she can cut him off once more. “I need to know how to help Chloe. All of my experience thus far has been her in the hospital, not someone she cares about.”

               Linda’s voice softens, “Lucifer, you’re already doing it. The best thing you can do for Chloe right now is be there to support her.” He hears Charlie begin to cry in the background, “look Lucifer, I have to go. But if there is anything you need just let us know.”

               “Of course. Thank you, Doctor.” He ends the call and after pocketing his phone grabs the drinks and pastry once more. It wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but at least looking out for his partner was something he knew he could do.

               When he makes it back to the room Chloe is in the bedside chair once more, some of tension leaving her shoulders when she sees him. “I thought you might be hungry,” he offers the iced muffin alongside her coffee.

               She accepts them gratefully, motioning to the seat beside her. “Dan is on his way, but it will be a few hours before he can get here.”  

               “Well, until dear Daniel can arrive…I’m not going anywhere.” He reaches out to rest his hand on her leg. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

               “Damn it, Lucifer.” Chloe’s voice wavers, and he watches as she rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. Before he can voice concern she continues, “you’re going to make me cry…”

               “I’m…sorry?” He’s not sure exactly how to proceed, thankfully she doesn’t give him time to question himself.

               “No,” she sets the coffee down so she can grab his hands with hers. “I just…you’re…” she takes a slow breath. “It means a lot, that you’ll stay.” Her gaze drops to their hands, “There are so many questions, and I’m terrified…but you.” She looks up to give him a small smile. “You’re like an anchor, keeping me steady.” She leans, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

               “As I said before, you needn’t thank me, love.” He runs his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve no intention of leaving you to handle things alone, not anymore.” He presses a ghost of a kiss to her crown, “besides, the little gremlin has grown on me.”

It pulls a laugh from her, and for now that is enough.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #465

“the old man then prepares to die regretfully  /  that old man here is me”

Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I had a guy who wouldn't leave me alone since pre-k. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? OMG I forgot about those!! I loved them!!! Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? AHHHHHHHHH yes!!! :') Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. My dresser was COMPLETELY covered in them. Who did you look up to most as a child? Steve Irwin, 100%. He was my hero. Did your parents let you drink soda when you were little? Some, yes. I wish they hadn't, with the dependency I have now. Did you ever watch The Powerpuff Girls or Dexter’s Laboratory? Of course! I strongly preferred the former, though. Did you watch Blue's Clues? HOW TIMELY. :'''') I did! My little sister and I loved it. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Just gimme a good 'ole double chocolate cake and I was one happy kiddo, ha ha. Did you ever want to grow up? Sure didn't. I was smart. How often do you listen to classic rock? It varies, really. Sometimes I'm in the mood for it and binge it, other times I want newer music. What about country? Just about never. What is the most amount of money you have ever lost? Not a whole lot. I'm very careful with money. Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? No. Whenever I did it in the past, it was always to relocate the pain I was experiencing, and because I felt like I deserved it. Last person to get on your nerves? I'd rather not give it the time of day. Are you in any pain right now? No. Last thing you ate? It was one of those chocolate chip Clif Thins things. I HATE every Clif product I've ever tried until these, so they're a good option if I really want something sweet that's actually decently healthy and doesn't taste like I'm eating pure fiber, like most of their products. Name three things apart from trust and loyalty that you need in a relationship. Open, honest communication, similar interests as well as morals, and pro-LGBTQ+, if I'm just naming three. How far away are you from the place that you were born? Like... not even ten minutes. Do you live near anybody who creeps you out? Nah. Then again though I know pretty much nobody in my neighborhood. Is there anywhere that you are too afraid to go to alone? Where? Hm. If for whatever strange reason I had to, I would absolutely not want to go into a men's restroom alone. Would you be upset if you had a child who decided to make “adult films?” Despite the fact I don't negatively judge porn stars if they are smart, cautious, an informed about what they do and how to stay safe... I think I'd be very, very scared if my child wanted that, especially if it was my daughter, because she can actually get pregnant. Yes, abortion's an option, but... still. I don't want her to have to be faced with that decision. I also would be terrified of my hypothetical son getting someone pregnant, especially because he's then not the one with say on what happens to that child. So ultimately, if I was ever in this situation, I feel like I'd need to be alone with my partner to just cry for a while and then talk with them and look at the situation factually and with regard for my child's happiness. What pizza topping would you never, ever, EVER eat? Sardines. /gag What annoys you most about your computer? The microphone is broken. Do you prefer to read blogs or watch vlogs? I'm not huge on either, but watch vlogs. Do you know anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas? No. Do you own a snowglobe? I wish I did, they cute. What was the last thing that upset you? It was more disappointing than upsetting, but I was nevertheless super bummed that my bf had to scoot us hanging out a day back today when I was v excited for it. What is something you are behind on? It sounds unbelievable, I know, but I am IMMENSELY behind with Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Like, I'm somewhere around four episodes in. It's so hard to explain: like, I want to watch it badly, but I don't want to set aside time to sit in front of the TV to actually do it? It makes very little sense. I'll catch up eventually, I just... haven't yet. Who DO you go to for advice when you need it? Mom, Sara, my therapist... Will you go caroling this year? God no. Never have, never will. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? Bro what the fuck, of course I would. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? Daughter. Did you get bullied more as a child, a teenager, or an adult? I'm very grateful that I was never truly bullied. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? FUCK YES. Are you allergic to your favorite animal? I wouldn't know; I've never been near one. :( What’s your favorite country besides the USA? Lol what a presumptuous question. Probably Africa. Did you get senior pictures taken? No, even though I wanted them. :/ I don't remember why I didn't? How often do you like to have sex? I don't care. Whenever it feels right. Are you any good at math? OH MY GOD NO Do you like Dairy Queen? I fucking love Dairy Queen. Ever had their Oreo Cupfection? *chef's kiss* If you had to get advice from someone of the opposite sex, who would you go to? Girt. Or my psychiatrist. Really depends. Does talking about sex make you feel uncomfortable? GODDAMN RIGHT IT DOES. Few things make me MORE uncomfortable. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Doctors. Dentists are ezpz for me. At the doctor, meanwhile, I'm scared of them finding something seriously wrong. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I've only met one, and that was YEEEEAAARRRRSSS ago. He was chill, though. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? omfg YES Do you enjoy board games? Not really. Do you need a haircut? I actually just got one the other day. It's shorter than I would've liked, but it's whatever. Hair grows back, and mine does fast. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? Yes. They've got the same right to be here as we do. What’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent completely alone? A week or two when my mom and sis went to the beach (I think?) for a dance competition. Have you ever been in a situation where you needed a lawyer? Yes, when I presented my disability case. Do you know anyone who has been evicted? My mom, sister, and me because we couldn't keep up with rent. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never tried one. How often do you have friends over to your house? The only "friend" that comes over to my house is my boyfriend. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? Front flips, yes; never back flips, because I was scared of breaking my neck. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Does your country have free healthcare? No, but it fucking should. What is your sexuality? Bro I don't even know anymore lmao. I just say pansexual. "Queer" might fit me best, though. I really don't know, but it doesn't really matter. What’s the last show you watched? Attack on Titan w/ Girt! I'm actually keen to see more of it. The darkness and heartbreak of it is right up my alley. How is your road rage? I don't really experience road rage because I'm too engulfed by terror to focus on anything else, honestly. Do you have any facial piercings? Yeah; I have a vertical labret in my lip. Have you ever been to a rehab center? So this is dumb as shit, but all the psych hospitals I've been to doubled as rehab centers. Which made NO goddamn sense because those who are suffering with mental illnesses leading to suicidal thoughts/tendencies are unique from those dealing with addiction; both require individual treatments and should not be grouped, imo. How long did your shortest relationship last? Not even a day. What would your life be like if you had married your first love? That's... scary to imagine. Sometimes, that was all I wanted. But seeing as he left because of my depression... it probably would have been catastrophic. He was the only person I ever wanted kids with, so there probably would have been children involved in all that madness, which no little one deserves. Him leaving ultimately led to my healing, too, so I don't know where I would've been mental health-wise if he stayed. What is the most difficult or time-consuming thing you’ve ever cooked? Would you make it again? I don’t cook. I need to learn, though... Have you ever had a platonic friend that everyone insisted you should be in a relationship with? He's my boyfriend now, ha ha ha. Is there anything about a person’s sexual past that might stop you from wanting to date them? Yes. I'm too lazy to get into that stuff rn, though. If someone asked your closest friends/family members what career path might suit you best, what do you think they would say? I'm almost certain they would all say veterinarian. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? Slow down buddy, we haven't even been together a month lmao. Who was the last person to make you a home-cooked meal? What did they make? Mom, but I don't recall the last thing she made from scratch. Girt is doing that tomorrow, though! :') He's making grilled chicken stuffed with jalapenos and spinach and something else I can't remember and it sounds BANGIN'. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Hmmm... I'll have to get back to ya on that. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I think someone has, yes. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? Yep. Who was the recipient of your very first kiss? Jason. Do you prefer shrimp or crab? SHRIMP. Crab is mushy and disgusting. Do you prefer fiction or non-fiction books/movies? I strongly prefer fiction. Have you ever seen an eclipse? Plenty of lunar eclipses, yes. Who is your favourite video game character? Pyramid Head, Spyro, Cynder... I have a lot, those three are just panning out as strong contenders. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? lol Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you felt nostalgic about? uhhh Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad. Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? OMG one time in his prime, Teddy got loose on a snowy night and went on a full-blown adventure. I was SOBBING. My dad had to chase him down. Do any of your exes know each other? Juan knows Jason, Jason knows Juan and Girt, and Sara knows Girt. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Vaccines cause autism." Fuck out my face. What was the very first election you voted in? This most recent presidential one.

[musingdistraction]

Falling for Whiskey (Agent Whiskey x Reader)

Hello Mr. Pascal lovers :D. I recently watched The Mandalorian and fell for Pedro’s sexy voice and protective dad ways. I've been looking for Pedro content and discovered the fics tag by chance... It's so much fun and your stories are great, so I wanted to contribute too, cause I have so many ideas and my imagination is running wild about Pedro these days, haha! Agent Whiskey is one of my favorite characters from him, so here I go. English is not my first language so excuse the mistakes. Hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: (3k words) You're a young Statesman agent and are assigned to a mission with Whiskey and Champagne. The initial dislike between you and Whiskey will turn into something very different later, since you are going to fall hard for each other. He’s tough on the surface but a real cinnamon roll deep down, and you are his weakness.

Warnings: +18 content, references to violence, SMUT.

After a short but impressive record of good results since you became a Stateswoman, your superiors had assigned you to a new mission. You needed to steal some key data from a drug gang which was suspected to have connections with arm traffickers and a terrorist group. Agents Whiskey and Champagne would be teaming up with you for the operation. You were not happy with the arrangement since the take-off meeting had been tense, and these guys didn't seem to be team workers at all. The agents had been distracted and mostly contradicting your ideas, mainly that damn Whiskey. You were even on the brink of starting an argument once or twice. The situation was not ideal and you couldn't wait to wrap up the mission, and hopefully getting a new assignment with new partners.

Your boss had provided the information about the target, an accountant of the mafia. The idea was to set up a distraction and steal some key data from his laptop without him noticing, so that would give you time to collect further proof of their activities before they could react. You followed the guy around for a couple of weeks, studying his daily patterns, his connections and meetings. Working with Champagne was more or less ok, but Whiskey was making things difficult. He was getting on your nerves, being surly and sometimes plainly puzzling. You were exasperated at his attitude, wondering what was the deal with the lone ranger. 

Finally the day came when you had planned to take action. You were supposed to act while the accountant was waiting for his boss in a restaurant, surrounded by some of the mafia thugs. It was not going to be easy. Whiskey and Champagne would keep them distracted. Then you would swap the laptop and leave a fake one. You would copy the data and later you would return the original laptop without them noticing. Things went wrong, however. All thanks to agent Whiskey and his seeming excess of testosterone. Instead of fulfilling his task, apparently he couldn't resist the first opportunity to attack the thugs and caused a ruckus, while the accountant fled the scene. You were frustrated, "This guy can't control himself, how are we going to succeed here?". But mostly you were bewildered since you had found that idiot to be quite hot during the fight. He was definitely fit and holding his whip in a skillful, sexy way..., you hated to be attracted to that type of guy.

It had been an epic fail that called for a group meeting where you all were scolded. Later that night you talked privately to your superior about the mission status, since you were not happy with the course of events. "Don't be too hard on Whiskey, the guy lost his pregnant girlfriend in a shooting not so long ago, with drug dealers involved. He hates them". "Then why did you assigned him to this mission?" you complained. "We want to give him a chance, he's a great asset to us and we need to know if he can overcome his trauma or we can't use him anymore". "Great" you thought, "so they are throwing us at this mess and expecting we handle this guy's issues too". You were not happy at all but also felt guilty for judging Whiskey so quickly while knowing nothing about him. You tried to imagine the pain of losing your girlfriend and a baby on the way...surely he had suffered a lot. No wonder he was easily provoked by the thugs earlier.

Next morning the team gathered in the headquarters in order to study the situation and decide the next step. You had to find another way to get the information you needed. At the beginning you were giving Whiskey the death stare and he didn't seem to know what to do or where to hide. But the truth is, after finding out what had happened to him, you saw Whiskey in a new light and couldn't be too mean. You wanted to make things work. However agent Champagne wasn't feeling so generous. At some point he casually dropped that you had suggested next time you and Champagne would do the fieldwork, while Whiskey would support from the office so he couldn’t mess up again. It was easy to tell that Champagne was joking from his mischievous smile, but Whiskey believed everything and started complaining, angry. You were amused and followed Champagne's ruse for a bit. Grumpy Whiskey was sort of cute and brought to your face a wide smile you couldn't hide. "Do you really think I would say that? We are a team. We have to do this together." He seemed pacified by your words and stopped complaining. Then, after some discussion on the operation details, you left the room a bit embarrassed since that smile might have been unintentionally too warm. Whiskey stayed there, looking thoughtful. And Champagne was still joking and laughing, maybe because he already caught that there was something going on between you and Whiskey? You were a bit upset though. You told yourself that the rough cowboy didn't care about the team or you, and you shouldn't let your guard down because of his sad story, that you needed to keep things professional...Only that was not really how you felt about him anymore.

Next day Whiskey dropped by your office and left you a document folder. He had been gathering intel about the drug mafia. The truth is he had been absent-minded and struggling since the beginning of the mission because he wasn’t sure about working for Statesman anymore…he was still quite depressed since his beloved girlfriend and their baby were taken from him. Then he had screwed up and that was a bit of a wake-up call, he didn’t want things to go that way. He actually liked his job and believed in the Statesman agency values. And there was a general change of mood in the team, with you suddenly smiling at him and all that, so he thought he should do something to contribute. You thanked him and devoted the afternoon to study the documents and review your action strategy. The guys you were facing were dangerous. You knew that the team needed to be solid in order to succeed, and that Whiskey needed to be fully on board. The guy was difficult to control and didn't like team work. You thought you knew what would take to make him change his attitude but it was difficult to take that step. After some internal struggle, you finally gathered enough courage to call him and ask for help. You asked him to elaborate on the documents he brought you and check the action plan together. Asking for help indeed seemed to operate some magic. His voice on the phone was soft when he said he was on his way to your office. He arrived quite fast. Then you sat together for several hours checking everything and discussing the details. It was a productive meeting. He actually helped and gave you good advice, and you gladly took it. His recommendations were quite clever. He seemed to be happy that you were noticeably impressed so he kept offering ideas, and you thought that was very cute of him. That night you stayed together until very late in the office, which you didn't mind since you were charmed by him. His masculine and honeyed voice lulled you and you found yourself once or twice checking his messy brown hair or his strong biceps showing through his shirt. When he casually touched your arm a couple of times to draw your attention, you felt the heat through your body. You wondered if he was aware of the effect his touch had in you. He wasn't, but he didn't miss how comfortable you were in his company or how you looked at him...and he definitely wanted more of it.

You worked on the plan together for a couple of weeks more, and things were looking good. The "team bonding" was going really well. So many hours spent with Whiskey had also an effect in you. You liked him more and more every day. He seemed to enjoy your newfound closeness and looked for you round the clock. He was very supportive and always helping. You felt he was being protective of you. One night you fell asleep during a stakeout, while you were spying on one of your suspects from a nearby apartment. You woke up later in one of the bedrooms, and Champagne casually said that Whiskey had carried you there, so you could get some rest. To know that he had taken such liberties with you and carried you in his arms…that made your heart race. The truth is Whiskey had awakened your female instincts in a way you never had felt before. He might seem tough at first sight but he had a soft side that just started showing, and you knew about his emotional scars. You were weak for him, maybe that strong but damaged guy in need for affection was your type after all? You wanted to take care of him, and that feeling intensified every time he was doing something nice for you. You felt the urge of giving him some love and taking care of him, and that included taking care of his needs as a man too...that very idea was enough to make your body temperature rise. You found him very manly, sexy, and suspected he was an expert and passionate lover. That made you fantasize about being with him and sometimes you were tempted to flirt, since he seemed to like you too. The circumstances were not the best for dating though, so you told yourself that you wouldn't act on your burgeoning feelings. Your determination proved to be weak though, since you couldn’t stay away from him. As for Whiskey, he found you very pretty and sweet when you didn’t had your guard up. He also thought of keeping the distance while working together, in order to not mess things up. However, what he wanted was to be around and protect you, and see your beautiful smile often.

A few days later, finally it was time to strike again and steal the files you were after. You had planned to get it from the office of one of the gang managers. Since the operation was taking place at a social club from the mafia, that gave you a perfect excuse to put on a sexy, revealing dress. You wanted Whiskey to look at you of course. When you arrived to the meeting point, he was there waiting with Champagne. He carelessly said that the group was not supposed to attract attention, while giving you a quick look from head to toe that gave you butterflies in the stomach. You were a bit embarrassed and blushing while reminding him that you were heading to a posh club so the dress was ok but the cowboy hat maybe not. Then you rushed to the car. When arriving at the club, your group stopped at the bar to check who was there, and Champagne ordered some drinks. You didn't know but apart from your sexy figure, Whiskey had noticed your red cheeks before. You were being too cute and looking too pretty for him to resist. The desire to touch you and kiss you was stronger than him. Suddenly he wanted to steal you and bring you far away, so he could keep you safe. Too bad he couldn't do anything in the middle of the operation... You were distracted watching your target -the club manager- leave towards the garden. Then, suddenly felt Whiskey's hand on your waist while he called your name and made you turn and look at him. It was for a second that he touched you, but it was firm, intimate, the kind of touch men use to sound out how welcome they are in your personal space, a warning that they are going to touch you more if you allow them. Your heart was pounding when you faced him. He approached your ear and said "Be careful, princess" in a low voice, and then winked. "We're going outside, see you later", said Champagne and they left you on the spot, distracted.

The agents headed to the garden, following the club manager. Finally alone, you were able to breathe again and quickly focused on your part of the job. You had to steal the content of the manager's computer in his office. This time everything went well and your team could finish and run from the place with no one noticing, bringing some valuable info that would make your boss happy. The operation was a success and the team gathered for some drinks at the bar later that night. Pretty soon, Champagne had started flirting and left with a girl. Your heart fluttered when it suddenly downed on you, that you were alone with Whiskey. But you already had a couple of beers so none of you were so timid anymore. He blocked a guy that tried to flirt with you, totally looking like a jealous boyfriend. It was pretty obvious what was going on there. You talked about the mission for a while and complimented each other's job. Then he smiled and looked at your dress, his eyes shining. "I see you're wearing a dress again tonight, you look very pretty in it ". "Should I wear it more often, then?" you said in a flirty tone... "But only when I'm around so I can protect you from the unwanted attention". Things were heating between both of you and your cheeks were burning. Then he smiled, "Hey, I love this song, come here", he pulled and made you stand up by him. By the time you started complaining about the old-fashioned tune, he already had grabbed you by the waist and was dancing slowly. You were a bit surprised by the move, but quickly shut up and surrendered to the sway and his physical proximity, allowing him to take the lead while looking at him in the eyes. “You like it, don't you?... I can think of other things that you will like, miss". Still smiling, he leaned in for a kiss. He was soft and slow, while holding you tight. Soon the kiss turned more passionate and you needed to separate in order to catch your breath. He looked at you intently and said "Let's go to my place, baby. It's too loud here and I want to be alone with you". For a second you tried to weigh the possible cons of that idea, but you liked him too much to stop there, so you agreed. In the taxi, his hand was resting on your thigh and you felt the burning heat between your legs. You kissed throughout the cab ride. He was running his fingers through your hair and while catching breath between kisses he promised "I'm going to treat you very well, princess". "You better do", that's all you managed to respond before he took your lips again. When you arrived to his apartment, the door closing after you sounded like heaven. Curious about his personal stuff, you explored a bit the living room, apparently to Whiskey's amusement. He approached smiling and grabbed you by the waist, "Do you like this cowboy's humble place, baby? Well, get ready to see the bed, because I'm going to ride you there". Then he started kissing you and lifted you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and got lost in his kiss while he carried you to the bedroom. Your fingers got entangled in his hair while he was unbuttoning your dress and kissing every centimeter of your naked skin. The way he touched you and looked at you was a big turn-on, so decisive, so confident and masculine. On the bed already, his hands all over your body, later his head between your legs made you lose your head. He seemed to lose it too when you slipped your hand in his underwear and started playing with his cock, which was ready for action. You noticed his excitement and kept teasing him, playing bad girl. That made him felt the urge to give you what you deserved. "What do you think you're doing, come here", he grabbed you and placed you underneath him, kissing you again, while pressing his hips towards yours. He still had his boxers on but you could feel he was so hard against your entrance. He played around it for a while and you showed your desire, by grabbing his butt and pushing him against you. Then he teased you, introducing the tip of his finger in you. "Oh baby you are so wet, you have no idea how much I like it.” He kept playing with his finger while kissing your neck and then going down to taste your nipples. Excited, you arched your back and made him go up in order to kiss him again, your hands running through his hair, next towards his back. “I want you so much”, you wanted him to know how much you desired him. He seemed pleased to see how excited you were. He kissed your neck and went up to bite your ear, suddenly feeling the need to assert how you belonged to him.  “You know your pussy is mine, don’t you? You are mine now". Then he stood up and took off his underwear. You knew what was coming next, which made you even more excited. He leaned down on you and you hugged and kissed, this time completely naked, with no obstacles for the imminent intercourse. After some exquisitely desperate waiting and begging him to take you, he also couldn't wait anymore. He was on top of you, moving his hips so his cock would slide and position itself against your entrance. You were so wet and he was so hard that the tip entered you with no need for further guidance. Next he penetrated you slowly, taking his time, savoring your moans and the look in your face. He lied on you, holding you in his arms, one hand on your back, the other sustaining your head. He was on top of you, holding you tight and close to him, then started thrusting inside you with passion. Feeling his weight and the grip of his strong arms increased the delicious sensation of being helpless and possessed at his pleasure, his hips moving over you and the friction on your clit bringing you to unknown enjoyment heights. He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. As you vibrated with pleasure under him, he felt more excited and wanted to be even more inside you, so he silenced your screams with a kiss, his tongue deep in your mouth. Then you completely surrendered to the feeling of being his, let go of all resistance and reached your climax. You kept making love for a while since your thirst for each other was not satisfied yet and he wanted to play with you more. When he came later, you felt so full of him and happy. Both of you were covered in sweat and exhausted. His  blissful smile filled your heart with joy. He caressed your hair and showered you with sweet kisses. But his adoring brown eyes fixed on yours was what made you feel weak and realize that you had a serious problem going on there. You were falling in love.

[retvenkos]

(PART ONE) Hello! Congratulations on your milestone! Can I request a :fire: for Harry Potter? I’m a straight female, My zodiac sign is Scorpio, I’m also a Slytherin. My personality type is Estp-t. I have big goals for my future such as being an actress. I also play the electric guitar and I also really enjoy skateboarding. My favorite music artists are lil peep, Ghostemane, and suicideboys. My friends say that I am very adventurous and I’m emotionally strong.

(PART TWO) they also say that I’m not afraid to take any risks. I can be a bit stubborn at times, I have a hard time trusting people. My aesthetic is a dark grunge. I am an ambivert, I’m not afraid to dream big too. I am also very passionate about witchcraft. I don’t like too much physical contact. I am very protective of my personal space unless I am with someone I’m very close with. Thank you! <3

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Regulus Black!

now, at first this may not seem like the best idea, but i’ve put a lot of thought into this and can say that this is a good idea

from what i gather about scorpios (astrology is not my strong suit) you are the stereotypical slytherin - bold, ambitious, maybe a little secretive... you definitely have the potential to swing either way on the villain/hero scale. you are sharp and intelligent, and more stubborn than anything else, but none of these qualities are necessarily bad. 

truth be told, a lot of these traits are sirius’ personality traits. you’re very similar to him, and therefore, very different from regulus.

where you are bold, regulus is cautious; where you are ready to jump into battle, regulus is patient; where you are defiant, regulus is flexible and goes under the radar; where you are prone to taking risks, regulus is calculated.... and the list goes on.

on the surface, the two of you look like you would never get along - and i’m usually not a fan of opposites attract - but i have some key points that i want to get through to help explain where i’m going with this.

(1) regulus has lived with sirius for his entire life, and since you are so similar to sirius in personality, he understands you really well. of course, he probably doesn’t like you right away, but he knows how you operate and either the teachers catch onto this and make you partners or some of regulus’ friends realize this and task him with getting you to go help them out.

(2) both of you could become either the villain or hero of the story. regulus is a bit of a tragic character, really, because with the push in the right direction, he could have made a lot of change a lot sooner than he did, and maybe the most cruel thing was the time stolen from him. he’s extremely vulnerable to influence, just due to his personality, and so had he been given someone who believed so adamantly in dumbledore and the other side of the war, regulus really could have been the hero - no need for harry potter to grow up, because regulus could have taken center stage and defeated voldemort himself, with the help of the order of the phoenix. from what i know about scorpio, slytherin, estps, you could have a very similar story. because you have all the determination and ambition to go one way, but you are also transformative and can turn with the right influence, and be adamantly the opposite. both you and regulus are perfect for redemption arcs or bastardisation arcs, depending on what influences you have.

and, since you are the more bold and steadfast, of the two, you would be a driving force in regulus’ turn to the good side - you would supply him with all of the confidence and practicality, and the two of you could have honestly stopped voldemort together, that’s in no way a joke.

(3) you are incredibly forgiving, and this is because you have faced the darkness within yourself, so you are not afraid of it when you it in others. furthermore, you are incredibly perceptive and intuitive, so even though you are slow to trust, you know deep down when you can trust someone and perhaps hold them at bay for a while until you are 100%. but when you’ve seen them, and this usually happens early on, you know. you’re just praying your not wrong. (but girl, trust yourself. you are among the most intuitive slytherins out there, and you are rarely wrong).

(4) you both think big! this is usually rare for an estp, but it makes sense since you are a slytherin. you both have goals and will stop at nothing to achieve them. when you and regulus know what you want, you get it, no matter the cost, and that’s really iconic of you.

something i love about you and regulus is that you will bring dreams to him. regulus has never really had the luxury of foreseeing an ideal future for himself, but you are not afraid to dream, and you can bring dreams to him. it’s definitely one of the reasons why he first fell for you - you talk about the future like it’s something meant to be seized, and you talk about dreams like they’re meant to become reality.

i also think that your stubborn side is good for regulus - he can often be gripped with indecision, but you will take the reins and soldier forth with the idea you know think to be the best. you are bold and direct and original, all of which regulus thinks he is not. you are the person that shows him he is, indeed, all of those things - he’s standing up to the dark lord, after all.

(okay, sidebar, but now i really want to read a series with you and regulus. you are fellow pureblood slytherins who believed in supremacist ideologies because you were raised that way, but in your 6th year at hogwarts, the two of you are forced to become death eaters, and slowly from there, you realize what the death eaters truly were - murderers and thieves and terrible, terrible people who are willing to do terrible, terrible things for no real end. and the two of you decide to leave together. you find the first horcrux and succeed in destroying it, and then the two of you start to fight against voldemort alone, until you eventually join the order of the phoenix and start to take voldemort down. in this version, there is no prophecy and harry potter isn’t the boy who lived because you and regulus take down voldemort yourselves. sirius, james, and remus both join your sides (peter can still be a traitor, or not, it’s up to you. same with snape - i feel like without the harry storyline he wouldn’t swap sides.) and we get the marauders plus you two destroying the horcruxes. can you imagine how great that story would be?)

okay i have rambled too long, let me give you some random headcanons.

as i have said before, regulus listens to music religiously so i 100% see the two of you listening to music while on the run, debating about who’s band is better.

and that’s another thing! you guys have debates like no other - it’s really a wonder the two of you care so deeply about each other, because to the untrained eye, you both look like you annoy the hell out of each other, and it’s very funny when people realize you are such good friends.

(oh yeah, enemies to friends to lovers. although now i get just friends vibes, but i’ve put so much effort into this match up.... friends or lovers. your choice)

i definitely think that the two of you have stargazed throughout your travels - regulus probably told you all about his family one night, when you’re looking at the stars, and you comfort him.

oh! since you want to be an actress, headcanon that the two of you have to go undercover as muggles for a while in your attempts to defeat voldemort, and you end up really falling in love with muggle movies, and after the two of you have a marathon one night (maybe you get a night off or something, idk), you talk about how you want to be an actress. and then, regulus prompts you to dream for him - what would this actress life be like, if when it happens?

and you spin an entire story for him, a dream - a hopeful one - without the war and the suffering, without magic and death eaters, where the two of you are happy - you as an actress, and regulus as a screenwriter, only crafting the most complex of characters for you to play.

and he’s pleasantly shocked that he’s in this dream of yours, and you confidently tell him that no matter where you go, he’ll always be there, at your side. “you can’t get rid of me now, you realize that, don’t you? you’re stuck with me, black.”

and he doesn’t say anything in that moment, but he thinks that maybe that’s not such a bad dream, after all.

okay, i popped off with this one, but now i really want this regulus story to be a THING,,,,,,,,,,, ugh. can you imagine how great it would be? okay, just imagine if it were a mini series and it had the greatest soundtrack ever, and the palate was dark greens and blacks,,,,,, i got carried away but can you imagine.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungcheol: Stubborn (Part Four)

Characters: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff

Word count: 1,755

Summary: You’ve heard the stories your relatives told you about werewolves when you were younger, but you always thought it was just a scare tactic to make kids behave. Well, up until you woke up in a den full of werewolves.

Previous | Next | Stubborn Masterlist

As you sat on the counter, letting your legs lightly swing back and forth, you saw a smirk creep up onto Seungcheol’s face as he helped Junhui make food for those who hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Seungcheol lightly jabbed the younger wolf in the side and whispered something in his ear, earning an eye roll from him.

“What?” you asked, sounding a little annoyed. You didn’t really like feeling out of the loop, especially when you were still the newcomer here.

Junhui was the one to reply to you with a quick shake of his head, “It’s just Mingyu and Danbi.”

“They used to sneak off all the time to be alone together,” Seungcheol explained further when the confusion didn’t leave your face, “but since Wonwoo isn’t here…”

You were easily able to fill in the blanks after that. With their enhanced hearing, they could probably hear everything. Even you knew Danbi and her mate would be getting teased a lot in the near future.

“If he marks her, you know Wonwoo will probably rip his throat out,” Jun chuckled, although just the thought of having two wolves fighting again made him look tired.

“Eh, he’s still clueless even after last night, so maybe not,” Seungcheol shrugged. “I wonder if he’ll ever get over this overprotective thing.”

You were lost in this conversation, not understanding anything. What was marking and why would Wonwoo be upset about it? Was that just another term for what Mingyu and Danbi were doing right now?

Jun saw the look on your face and turned to Seungcheol, seeming a little afraid. He tapped the alpha on the shoulder to get his attention before gesturing to you.

Knowing he liked to dance around your questions, you decided to just ask, “What does that mean, ‘if he marks her’?”

Seungcheol sighed, setting the knife he was using to cut up meat with. He knew he’d have to explain everything to you eventually, so maybe it was better to do it now than later.

“When a wolf finds its mate,” he began slowly, running a hand through his dark hair, “they...mark them. Basically, it shows all other wolves that that person belongs to them.”

“So…a territorial kind of thing?” you asked.

Seungcheol nodded, “Exactly.”

“How do you mark your mate?”

“Oh boy…” Junhui mumbled. Judging from how you reacted to everything else the day before, he was sure you would throw a fit over this too.

“What?” you whined, pouting at the foreign wolf. “Isn’t it just like, love bites and stuff?”

Jun just scoffed, “Literally.”

Seungcheol just shot him warning glare as he walked closer to you, “Well, it’s…a little different than how you humans like to mark up your partners. We do leave a mark, yes, but we...bite...our mates. It hurts for only a moment, and we always do it when our mate says they’re okay with it.”

Normally, yes, you would’ve run away screaming. But since you didn’t have a wolf imprinting on you to worry about, you just sat on the counter and looked back at Seungcheol with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Is that associated with sex or something?” you wondered, considering it was brought up when they had mentioned Mingyu and Danbi.

“Usually, yeah. It distracts from the pain.”

Jun suddenly looked up from what he was doing, looking between you and Seungcheol, “Should I…leave?”

Seungcheol turned his attention back to the member of his pack, chuckling, “What, you can handle hearing one of your brothers do it but you can’t stand listening to someone talk about it?”

Minghao entered the kitchen with Joshua behind him, the younger of the wolves giving you a warm smile as they entered. You mustered up the best smile you could as Joshua walked up to you, crouching down in front of you as his hands gingerly wrapped around your left ankle.

“Is it okay if I check your ankle?” he asked, looking up at you with cat-like eyes.

You’d completely forgotten about your injury since the wolves had healed it -- you still didn’t know how that happened -- but you nodded anyway. Joshua carefully pressed his fingers to your bones, seeming to watch your face for any sign of pain. It was a bit sore in one place but it wasn’t anything too bad. It only hurt when he pressed on it, almost like a bruise.

“Is she okay?” Seungcheol asked, watching Joshua intently.

He nodded, standing up from his position, “Yeah. I’m really surprised she didn’t hurt it again when she was walking around in the forest this morning.”

“Oh yeah,” Minghao turned away from where he was looking over Seungcheol’s cutting board to you, “_____, would you mind telling me about the girl you saw in your dream?”

You didn’t really know why Minghao wanted to know. You did remember that Seungcheol had sent Danbi off to ask him something after you spoke of the girl you saw in your dream, but you didn’t know why he had to be involved. No matter the case, you told him about her anyway as the other wolves in the kitchen listened intently. Once you were done, their golden eyes flickered to Minghao.

He nodded slowly, “Okay… Do you remember what color her eyes were?”

“Light, light blue,” you told him. “Almost white.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head, “Yeah, that’s my Jia.”

“Who’s Jia?”

The question seemed to make Seungcheol fidgety, so he went back over to where he was cutting up meat. This left room for Joshua to step closer to you to explain, as he gave an oddly teasing look to the alpha.

“Jia is Minghao’s mate,” Joshua explained, leaning his back against the counter beside you. “She’s special, though. They can’t physically be together but they see each other in their dreams at night.”

“Sounds cheesy, right?” Junhui laughed, nudging the younger wolf with the butt of his knife. “But Jia’s really sweet. You don’t have to be afraid of her.”

“How can she do that, though?” you wondered, your eyes landing on Minghao for answers. “Is she…a witch or something?”

“Ah, how should I explain this…?” Minghao seemed to ask himself, running his long fingers through his hair. He softly chewed on his lip before he sat down in a chair at the table. “Well…her father was a werewolf, and some werewolves have a…special power. It’s a rare gene -- rarer than the werewolf gene -- that can get passed down.”

“Wait, what?” you stopped his explanation, shaking your head. You weren’t keeping up with this. “Special power? I thought werewolves were just really strong and had higher senses?”

“Yes, but some werewolves have one more power than just that,” Joshua nodded, looking up at you from where you sat on the counter. “For example, I’m a healer. I’m the reason your ankle is basically perfect right now.”

“All alphas have a special power, but sometimes just any regular werewolf can get them too,” Jun elaborated, earning a jab from Seungcheol. “Ow! …Oh.”

You eyed the alpha as he looked back at you nervously. He couldn’t tell if you were afraid, angry, or what. Honestly, you didn’t know how you felt, either.

“What can you do?” you asked him quietly.

“Nothing as cool as the others.” he chuckled awkwardly, taking cautious steps toward you as his pack watched. “I’m just…really strong.”

“Seungcheol’s the strongest one in the pack,” Jun told you with a proud smile. “Unless Minghao mimics him but even then, that wears off eventually.”

“I heal, Seungcheol is strong, Minghao can mimic powers,” Joshua began to list off, counting on his fingers as he went, “Chan is fast, Soonyoung can possess others, and Jihoon is telekinetic.”

You made a mental note to stay away from Soonyoung, and from the look on your face, the wolves in the kitchen knew you planned to keep your distance. Joshua just laughed and shook his head, assuring you Soonyoung would never do anything to you unless there was a dire reason.

“But that won’t matter, right?” you shrugged, looking around at the wolves that were staring back at you, confusion on their faces. “Joshua said I had to stay until my ankle was healed, and it is. So I can just go home.”

The fact that the three wolves looked to Seungcheol didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you followed their gaze to the alpha, who looked conflicted. His gaze looked to the floor as he seemed to battle with himself in his head.

“What, am I not allowed to go home?” you snapped.

“Seungcheol…” Minghao gave a pointed look to Seungcheol.

Seungcheol was having a war in his own mind. He wanted to just tell you that you were meant to be with him, but he’d only known you for a day. You were way too unpredictable, and you got worked up too easily because of the way you were raised. He wanted to wait to tell you but he also wanted to keep you with him.

“_____, where would you go once you leave here?” he asked you.

The question took you off guard. “Huh?”

“You’ve never mentioned a family or friends,” he elaborated. He didn’t sound like he was trying to be mean, he just sounded concerned, which was odd to you. You didn’t know why he would care, “and Soonyoung said when we found you that you seemed more like a drifter or a wanderer. Do you…not have a home to go back to?”

Something about his questions made you angry. Even though it was clear he was just trying to look out for you, you didn’t like that he brought it up in front of his pack all of a sudden.

“That’s none of your business,” you said sharply.

“No, _____,” Seungcheol left his utensils where they were and walked over to you, his eyes soft as they looked into yours, “I’m trying to say that you can just stay here with us. You have housing, food, protection…everything. It has to be better than living on the street and stealing every day, right?”

“Plus, I think Danbi has taken a liking to you,” Minghao added with a smile.

“You don’t have to decide today,” Seungcheol told you, making you focus your attention on him again, “but I would appreciate it if you’d think about it.”

You nodded slowly, taking in their words, “I guess I’ll think about it…”

The alpha grinned at you. That was good enough for him.

[leafallsonelines]

Bizarre Love Triangle

I'm not sure what this could mean I don't think you're what you seem I do admit to myself, that if I hurt someone else Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be  -New Order

I didn't want to get into a relationship.

He wore me down and soon enough I was the one crazy about him. I always answer to the undefinably strong pull toward a certain person. I was soul weary and needed a break from emotional turmoil. When you meet somebody else, they're the main character of their own love story (just like I am in mine; as it should be). I'm privy to fact that we all have a history, especially when dating in your late 20's and 30's. I wasn't ready for our stories to collide.

I desperately wanted to avoid cluttering my life with someone else's relationship baggage when I haven't even taken care of mine. He campaigned hard for the relationship. I went for it.

Despite my better judgment I always cave—give in to that desire — anticipate and absorb the pain that inevitably follows.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in 2014 the term Cool Girl ™ was coined to describe women who change their personality for male approval. (The shtick is contrived and annoying once you spot it.) She doesn't have a solid sense of self and basks in attention to fill. That void; hoards men like Thanksgiving hams and gets territorial when she's not The Girl. She gets kicks from seeing how uncomfortable she can make other girls by openly flirting with their boyfriends just to watch them squirm. This act is so played out most people have an eye roll ready for anyone flying the “I'm not like other girls” banner. (Gen Z now calls them Pick-Me-Girls ™.)

I crossed paths with one in 2018 — my boyfriend's best friend of sixteen years. A self-indulgent, selfish friendship. I wasn't initially jealous, didn't interrupt, and it came back to bite me; it was hideously unfair.

For storytelling purposes let's call her “Kate Luu.” Kate, an incestuous tigermom who gets jealous of any girl her son gets with, a petulant toddler that would rather break a toy than let someone else play with it. Probably has BPD. Definitely needs a good therapist.

Like a lot of dewy eyed girls newly in love I conveniently dismissed the red flags around my boyfriend and Kate. I had empathy for them because of my past platonic friendships with flirty undertones. Guys would respectfully fall back when they got into relationships or if I Was in one. I struggled with the slow withdrawal of warmth, missed the emotional intimacy, but recognized it as the right call and moved on. A lot of young adults exploring their sexuality go through this. As I got older I favored female friendships for being uncomplicated, preferring to avoid unwanted sexual tension.

Empathy without boundaries is self-destruction.

A couple weeks after celebrating our one year anniversary Kate texts me, “We need to talk.” Alarms immediately go off in my head. The last few months I had started bringing attention to the bad vibe I was getting and the inappropriate nature of the relationship. I got tired of biting my tongue. He didn't know how to process it or correct it. His lingering infatuation with her made it impossible for him to distance himself or enforce new boundaries. He started hiding it instead. I caught him being intentionally ambiguous about his plans when going to see her. He fumbled himself into an emotional affair.

Princess Diana famously described her marriage to Charles as “crowded.” It was an unmistakable reference to his affair with Camilla. Looking back the (justifiable) anxiety I had was from being crowded. Intuition is not insecurity.

I met Kate for coffee and she read aloud a pathetic five page letter telling me I'm a bad girlfriend and “full of shit.” She was intervening on his behalf as the person who knows what's best for my boyfriend.

“It's none of your business.”

But no, she has the authority to interfere as his best friend of  sixteen years  and I was a  one year  nothing. She brought up the fact he was attracted to her first, told me I'm spineless and ruining their friendship with my insecurity. (She _really _ran with the words spineless and insecure.)

Accusations are confessions when they come from a manipulative person. Textbook projection. She was mad her narcissistic supply was tapering off. (Gaslighting Pro-tip: Label rightful jealousy as insecurity.)

My boyfriend gave her personal, intimate details of my life during their oversharings and she used that information to bully me. Nothing was off the table, including my sexual history. I can see how she manipulated him, but it was inexcusable. People who enable They leave the door open for endless rows of inappropriate behavior. All of this was happening behind my back for a year. That kind of intimate toxicity are suckers for ego massages.

Don't you just love a story where the villain puts all the evidence of her misdeeds in one letter and unravels into epic, illogical rage all in one afternoon, in the space of two hours?

How did Kate have time to write five pages of false narratives designed to destroy a relationship she was jealous of? She doesn't have a job. She's a pampered dog mom living in her rich fiancé's house for free. A busybody performatively taking care of other people to avoid a mountain of personal issues. (An unevolved Virgo.)

Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing.

Kate has many noticeable traits as an obnoxious, self-important person — an absolute fake. She calls herself a _philanthropist _without having done anything philanthropic or even knowing how to use the word; she literally saw a big SAT word that means good person and attached Herself to it. (A word assigned to big charitable donors like Bill Gates, not bloggers). She has the same relationship with the word “unconventional” and thinks using a bigger word for unique or quirky makes her even more unique and quirky. Nope, still basic.) In place of possessing any actual humor she repeats memorized dad jokes and leans into corny, forced puns. If this isn't annoying enough she then insists she's funny. (Funny people just make you laugh. They never have to tell people they're funny. Barfs in, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”)

If I poked a finger through her shallow veneer I'd find loose dirt and dog shit.

And you know what? I'm not even against intense friend love. I get it. I groove to “One Love.” Emotional freedom is important. Expressions of love are multitudinous. It should transform to fit the situation. She didn't respect basic boundaries to make room for all of us to be comfortable. She was just mad she got demoted and tried to burn the whole thing down.

Kate wanted to be the main character in my boyfriend's love story without ever actually dating him. Oh yes, I know — the audacity, the toxic lack of boundaries, the mind numbing arrogance. She's not even protagonist material — a papier-mâché hipster who got her personality from an Urban Outfitters catalog and can't stop contradicting herself despite the fact she is working off a pre-written letter. I have never encountered someone who thought so highly of herself while having almost no substance. She calls herself a writer , but is just a pseudo-intellectual English major who posts aesthetic word salad on Instagram.

Later on I realized that if someone is mean to you unprovoked it's jealousy. One of the catalysts for the meetup was a heartfelt anniversary post I wrote on Instagram. It's not my usual style, but I felt gushy and really went full blown poetic and swoony She's jealous that her own, brought up love and Birth of Venus, blah blah blah. She mentioned my IG post and even admitted it was poetic and well written, but proceeded to use that as the jumping off point to invalidate the love in it. writing is try-hard drivel; a woman in her thirties mentally stuck in 2011 tumblr cringe.

If she truly wanted him she should have pursued him honestly and not wait to mess with another person. Hell, even just owning up to her feelings and saying, “I realize I may have lost my chance with you. Is there still anything in our sixteen year history that makes you want to give us a shot instead? ”à la My Best Friend's Wedding. Treading some moral gray area, but way more acceptable than actively sabotaging a relationship.

She didn't really want him though. She just wanted to continue their friendship in that inappropriate flirtationship space to feed her ego. After the coffee date she ended their friendship in an email. That really important sixteen year friendship became disposable to her once she wasn't able to control it.

Sometimes trash does the public service of loudly identifying itself as trash and takes itself out.

If you're a female best “friend” to a guy in a relationship and you need to flex on “I was here first” and “We did this before you were in the picture,” then you were never interested in seeing that friend thrive in a romantic relationship. You just get off on being his favorite unfulfilled option. If seeing him in love with someone new has you feeling that miserable you're just being selfish. Real love doesn't overstep in a new relationship so you can hog their spotlight. You're not even a friend; you're a skunk marking your territory and keeping him in the friendzone while not really wanting him to have a girlfriend.

You learn to love somebody in their love language and not just yours. Selfish love is not real love. That's just using someone to fill a place. Maybe a distraction. Seeking anything in return isn't real love because if you want that you actually don't have love to give; it's fake; it's toxic. If there's someone who isn't around anymore and you miss them consider the fact that you might just miss the place they held in your life. (You have the freedom to fill that space anyway you want.)

She realized she burned through all her goodwill thus the sudden ghosting and extracting herself. I never asked my partner to pick me or issued any ultimatums. Sometimes important questions stay unanswered. Sometimes you have to move on without the apology you deserve. There is grief in never receiving closure.

My partner finally saw my concerns validated in the aftermath. I bubbled with rage remembering excuses he made for her. Day in and day out I was drinking from an overflowing cup of righteous anger. So what was his role in this? Stupid or co- conspirator?

He was oblivious.

“I can't believe you could've left me for a wannabe influencer.”

I switched my phone wallpaper from his picture to a solid color. Looking at his face filled me with disgust. There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do. I knew I still loved him, but anytime a woman is hurt she becomes less interested.

How do you recover from unknowingly letting a toxic bitch walk all over and jeopardize your relationship?

Friends told me to move on, date other people. He campaigned for the relationship again. We did the work of picking up the pieces and starting over. 

I'm not pretending to be perfect. I was reeling from back to back traumas. My soft spots turned hard and cynical. It was my turn to be the toxic one. I drove to work sobbing everyday for a month. I complained constantly. My default became anxious and suspicious. I'm so out of touch with the person I was before; she's a stupidly innocent, free-spirited stranger to me. It took time for the poison leach out.

It's a lot of baggage.

The couples who make it aren't always the ones that never had a reason to break up. They're the ones that decide their commitment to each other is more important than their mistakes. Fast forward to the herculean effort he made to earn back my trust and we're still very happily together. (This is published with his permission.)

Our relationship is more grounded in reality now. It's not crowded anymore. Somethings more precious from having almost been lost. Somethings will never be the same. I'm the villain in her story, just as much as she's the villain in mine. We get to live out our own endings and there is peace in that.

Hurtful, painful, memories. Memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting and being hurt. Memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. Only those can obtain happiness. So Don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows.  -The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares

[juju-on-that-yeet]

There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Chapter 4/10

Summary: Yancy finds himself in a bar talking to an attractive and charismatic woman. Maybe she can help him forget about Lio, even if just for a night. Warnings: Mild sexual content Characters: Yancy, female OC

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

After a long day of aimlessly wandering through LA and fighting with himself on whether or not he should go home, Yancy ends up in a cheap bar.

The place is decently busy, not very clean, and most of the clientele seem rough around the edges. People are shouting over each other to be heard, punctuated by the thunk of glasses being slammed down. There’s a minor catfight going on in the corner of the room, with two women pulling each other’s hair and trying to scratch out each other’s eyes. It’s not all bad, though. There’s groups of friends genuinely having a good time, and couples standing together around the room. There’s even a pair of women, talking and obviously flirting with each other, and no one else even seems to notice. Yancy can’t help but feel a little safer.

He’s not sure what his goal here is. It’s not like he has any money, he doesn’t even have an ID (he owns a fake one, but it’s back in his room at Ego Inc.). He sits at the booth anyway; maybe if he drinks enough water he won’t get hungry until morning. The bartender gives him a funny look when he asks for only water, but he gives him a glass anyway. Yancy wonders how he comes across to others: His clothes are brand new and clean, but he knows his expression is tired, unhappy, pale cheeks and baggy eyes.

He must look pretty pathetic, because a woman sidles up next to him, sitting in the stool to his right.

“Long day?” she asks with a sympathetic grin. Yancy can’t help but snort.

“You have no idea.” He chuckles quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Long week, more like.”

“Rough. I hope you don’t mind company.”

“Nah, I could use some. You are…?”

“Danielle.” She smiles, genuine and bright. “You can call me Dani if you want.”

“Cool, I’m…”

It occurs to Yancy that most of the egos with strange names have some sort of alias they use to avoid suspicion. It also occurs to Yancy that Dark has a rule about the egos getting too close to humans. But it also occurs to Yancy that he’s not in Ego Inc. right now, and he’s not even sure if he’s going back, and in that case, why should he care about those rules, anyway?

“Yancy,” he finally says. “Yan or Yance is good too, though.”

“Yancy.” Danielle says it slowly, not mocking, but curious. “I’ve never heard that name before. Where are you from?”

“Uh, Ohio.”

“Ah.”

The conversation seems pretty dead in the water, but then Yancy realizes something.

“Hey, weren’t youse talkin’ to that other gal over there earlier?”

It’d be hard to mistake her; Danielle is Yancy’s height, with long, thick black hair tied back in a poofy ponytail. She’s wearing a white, knot front blouse with long, draping sleeves under an unzipped puffy vest, and flared jeans over spiky black boots. This close, Yancy can see how her nose is slightly bent, and how her eyes are strikingly blue. Her features are strong, solid-edged, and very attractive, at least to Yancy,

“I was, but we didn’t come in together,” Danielle explains. “She’s cute, I guess, but we didn’t really click.” She sees the look on Yancy’s face, and rolls her eyes. “I know that look. You’re wondering why I’m here with you when I was just with a girl, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Yancy admits. He wants to explain himself, but he lets Danielle keep talking first.

“Put simply, I swing both ways,” she says, “I hope it’s not a problem that I like girls.” She sounds less worried about upsetting Yancy and more about getting bothered by him.

“No, no way, I mean, me too!” Yancy exclaims, but then realizes how that sounded when Danielle’s expression changes to unimpressed. “No, aw hell, I mean…” He rubs the back of his neck again. “I mean…I like both, too. Was just surprised to find someone else here who does, s’all.”

“Oh!” Danielle says, first shocked, then she starts laughing. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry! I’m so used to people giving me a hard time–”

“No, I get it, I must’ve sounded like a real tool–”

“I don’t know how many straight guys have said what you did–”

The two are laughing, apologizing and explaining to each other through it all. In the process, they end up leaning towards each other, closer. Danielle really is beautiful.

“This calls for a drink,” Danielle giggles, “On me.” She notices Yancy’s water. “Oh, wait, are you driving?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” Yancy says, embarrassed. “I, uh, left my wallet at home.” It’s not a lie.

“Rough! Well, they never check IDs here, anyway, so I’ll get us something.”

The beer Danielle orders them isn’t bad; it’s better than Shithole Hank’s hooch wine, that’s for sure. She even takes pity on his growling stomach and orders fries for them to share. They talk for a while, and Yancy eventually ends up telling her what he’s doing here.

“Confessed to a friend,” he says with a shrug, trying to play off the still-raw hurt. “Didn’t work out. Don’t help that we’re roomies, too, so I just…had to get away for a bit, yanno?”

“Yikes,” Danielle murmurs, “That sounds terrible. I’ve fallen for friends before. It’s always more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Youse tellin’ me.”

“I got out of a relationship a few weeks ago.” Danielle leans closer, like she’s trying not to be too obvious. “It was pretty mutual, though. I’m ready for something new.”

That much was already apparent. The more Yancy and Danielle talk, the more overt Danielle gets. She gets so close they nearly bump heads, and even puts a hand on Yancy’s thigh once or twice, removing it the second after he notices but before he can say anything. Not that Yancy would. Danielle clearly wants a one-night stand, and maybe it’d be good for Yancy, too. Maybe this is what he needs to scrub Lio out of his brain and actually enjoy himself. Maybe if he finds out how Danielle tastes he’ll stop thinking about how Lio might taste. Maybe if he sleeps with her he’ll stop dreaming about sleeping with Lio. Not to mention he’ll have somewhere warm and comfortable to stay for the night if he goes home with her. It feels dishonest, but realistically, Danielle already knows his baggage. Yancy’s told her how he’s getting away from his roommate and ill-fated crush, she has to be aware of what he’s looking for…right? And Danielle really is a beautiful woman; anyone would be lucky to be with her. She’s fun, too; witty and kind and tough. She’s exactly the type of person he’d fall head over heels for if he wasn’t already tripping over Lio.

They end up leaving the bar a little bit tipsy, enough to give them both red cheeks and constant giggles. Danielle leads the way to her apartment, and Yancy is almost too drunk to feel guilty about imposing. When they walk in, though, he’s distracted from his thoughts by what he sees.

“Ohhhh, hello!” he coos at the beautiful brindle-coated pit bull that rushes into the room to greet them.

“That’s Bruce,” Danielle explains with a grin, gently fending the dog off as she takes off her puffy vest. “But I call him “Brucie” and “BruBru” so often I don’t think he knows his real name anymore.”

“He’s a real handsome dog,” Yancy says appreciatively, giving Bruce a hand to sniff after he’s taken his gloves off. “I ain’t allowed to have pets where I’m at.” He laughs as Bruce starts vigorously licking his hand.

“Yeah, I really lucked out here,” Danielle says, “So many buildings have a stick up their ass about bully breeds. But this place is good, I swear the landlord like Bruce more than me.”

“Well, he is a charmer,” replies Yancy, now sitting on the floor and letting Bruce bowl him over with affection. Danielle laughs at the sight.

“Alright, alright, come on,” she giggles, “You passed the Bruce test with flying colors, let’s go to my room.”

Yancy’s chest flutters (With nerves? Excitement? Something else?) as he gets off the floor and gives Danielle a quizzical look.

“Sure, but…what’s the Bruce test?” he asks.

“Well, Brucie’s a sweet dog, but he’s got a sixth sense for terrible partners,” Danielle explains. “He can be downright mean if he senses something off about someone. I’ve dodged a few red flags thanks to him, but it seems like you aren’t one of them.”

“Oh great, it’s not enough that you’re using Danielle to sleep somewhere warm tonight. You’ve duped her sweet dog into trusting you, too.”

Yancy tries to ignore his thoughts as he follows Danielle to her room. Bruce follows too, and Danielle has to muscle him out of the doorway to close the bedroom door. It’s clear she’s done this many, many times.

“You’re still in, right?” Danielle asks, unknotting the front of her blouse.

“Yeah,” Yancy says, though he makes no move to take his own clothes off yet.

It’s only partly from his lingering thoughts of dishonesty. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees someone disrobe, it’s still attractive to him. He can certainly appreciate the tightness of Danielle’s stomach, visible as she lifts her shirt over her head. He finds himself sitting on the end of her bed to watch the display. Danielle’s bra is simple, nearly the same color as her skin, but what really attracts Yancy’s attention is the tattoo on her elbow, now visible without the sleeve of her blouse over it.

It’s a spiderweb, branching from the point of her elbow out, as though a spider made a home there. It doesn’t go very far up or down her arm, but it’s there, unmistakable. It could just be a spiderweb tattoo and nothing more, but Yancy’s seen tattoos like that before. Plenty of inmates at Happy Trails had them, too. In prison, they signal that someone’s been locked up for a while, that they’ve been trapped like a bug in a web, so idle with prison life that they’ve grown cobwebs. Yancy almost got one himself but decided he didn’t want anymore ink on top of what he already has.

“Nice tattoo,” he ventures. Danielle, who was shimmying out of her jeans, pauses.

“Thanks,” she says. Something in Yancy’s voice must have given him away, because she stares at him, considering. “You…know what it means?”

“Yeah,” Yancy answers, “I, uh…I almost got one, too, back when I was in the big house.”

Danielle relaxes, a bit like how she did when she realized that Yancy is bi, too.

“No kidding?” she asks, laughing a little. “I really wasn’t there that long, not compared to others, anyway. It was eight years; would’ve been less, but I kept causing havoc in jail that added time.” She must see the curiosity on Yancy’s face, because her smile turns less playful, her eyes get faraway. “Drug possession; heroin, to be specific. Just a few too many grams to get a light sentence. I couldn’t stay away from it, even in jail. Eventually I forced myself to drop it so I could have a life again.” She resumes taking her pants off. “What about you?”

Yancy freezes then. He looks away.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me!” Danielle backtracks hurriedly, kicking her pants off from around her ankles. “I forget that not everyone’s as candid about that kinda thing as I am, sorry I asked.”

“S’alright,” Yancy mumbles.

“Would she still want you here if she knew what you’d done?”

Yancy looks back to see Danielle in her underwear, lacey and dark blue. His breath stutters, and his thoughts suddenly short-circuit. Danielle has really nice legs.

“Thanks,” Danielle giggles.

“Ah, shoot, I said that out loud, huh?” Yancy asks, sheepish, as Danielle approaches him.

“You did,” she affirms. She looks him up and down. “Are you gonna maybe…” She gestures to his still-clothed body. “Do something about all that?”

“Hey, we don’t gotta rush, doll,” Yancy answers, leaning back. “’Sides, I’m cozy. Maybe if I got too hot, I might take somethin’ off.”

His accessories and hoodie are sitting back by the door on Danielle’s coatrack, and his sneakers are beside it. But his shirt and jeans are still on, just tight enough to bolster the imagination without revealing very much. Danielle grins at his words.

“Alright, we can play that game,” she says, leaning down and sitting on Yancy’s lap.

Even with the worries of deceiving Danielle still in Yancy’s mind, it’s not hard to push them to the backburner once Danielle’s lips meet his. She doesn’t taste like anything he can name, but she’s an excellent kisser, slow, deep. Her nails find the nape of Yancy’s neck, sending shivers down his spine as she plays with the tufts of hair he missed when he gelled it this morning.

“No, yesterday morning. You haven’t gelled it since then, remember? You haven’t been at Ego Inc. to do it.”

Yancy tries to chase the thought away by reciprocating Danielle’s touches, gripping her waist with one hand and letting the other wander over her thigh. Danielle hums appreciatively, the sound vibrating through Yancy as their lips stay connected. He eventually pulls away to mouth at her neck, sucking marks into the flesh. His grip on her hip changes to let his fingers dip below the band of her underwear, dangerously close.

“Slow down, tiger,” Danielle chuckles, breathy and light, “I wanna play, too.”

Yancy finally pulls away from her to take his shirt off, doing it maybe a little more slowly than he needs to, giving Danielle a nice view. The moment Yancy’s shirt hits the floor, Danielle’s hands are all over him. Yancy can’t get enough of her, either. She even smells good, something vaguely spicy on the edge of Yancy’s senses. Her skin is soft but tough, it takes effort to mark her up. On top of everything else, she’s a great kisser, undoing Yancy from his jaws to his chest. Did he notice her good kissing already? Probably. It’s hard to think like this. It’s been a while since he got to sleep with someone. At some point he gets her bra off, giving him even more skin to play with. Danielle arches into it, happy to let him.

Eventually, Danielle’s hands finally travel down to Yancy’s straining jeans, palming him, letting out an appreciative hum. Yancy grins against her skin.

“Do you want me yet?” she asks, low and sultry.

The words fling Yancy somewhere else completely, to a familiar memory.

“Are you in love with me yet?”

Yancy pushes Danielle off and stands, surprising her.

“What the–” she starts, “Did I do something? I thought–”

“Sorry,” Yancy mutters, hardly able to breathe, “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He grabs his shirt off the floor and hurriedly tugs it over his head, but all he can see is Lio. Lio’s easy grin, Lio’s handsome eyes, Lio’s sharp jawline and rough stubble that Yancy wishes he could touch–

“Wait, come on, what’s this about?” Danielle asks, voice getting sharper, frustrated.

“It ain’t you, Dani, I swear, I just–” Yancy runs a hand down his face, upset. “I ain’t over it. I ain’t over him. I thought I wanted to be with you, I thought it’d take my mind off, but I just…I just want him so bad. I can’t do this.”

A tense silence settles over the room. Danielle sighs and savagely grabs her bra off the floor.

“I knew it,” she mutters as she puts her bra back on, “I knew you weren’t gonna go through with this, I knew you weren’t over that guy and trying to use me for comfort, but I brought you home anyway.” She shakes her head. “Look, you’re not a bad guy, Yancy, but you better leave until you can be honest with yourself, much less others.”

The words strike right through Yancy’s heart, and he gasps.

“Wait, hold on, are you–” His voice almost cracks. “Are youse kickin’ me out?”

“I invited you here for a reason, and it wasn’t for a friendly sleepover,” Danielle answers, deadpan. “Just go home and deal with your shit, don’t make me your cure-all.”

“Aw, come on, doll, I just – I gotta – C’mon, don’t put me out–”

“Go home, Yancy.”

“I can’t!”

“You can, and you will, because you’re not staying here.” She sighs again, less frustrated, more sad. “I know from experience that enabling helps no one. So I won’t enable you, not tonight.”

“I…” Yancy hangs his head. “Okay.”

“Let yourself out, I’ll relock the door after.” She turns away from him to pull her shirt back on. “Come back to that bar when you’ve sorted yourself out, maybe we can see each other again.”

“When the hell is THAT gonna be?”

“Who knows?”

Yancy leaves Danielle’s room in a daze, passing Bruce, who looks up at him from the bone he’s been chewing.

“You shoulda warned her, buddy,” Yancy grumbles as he puts his hoodie on, followed by his hat, scarf, and gloves. When he bends to get his shoes on, Bruce trots over and tries to lick him, but Yancy gently pushes him back until the bog goes back to his bone, oblivious to Yancy’s mood.

Yancy walks out of Danielle’s apartment, not looking back once he closes the door and ventures into the cold night. He turns her words over and over in his mind, thinking, wondering.

He finds and sleeps on a bus stop bench for the rest of the night.

[listen-to-miracles-again]

For people that hate stereotypes: If you think people should just shut up and stop, put this on your profile. I'm SKINNY, so I MUST be anorexic. I'm EMO, so I MUST cut my wrists. I'm a NEGRO so I MUST carry a gun. I'm BLONDE, so I MUST be a ditz I'm JAMAICAN so I MUST smoke weed. I'm HAITIAN so I MUST eat cat. I'm ASIAN, so I MUST be sexy. I'm JEWISH, so I MUST be greedy. I'm GAY, so I MUST have AIDS. I'm a LESBIAN, so I MUST have a sex-tape. I'm ARAB, so I MUST be a terrorist. I SPEAK MY MIND, so I MUST be a bitch. I'm a GAY RIGHTS SUPPORTER, so I WILL go to hell. I'm a CHRISTAN, so I MUST think gay people should go to hell. I'm RELIGIOUS, so I MUST shove my beliefs down your throat. I'm ATHEIST so I MUST hate the world. I don't have a RELIGION, so I MUST be evil and have no morals I'm REPUBLICAN, so I MUST not care about poor people. I'm DEMOCRAT, so I MUST not believe in being responsible. I am LIBERAL, so I MUST be gay. I'm SOUTHERN, so I MUST be white trash. I TAKE ANTI-DEPRESSANTS, so I MUST be crazy I'm a GUY, so I MUST only want to get into your pants. I'm IRISH, so I MUST have a bad drinking problem. I'm INDIAN, so I MUST own a convenient store. I'm NATIVE AMERICAN, so I MUST dance around a fire screaming like a savage. I'm a CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be a whore... I have Big BOOBS, so I MUST be a hoe. I'm a DANCER, So I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore I wear SKIRTS a lot, so I MUST be a slut. I'm a PUNK, so I MUST do drugs. I'm RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob. I WEAR BLACK, so I MUST be a goth or emo. I'm a WHITE GIRL, so I MUST be a nagging, steal-your-money kind of girlfriend. I'm CUBAN, so I MUST spend my spare time rolling cigars. I'm NOT A VIRGIN, so I MUST be easy. I FELL IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED MAN, so I MUST be a home-wrecking whore. I'm a TEENAGE MOM, so I MUST be an irresponsible slut. I'm POLISH, so I MUST wear my socks with my sandals I'm ITALIAN, so I must have a "big one". I'm EGYPTIAN, so I must be a TERRORIST! I'm PRETTY, so I MUST not be a virgin. I HAVE STRAIGHT A'S, so I MUST have no social life. I DYE MY HAIR CRAZY COLORS, so I MUST be looking for attention. I DRESS IN UNUSUAL WAYS so I MUST be looking for attention. I'm INTO THEATER & ART, so I MUST be a homosexual. I'm a VEGETARIAN, so I MUST be a crazy political activist. I HAVE A BUNCH OF GUY FRIENDS, so I MUST be fucking them all. I HAVE A BUNCH OF GIRLS WHO ARE FRIENDS, so I MUST be a player. I'm COLOMBIAN, so I MUST be a drug dealer. I WEAR WHAT I WANT, so I MUST be a poser. I'm RUSSIAN, so I MUST be cool and that’s how Russians roll. I'm GERMAN, so I must be a Nazi. I hang out with GAYS, so I must be GAY TOO I'm BRAZILIAN, so I MUST have a BIG BUTT. I'm PUERTO RICAN, so I MUST look good and be conceited I'm SALVADORIAN, so I MUST be in MS 13 I'm POLISH, so I MUST be greedy I'm HAWAIIAN so I MUST be lazy I'm PERUVIAN, so I MUST like llamas I'm a STONER so I MUST be going in the wrong direction I'm a VIRGIN so I MUST be prude I'm STRAIGHT EDGE so I must be violent. I'm a FEMALE GAMER, so I MUST be ugly.. or crazy. I'm BLACK so I MUST love fried chicken and kool-aid. I'm a GIRL who actually EATS LUNCH, so I MUST be fat. I'm SINGLE so I MUST be ugly. I'm a SKATER so I must do weed and steal stuff I'm a PUNK so I must only wear black and date only other punks I'm ASIAN so I must be a NERD that does HOMEWORK 24/7 I'm CHRISTIAN so I MUST hate homosexuals. I'm MIXED so I must be screwed up. I'm MUSLIM so I MUST be a terrorist. I'm in BAND, so I MUST be a dork. I'm BLACK so I MUST believe JESUS WUZ A BROTHA I'm MORMON so I MUST be perfect I'm WHITE and have black friends so I MUST think I'm black I'm GOTH so I MUST worship the devil I'm HISPANIC, so I MUST be dirty. I'm NOT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, so I MUST be a loser. I'm OVERWEIGHT, so I MUST have a problem with self-control. I'm PREPPY, so I MUST shun those who don't wear Abercrombie & Hollister. I'm on a DANCE team, so I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore. I'm YOUNG, so I MUST be naive. I'm RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob I'm MEXICAN, so I MUST have hopped the border. I GOT A CAR FOR MY BIRTHDAY, so I MUST be a spoiled brat. I'm BLACK, so I MUST love watermelon I'm BI, so I MUST think every person I see is hot. I'm an ASIAN GUY, so I MUST have a small penis. I'm a GUY CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be gay. I'm a PREP, so I MUST be rich. I don't like the SUN so I MUST be an albino. I have a lot of FRIENDS, so I MUST love to drink and party. I wear tight PANTS and I'm a guy, so I MUST be emo. I couldn't hurt a FLY, So I MUST be a pussy. I support GAY RIGHTS, so I MUST fit in with everyone. I hang out with teenage drinkers and smokers, so I MUST smoke and drink too. I have ARTISTIC TALENT, so I MUST think little of those who don't. I don't like to be in a BIG GROUP, so I MUST be anti-social. I have a DIFFERENT sense of HUMOR, so I MUST be crazy. I tell people OFF, so I MUST be an over controlling bitch. My hair gets GREASY a lot, so I MUST have no hygiene skills. I'm DEFENSIVE, so I MUST be over controlling and a bitch. I'm a NUDIST, so I MUST want everyone to see my boobs. I read Comics, so I MUST be a loser. I hang out with a FORMER PROSTITUTE… So I MUST be a whore myself. I'm TEXAN so I MUST ride a horse I’m a GOTH, so I MUST be a Satanist I’m a CROSSDRESSER, so I must be homosexual. I draw ANIME so I MUST be a freak. I am a FANGIRL so I MUST be a crazy, obsessed stalker. I WATCH PORN so I MUST be perverted. I'm an ONLY CHILD so I MUST be spoiled. I'm INTELLIGENT so I MUST be weak. I am AMERICAN so I MUST be obese, loud-mouthed and arrogant. I'm WELSH so I MUST love sheep I’m a YOUNG WRITER, so I MUST be emo. I’m CANADIAN, so I MUST talk with a funny accent. I’m QUIET if I don’t know you so I MUST be emo or anti-social. I'm a GUY, so I MUST ditch my pregnant girlfriend. I'm CANADIAN, so I MUST love hockey and beavers. I'm DISABLED, so I MUST be on Welfare. I'm a FEMINIST, so I MUST have a problem with sexuality and I want to castrate every man on the earth. I'm a TEENAGER, so I MUST have a STEREOTYPE. I WEAR A BIG SUNHAT when I go outside, so I MUST be stupid. I like BLOOD, so I must be a VAMPIRE. I'm an ALBINO, so I MUST be an evil person with mental abilities and is A MURDERER! I'm ENGLISH, so I MUST speak with either a cockney or a posh accent, love tea and cricket, and have bad teeth. I’m WHITE, so I MUST be responsible for everything going wrong on the planet: past, present, and future. I don't like YAOI or YURI, so I must be a HOMOPHOBE I’m not the most POPULAR person in school, so I MUST be a loser I care about the ENVIRONMENT...I MUST be a tree hugging hippy I have a FAN CHARACTER, so I MUST be an annoying Mary-sue. I CHAT, I MUST be having cyber sex. I'm PAGAN so I MUST sacrifice babies and drink the blood of virgins I'm PAGAN so I MUST worship Satan I'm CONSERVATIVE, so I MUST be against Abortion I'm SWEDISH so I MUST be a tall blond blue-eyed lesbian. I'm a LESBIAN so I MUST want to get with every single girl that I see. I like CARTOONS, so I MUST be IRRESPONSIBLE. I like READING, so I MUST be a LONER. I have my OWN spiritual ideology; therefore I MUST be WRONG or MISGUIDED. I am WICCAN, so I MUST be a SATANIST. I DISAGREE with my government, so I MUST be a TERRORIST. I am a WITCH, so I MUST be and OLD HAG and fly on a broomstick. I love YAOI, so I MUST be GAY. I'm a PERSON, so I MUST be LABELED I DON'T CURSE, so I MUST be an outcast I like GAMES, ANIME and COMICS, so I MUST be childish I'm SWEDISH, therefore I MUST be WHITE. I SPOT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, so I MUST be a pedantic bastard. I'm GOTHIC, so I MUST be mean. I’m STRONG so I MUST be stupid. I'm Australian so I MUST hunt crocodiles and talk to kangaroo’s I go to RENFAIRES, so I MUST talk weird, be a loser, and not be up with the time I don’t want a BOYFRIEND so I MUST be Lesbian. I'm NOT CHRISTIAN so I MUST just need converting. I love marching band, so I MUST be a friendless freak. I DRINK and SMOKE, so I MUST have no life. I am friends with a CUTTER, so I MUST be a CUTTER too. I cry easily, so I MUST be a wimp. I can't help pointing out mistakes so I MUST be an over-controlling perfectionist I'm a PERFECTIONIST so I MUST check everything ten times, them burst into tears at one mistake I’m GAY so I’m after EVERY straight guy around. I CURSE A LOT so I MUST be a bad kid and have problems I DON'T LIKE to talk about my personal life so I MUST be having problems PLEASE READ WHAT'S UNDER THIS!! I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian. I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman. I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights. We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time. I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room. I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me. I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again. I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear. We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men. I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me. I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman. I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman. I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male. I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men. I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that. I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual. I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me. I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind. I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love. I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parentshe loves another male. Re-post this if you believe homophobia is wrong. Please do your part to end it Sorry for the long post. I just think this is important. I got this from Ivory’Lee Lambskank on m.fanfiction.net

[everlarkficexchange]

Incubus

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 49: He has spent centuries coming at night and sleeping with as many humans as possible, many dying from childbirth with no child to bear, or because his lust overpowered them. He needs to find a women that can live through his lust and birth an healthy offspring and after centuries, he thinks he found the one, the sixteen year old Katniss Everdeen. Dark incubus!peeta Angst Old times. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

RATED: EXPLICIT for disturbing themes, imagery and adult situations.

WARNINGS: Dark!Peeta; Creepy!Peeta; Stalker!Peeta. Demon!Peeta; Dark!Toastbabies; minor character’s death, Canon compliant violence, Non-con/Rape. Stockholm Syndrome-ish.

TAGS: Supernatural AU; Under 16K words; Smut (Underage!Everlark, non-everlark)

Acknowledgements: Thanks to @animekpopxx for the great prompts, you never cease to inspire with your ideas for stories… sorry if I didn’t completely adhere to all the specifications listed on the prompt.

Many thanks to my amazing beta @wingletblackbird, who’s insights made this story 10 million times better.

@xerxia31 and @javistg for their dedication to Everlark Fanfiction, you keep the creative juices pumping with this events, and I thank you both for that… and thank you for reading my One Shot. Hopefully is to your liking! 

  KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

I’m thrusting vigorously into the wet, hot and loose pussy of a married woman who summoned me by name to get back at her cheating husband— who apparently has sired no less than 4 bastards, each from a different woman— by fucking a demon.

  She’s also awake, which is fairly unusual for my encounters, but I couldn’t refuse an invitation such as this when the woman is so willing and eager, and the call comes laced with the delicious odor of arousal.

  The problem is, she talks too much!

  I’ve done my best to tune out her asinine remarks on how big and intimidating my cock is compared to human penises, how much watching my member excites her, and makes her greedy pussy flutter in anticipation; I’ve heard stupid comments like those for millennia from women with the same wicked gleam in their eyes. They think that calling me to fuck them is some kind of thrilling game, as if the stories of how most of my partners don’t survive their first encounter with me, how their bodies can’t take the stress I put on them when I’m really overcome with lust, are mere jokes passed down from generations. But this woman really is testing my patience.

  Everything was alright until she asked a question that enraged me above anything she’s said so far.

  “My lord, is it true you impregnate every one of your victims?” There is that psychotic glint in her beady eyes again.

  I grunt and push away onto my haunches.

  The woman tries to sit up quickly, chasing my retreating form desperately with a pleading apology taking shape in her mouth. She doesn’t get to voice whatever idiotic excuse she was about to spew.

  With a flick of my hand, five silk ropes spring up from the floor and wrap around both her wrists and both ankles; the last one gags her mouth. She whimpers and the sadistic gleam in her eyes finally gets replaced with fear when the ropes pull back her legs bringing her knees level with her ears and her thighs spread wide open to me.

  Without stopping to look at her, I ram into her ass with so much force the legs of the bed groan and break under the punishing pace I’m keeping.

  The woman cries out in terror or pain, maybe both, I don’t care. I don’t stop driving into her until my release is imminent. When it’s time, I pull my cock out of the woman’s rectum swiftly, and spill all my cum on her face, chest, and part of her stomach. I take great care not to let even a drop of my precious seed fall into her reproductive organs.

  I sigh in relief once I’m done.

  The woman strains against her restraints, and moans pitifully. I look down at her tearful face with spite.

  Pathetic.

  Finally, I answer her question, “No. I don’t impregnate every one of my partners. Some aren’t worthy of carrying my offspring.” I stand from the broken bed and give her a disdainful glance, “You should count yourself lucky you don’t rate as a good partner, otherwise I would’ve taken your life, as well as your pleasure.”

  I dissolve into dark mist leaving her in that shameful position, tied up like a hog and covered in mess, to be found by her husband.

  ——

  It is not my custom to glide aimlessly through a human town after I’ve fed my lust, yet tonight’s encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth I just can’t shake off.

  I’ve been cursed into existence with the sole purpose of mating with as many women as there are sand grains by the ocean until one of them births me an heir to… to replace me, I guess, until he too has successfully produced a replacement of his own. Regretfully, I’m still here, after thousands of years, fucking my way through humanity. Not one woman has been strong enough to carry my spawn to term, so the careless curiosity of a self indulgent idiot got to me a little too hard.

  There have been a handful of promising cases, but at the end they just amount to female corpses too weak to bear my child. Every single woman I’ve copulated with either dies in the throes of passion, unable to whistand my consuming lust, or has complications with the pregnancy, either because the creature simply sucks the life force out of the host, or because labor pains put too much stress on their mortal bodies and they just give out with internal organ failures.

  On this depressing thought, I come to the center of town where I would never be if there was any sun in the sky right now. I’m about to turn myself into a small smoke tornado that will project me back to my den for a while, before my night starts anew on the other side of the globe, but a small, hopeless sob attracts my full attention.

  I’m a creature of darkness; therefore I’m drawn to and strengthened  by human pain and calamity. The whimpering continues guiding me to an alleyway, behind a lane of brick buildings, housing an amalgamation of shops.

  I notice three things upon arrival. First, the soft sobbing is coming from a little girl, much too young to be outside alone at this time. Second, it is dark, very, very dark; a moonless night, that should frighten a hardened man, a night in which specters like me come out to play eagerly with unsuspecting humans too dumb to stay safely in their beds. And lastly, this is the loneliest, creepiest alley I’ve ever been to. It’s cold, muddy, echo-y and reeks of death.

  My kind of place, I realize.

  Not at all where a tiny child such as this one should be.

  At first glance I determine the child is frail and almost to the doors of death. A female of around 10 or 11 years old, judging by her skeletal frame. It looks like she hasn’t known the taste of food in quite a few days, and she’s giving up her life in this cursed place.

  It is not in my nature to care whether she expires sitting on the hard ground, against the scraggly apple tree she leans on, or not, but for some reason, I speak to her. Soft and soothing.

  “What are you doing here, girl? It’s dark, late, and scary.”

  Deadened, sunken eyes stare at me suspiciously, “I could ask you the same. But I’m not nosy!” She replies turning her pert nose up at me.

  I chuckle and lower myself to the ground. The little brat is a piece of work! “I’m nosy and I don’t care if that’s rude.”

  The girl cocks her head sideways, slightly curious, not the least bit afraid.

  “I ran out of coin.” She finally says, “I can’t to go back home to my little sister, Prim, without food. She’s so tiny, and her lips keep crackin’ and bleedin’ every time she cries, asking if there’s anything to eat.”

  Normally, humans never see my true form if they happen to get a glimpse of me. They would die of terror on the spot, so their minds only see what they can handle. For women, they see every feature they find attractive in a male, making me irresistible for them, in the very, very seldom instance that they see me while awake. Men, on the other hand, tend to see someone non-threatening, a friend who would never hurt them. I’m not sure what this child sees me as, but clearly she sees someone worth opening her heavy little heart to, because the floodgates of her troubled life seem to have opened up, and she sobs telling me the rest of her story.

  “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that I had to chew with my teeth. My tummy started to ache a few days ago, but I didn’t want Prim to ache too, so I’ve been giving her all the little food we had left. Yesterday, all I found in the cupboards were a few dry mint leaves, I boiled them in water and told her it was soup. I came to the market to sell Prim’s baby clothes, but nobody wanted my ragged wares. I got so dizzy after walking all day trying to sell them, and my arms were so tired, I accidentally dropped the clothes on the mud somewhere yonder; I’m not sure where. I couldn’t pick them up, even if I’d wanted to. I knew that if I leaned down, I’d just kilter over and wouldn’t be able to get up again.”

  She takes a ragged breath and paws the soaked tendrils of black hair sticking to her forehead away.

  “I didn’t wanna die like that in the middle of the street where anyone could see. They would’ve known mother hasn’t been taking care of us. They would take Prim to the Community Home. Children in the Community Home get crushed by sadness and red marks on their faces from angry hands… I couldn’t do that to poor, delicate Prim. But this place here…” her eyes take a glassy quality, and her lips curl into a slight smile as if daydreaming of better days. “It used to be the bakery, before the owners moved away and abandoned it. The smell of freshly baked bread still lingers here, and if I inhale hard enough, I swear I can feel the smells fill my tummy.”

  She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, as if truly she could get her empty stomach filled with the long gone fragrance of yeast and flour that used to permeate this alley before.

  “My belly doesn’t hurt no more,” she sighs, opening her eyes and fixing them on me, “in case you were wondering.”

  My head cocks to the side, staring at her curiously.

  “I stopped feeling the hunger aches without noticing. Mamma’s a healer, I once heard her tell a woman, whose children had stopped crying out for food, that those are actually dangerous times, when the body needs food, when it’s so far gone, it starts eating itself out. But I’m not scared about that… dying here, where bread used to be baked… won’t be so bad, would it?”

  Something tugs at me in the back of my mind. Without thinking about it, and barely feeling anything at all, I conjure up two steaming loaves of hearty bread out of thin air. At first, my instinct compels me to take a bite out of the bread, taunt her, mock her, chop off pieces and lug them over the falling link fence of an old pen, where the odor of some kind of animal still persists, and watch her climb over the muck to devour the soiled bread. But then, my hands move of their own volition, offering the loaves to the girl.

  Her eyes follow my every move, stuck on the delectable food she’s been deprived off for so long, just staring at my gift.

  Suddenly, I’m aware of how cold and wet everything around me is.

  “It’s pouring.” I muse flatly.

  The girl’s eyes tell me she clearly thinks I’m stupid, but my clothes cling to my body uncomfortably, and now I’m aware my body feels oddly smaller than usual. I look down at my arms, realizing I have the arms of a child myself.

  I guess the girl is projecting her age and features on me, like humans do.

  “Take the bread before it’s too soggy to eat.” I grunt in aggravation.

  “I—Are you sure? I couldn’t… I don’t have anything to pay or trade—“

  I shove the two loaves into her lap, and kick off from the ground where I had come to sit, next to her. “Go home.” I command. “Get out of this darkness and this cold rain.”

  The girl looks at the food on her arms with disbelief and awe, then she looks up at me, as if I had given her the moon, the clouds, and her very own star. She murmurs. “Thank you…”

  In a second, she’s running away as fast as her scrawny little legs can take her, while I stand here stunned and confused. There was a strange reaction I got when the little girl’s gray eyes met mine and I could see the most appetizing fire within. I knew the little girl would not only survive, but thrive.

  I won’t ever see the little human again, so what do I care what’s in her future? I melt back into the shadows, already putting the incident behind me.

  ——————

I’m particularly fond of nubile virgins, which probably accounts for how poorly their bodies perform when I impregnate them, but I digress… teenage girls have the softest skin. Their budding breasts, still unaware of the effects of gravity, retain an innocent perkiness I could kill for. But, while all this is true on my normal hunts, one prepubescent human has become a most incomprehensible obsession of mine ever since the night I gave her the bread.

  My girl with the braid and gray eyes is now 14. She had to mature in extreme circumstances, before her time, making her exquisite in resilience and a strength her peers lack. I find myself attracted to her dormant… sturdiness.

  But at 14– in human years— her reproductive system is not mature enough even for a monster like me. She has not the means, nor the skills, to sustain the demands of mating with me, let alone carrying my spawn, so I admire her from afar and more often than I should.

  Tonight for example, I watch her sleep for a short moment, then I let myself slip through the same crack in the window I slithered inside, and go on my merry way to find a more fitting host.

  The girl will sleep untouched tonight, meanwhile I still need to bury myself into a warm, available body.

  —————

  “My name is Katniss Everdeen. What’s yours?” She asks the night a come across her, when she’s stuck on the other side of an electrified fence, in a dark, dark forest.

  “Peeta.” I say emotionless. It’s my given name, although her kind has given me a different, more sinister name I’m not terribly fond of. “Why are you out here?” I ask.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but my papa taught me how to hunt. That’s what I’ve been doing every day for the last two years to feed my family. I come everyday before school, and most days I return even after.”

  “Why come twice in a day?” My voice is flat, but she doesn’t seem to mind it.

  “Well…” She scowls looking at the ground, as her answer comes together in her mind. “My family has to eat, but we also need other things, like paraffin, thread and needles, matches… things for school, soap for the washing. People in town will pay coin for fresh meat, or trade with other goods. It’s a good system.” She states proudly. But then, she looks nervously around, and stutters as if remembering herself. “But you can’t tell anyone about any of that. I could get punished if word got out that I hunt illegally.” Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Promise you won’t say anything, Peeta.”

  I want to roll my eyes at her, but she’s staring at me with those eyes full of stars and warmth. I have to admit, it felt amazing to hear her use my name. Very few beings even know it, humans can’t even imagine I have an actual name, which suits me, since they fear the one they gave me. It almost rivals the strange pleased sensation I got when her gray eyes widened in pleasant recognition when she saw me approach her tonight. Still, I know not why she’s out here on her lonesome, and I much rather have her go home, to bed, where I have control.

  “I don’t have anyone to tell. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tattle. But why are you here so late?”

  She frowns. “The part of me getting stuck out here is actually unintentional, and happens very seldom.”

  I arch an eyebrow— I had no idea I could use the muscles in my forehead in such manner— and wait for her to elaborate.

  “The fence is a pre-war inconvenience, supposed to act as a deterrent for wild beasts, but is almost never on. Animals know to stay away from town, and people like me get to climb under it to gather apples and berries that grow in the wild. Only a few of us hunt, because it’s still illegal to poach. Today I slipped under the wires at dusk to collect some herbs for mother— she’s got to make half of her poultices and unguents with herbs only found in the woods, mind you— anywho, when I came back, the fence was live.” She shivers, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just have to wait it out. It’ll eventually shut off and I’ll be able to cross back into the district. Prim’s already come by to check on me and knows I’m safe. I’ll climb a tree or something while I wait.”

  I grunt my understanding and shake my head in aggravation. I wave my hand carelessly, and the electric buzz dies instantly. “I think you can come back in again now.” I tell her needlessly. “Hurry up. You never know how long this will last.”

  The girl, Katniss, narrows her eyes suspiciously at me momentarily, but finally shrugs, “As you say.” Then sticks her arm through the links of the fence, holding up her game bag to me. “Hold this for me.” She crawls under the fence and then stands in front of me.

  We are the same height I realize. But then, I grow an extra inch or two above her. The corner of her lips curls up, and I’m certain she’s figured something out about me, I just don’t know if it’ll help or hinder my advances.

  “I’ll see you around, Peeta. Thank you for keeping me company while I was out there. It’s the first time I got caught out at night. It was nice seeing a friendly face.”

  “Mmm. Be more careful next time.” I grunt, and walk away from her.

  —————-

I come back to Katniss’ bedroom for reasons I can’t readily comprehend.

  She’s not very big or particularly pretty; she’s not even ready to copulate! But there’s a certain vulnerability in her subconscious self that calls me to her.

  During the day, she sports the scowl of a thirty year old single mother of two working with only the skills of poaching, handed down to her from her dead father, in order to sustain her family while putting herself and her younger child through school. Of course, she is not really a mother, but everything else is true; so the rest might as well be true also, since she’s had to care and provide for her mother and younger sister for the last two years, taking the mantle of breadwinner all on her slim, little shoulders. Her determination is her own type of brawn in my book.

  I hover above her sleeping form, just studying her face; so sweet and tender, free of the premature worry lines and that perpetual scowl that plagues her features in wakefulness, but then again, it is that intimidating scowl of hers that grants her the respect of any adult she does business with.

  In sleep, Katniss looks more her age. Innocent and soft, like the velvety petals of a rose bud.

  I breathe in the clean smell of her recently bathed body, and wonder if I could just slip my palm up her thigh, just to feel her soft skin under my fingers? But her mother stirs and sighs in the other bed, shutting the thought to Hell.

  My eyes cut to the woman right away, but she’s asleep, just rearranging her position in the sagging mattress next to the one I’m floating over.

  Mrs. Everdeen suffers melancholy. Her emotional illness almost killed her and her daughters; I’m not sure how I feel about her. She’s better now, but the months of starvation and near death have permanently damaged Katniss, emotionally and psychologically, more than she lets on.

  The Everdeens never had wealth or means to afford but the barest of necessities, so when Mr. Everdeen passed, he left nothing behind but a small house with a tiny living area, kitchen, bathroom, and a single bedroom for his surviving family to live in. Another reason I don’t act on my urges to fuck sweet Katniss; the poor thing shares a room with her mother, and more often than not, shares a bed with her little sister.

  Tonight is a rare occasion, in which the sister hopped in bed with the mother, leaving the object of my fascination to battle her recurrent nightmares alone. This only exacerbates the troublesome dreams for Katniss, which aggravates me, since her sleep patterns turn irregular and shallow, making it hard for me to infiltrate her subconscious. She’s more prone to wake up when her mind is occupied relieving the bad days. But I don’t complain much, seeing that while she’s is bed alone, I can leisurely hover directly above her sleeping form, instead of by the side of the mattress like I’m usually confined to.

  I go back to gaze at my sleeping beauty, and decide that this won’t do.

  I have to figure out a way to give Katniss her own room.

  I want privacy when the time comes I can do all things I yearn to do. But there’s still time! Katniss has a couple of years ahead of her to grow and mature. I’ll just bide my time until that glorious future.

  Before leaving her side for the night, I kiss her forehead. I plant a thought there as my lips touch her skin: ‘Don’t pull the covers up too high. Loosen the sheets around your shoulders. Relax your breathing… rest.’

  Then I’m gone.

  —————————-

  I’m inside sweet, beautiful Lavinia, pounding away in glorious ecstasy.

  She’s an absolute delight with a soft, pliable body, with swells and dips in all the right places and shapely legs that go on forever.

  She moans sensually every time I enter her. She clenches her pussy muscles around my cock deliciously, and I lick the perspiration off her pale, luscious flesh to give my tongue something to do.

  For the first time in months, my mind doesn’t drift to fantasies of an older version of Katniss while moving into the designated warm body of the day. I’m thoroughly satisfied, and at the end of the tryst, just when I’m about to pull out of Lavinia’s tight crevice, she seizes, shakes, arches off the bed with her mouth forming an agonizing O, dipping her head back so her auburn hair brushes the mattress beneath and her torso finally collapses on the bed heavily.

  My chest feels the familiar little stir of excitement.

  Every woman I’ve successfully implanted with an embryo has had a similar physical reaction. Some are more violent than others, but it’s always the same and I’m cautiously content this time was so mild on the host… mother… whatever she is to my heir.

  I stay maybe another hour, just staring at Lavinia’s stomach, wishing I could see beyond the skin and muscle, deep into the womb, take a peek at the creature starting to take shape in her tissue. But alas, that’s not one of my many abilities and powers.

  At the first crow of the rooster in the predawn, while it’s still inky dark out there, do I finally see it happening.

  It starts as a small, dark red stain growing on the white linen sheets covering the still sleeping redhead. She doesn’t move an inch, but I know from experience the pregnancy failed. Despite the fact that the girl is still breathing, I can’t help thinking she’s already dead.

  Lavinia’s hemorrhaging fast; the mess covering her clothes and bedding is now reaching her shoulders; her eyes flutter behind her closed lids, and I regret ever putting my hands on her, because now she’s another girl I’ve sent for death.

  I don’t linger to see her last breath.

  None of my partners survive a pregnancy. But the night just began in the other side of world, and my loins call for another lover to replace the child I just lost.

—————————

  Katniss is 15.

  Her dark hair reaches her waist even braided. She hides her budding breasts and the slight curve of her ass, under her father’s old shirts and leather jacket, which are at least 3 sizes too big for her. She’s also taken to wearing  trousers instead of skirts and dresses, but even I’ve grown used to her clothing dwarfing her slight frame.

  The fact her developing womanly figure stays camouflaged serves two purposes; one, is purely practical, people seem to forget she’s a child— female at that— and take her seriously for trades and bartering; the second one benefits both of us, by keeping unwanted male attention from bothering her.

  But there’s no escaping nature, and there’s no stopping puberty. Katniss’ body is maturing nicely, and with that comes torturous growing pains.

  Today was hard for her, I can tell.

  She’s squirming in her sleep, doubled over at her tiny waist with her nimble arms wrapped around her middle. The downy hair at her temple is damped with perspiration, and her sweet lips are pale and dry.

  I kiss the dewy skin of her forehead, murmuring an incantation to numb away her aches. After a few minutes of me trying to soothe her with small caresses, the awful grimace falls off her face, and a relaxed sigh leaves her chapped lips. Her arms loosen, allowing her hands to curl softly beneath her chin.

  Her menses started a few months ago, and they have been rough on her. The cycle wipes out most of her strength, leaving her in cold sweats, dizzy, and unstable on her feet. The reaction really worries me. I don’t want there to be a problem I have not foreseen.

  I lean my cheek against her soft abdomen and whisper an enchantment. Given my nature, I’m not capable of healing ailments, or granting blessings, nor am I allowed to praying to the ones who could help, but I’m allowed to cast spells and conjure old magic, and lastly, I’m allowed to bear certain illnesses in a human’s stead, so I try to take her pain upon myself. I need my girl to be strong and healthy if she’s to carry my offspring in the future.

  I nuzzle her navel for a moment before taking a step back.

  A sharp pain wreaks through me, becoming acute near my groin. I claw at the air as the searing pain pierces through me, and then is gone as fast as it came.

  That’s that.

  I’ve never felt pain before, and I truly hope I never have to suffer it again, but Katniss is resting now, free of deliberating aches, sleeping soundly and peaceful. The unsavory sensations were worth it, just to watch my girl fall into blessed oblivion.

  That should do it.

  I leave her to rest, wiping off tonight’s nightmares from her subconscious as well.

  —————-

  I used to worry that with Katniss’ struggle with starvation and malnutrition, her body would become useless as a vessel. Then the day her first bloods stained her undergarments arrived to my everlasting relief, and that to the added improvement of her hunting skills that fetched her better game, and her gathering double portions of wild vegetables and herbs in the woods, where doing wonders to her health.

  I was delighted to see her filling in her scrawny bones with meat and muscle, and her cheeks get rosier. It’s the best indication that at last, her womb is ready for procreation!

  There’s still the pesky issue of her shared lodgings, so I decided to bide my time until her healer mother gets called to tend an overnight patient, and eager to learn, little Primrose would tag along her mother to help, leaving the house all to myself. Unfortunately, something else happened that I didn’t see coming.

  To my everlasting fury, I discovered her trips to the woods aren’t as solitary as I had believed. It so happens that sweet, capable Katniss, does have a hunting partner, and for some reason I ignored this fact completely until today.

  The fence is electrified again, but this time Katniss has made camp in the branches of a tall, sturdy tree. In a branch below hers, a lanky, older boy made his bed under the canopy, tying a rope around his waist to anchor him to the tree limb, same as her.

  “Hey Catnip, you get some shut eye for now. I have first watch. I’ll wake up when I get tired.”

  “Unless you see something worth shooting!” She tells the boy scowling. “Wake me up right away, Gale. Not like last time you saw a deer and tried to down it by yourself.”

  The boy lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, Catnip. Whatever you say.” He sounds almost playful. Almost, but then he finishes with a firmer command, “Now go to sleep. I’ll call if I see anything interesting.”

  I feel anger, jealousy, and righteous indignation boiling all over me. I feel my true form emerging, ready to show myself in all my glorious horror, but then I remember Katniss is a mere two feet up above the boy’s branch, and instead of attacking the mortal, I simply explode back to my dwelling, deep in the dark recesses of the Earth.

  Meanwhile, in the human world:

  “Did you smell sulfur?” Asks Gale sitting up straighter on his branch.

  “No. But smelling sulfur out of the blue isn’t a very good omen, Gale. I think we should call it a night, and head back home as soon as the fence is dead.”

  “Yeah. You may be right. We don’t wanna be near any toxic gas leaks, and we know next to nothing about the minerals in the mines yonder.” He points into the dark, in the direction of the old abandoned coal mines that used to be the only source of income to people like Katniss’ family.

  The teenagers descend the tree quickly, with loaded bows aloft, heading in the direction of town, praying the fence is no longer active.

  Oblivious to the angry roar resonating in the empty spaces of earth. Full of vengeance and jealousy.

  —————

Gale Hawthorne gets visited by my female counterpart, the one humans have named Succubus, courtesy of yours truly.

  She does not take his life unfortunately.

  She makes him sick enough he’s bedridden for a week, but he recovers.

  When I confront my demoness comrade, she simply says “The boy is 17, and he’s the sole provider for his family of 5. He’s mother is living enough hell as it is, so I just gave tall, dark and handsome a good ride and a touch at nirvana.”

  I don’t think that was the truth behind her reprieve at all; I’ve seen her take the lives of teens younger than that, who indulge in self molestation a little too much. I believe she let him keep his life as petty revenge on me, for disrupting her other encounters that night.

  The only consolation I have for now is that Gale Hawthorne will have an unexplainable aversion to sex for a few months, which means he won’t pursue my girl in the interim.

  But Katniss is starting to look more like a woman and less like a tomboy. It’s only a matter of time before she gets noticed by other boys. I don’t exactly need my partners to be virgins, but the thought of someone else taking Katniss’ purity drives me into a murderous state I really can’t afford.

  So, tonight, when I slip into the crack of the window to visit her, I dip my hand under her covers, into her threadbare camisole, to caress her supple, soft breasts. I pinch her nipples to erection and watch her react to the sensations.

  I plant suggestive thoughts in her subconscious. She blushes in her sleep and I murmur into her ear reassurances about her beauty and worth, and incredibly, I’m truthful about those.

  I close my eyes to savor the moment. It’s the first time I put my hands on her erogenous zones, and she does not disappoint. Katniss’ breast fits perfectly in my palm.

  “Sleep well my dear.” I whisper in her ear, “Dream of Incubus babies suckling at your tits. That will become your future at some point.”

  ———————-

  I’ve been stalking Katniss for the better part of five years, and still I fail to make her mine.

  She will be 16 in a few days time, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lay claim to her body, yet I keep finding excuses to prevent me from going any further than a few caresses on safe places. On nights she spends in the woods alone, I fabricate reasons why I shouldn’t touch her: ‘She’s fully clothed’, ‘A coyote is three miles away and could attack her in her heavy sleep’, ‘She looks uncomfortable on this tree branch; I want her first time to be somewhere she’s comfortable.’

  That last one became obsolete the moment Katniss hiked to a cement shack far into the woods, a place she excitedly canvassed for days, then fitted with a makeshift bed of dry grasses and hay to sleep in. Apparently the place had actually been discovered by her father in his youth, and he shared the place with his elder daughter, a secret location all to their own. Being the sentimental human she is, Katniss only recently found the courage to return without her father, and face the fact that her once happy childhood is gone.

  I blame my lack of progress on a disturbing thought: fucking Katniss in her sleep and leaving her to incubate my offspring after without any explanation, amounts to rape, and although it isn’t in my nature to operate under the moralistic customs of humans, I find the notion troublesome and appalling. I would never cause Katniss such pain and humiliation.

  So I’ve been stalling. Buying time, trying to find a way to make this union less… morbid. More consensual.

  I tell myself this is all for Katniss’ benefit, but the truth is, I think it would be rather nice to be able to look at her beautiful gray eyes while spilling my semen into her womb.

  To my chagrin, I’ve realized that while trying to consort with this girl, her humanity has bled into my very essence. I’m just afraid I cannot conform to mortal morals too long. My sole reason to exist is to procreate and satisfy my ever growing lust. My nature will win at the end, and I fear I will lose her when it happens.

  ———————

  It’s raining a monsoon outside, yet Katniss is sitting on the porch crying quietly into her hands. It’s past her bedtime too, so I’m sure this is something she’s trying to hide from her family.

  I sit next to her on the creaky step before even realizing my physical body has materialized out of thin air of its own volition.

  “Gale, my best friend and hunting partner, kissed me today.” She says without even looking up at me. “I pushed him away and told him I didn’t want to be with him that way. That I never wanna get married and have children. He walked off angry, and now I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m… sorry?” And I am, I just don’t quite know what it is I’m sorry about, yet.

  “I just don’t understand why he had to go and ruin a good thing!” Her gray, tear-filled eyes find me, and I’m surprised at the fire, anger, and betrayal in her gaze. I’m mesmerized. “Why did he have to go and complicate things that way? Isn’t he happy we are friends? Isn’t it enough we go out into the woods and feed our families together like partners? Why mess it all up?”

  “Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re worth the try. Because he’d be an idiot if he let it pass and never confessed his feelings for you. You are extraordinary, Katniss. You have no idea the effect you can have…”

  “What does that even mean, Peeta?” She demands angrily.

  “It means, men look at you and see someone worthy. Someone valuable. Someone they can’t help but admire and want to pledge their loyalties and affections to.”

  She snorts, pawing the tears off her cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you are my guardian spirit.” She says dismissively.

  “Your what?” I ask in disbelief, astonishment and an edge of offense.

  Katniss rolls her eyes, letting me know she thinks I’m being unnecessarily obtuse. “Come on, Peeta. You only show up on moonless nights when I’m in trouble, to help me with whatever supernatural powers you possess. I’ve known who you are since my friend Madge let me read her father’s old books from before the first rebellion of Panem. People back then believed in spirits and those kind of things. I just found one that fitted your description, and it came up as ‘Guardian Angel’ which mostly protect humans… you don’t have to deny or confirm it, but I’m pretty confident I got you identified!”

  She smiles through her tears. There’s a glimmer of satisfaction and playfulness deep in her eyes.

  I’ve never been confused with a Being of Light before, and to be honest I’m doing everything in my power to hide the disgust I feel at that. At this point, I find it counterproductive to correct her preposterous assumptions, so I bite my tongue for the time being.

  “Katniss,” I sigh, “Many boys are going to like you. You are an incredible young woman. That said, you don’t have to choose any of them, especially if you’re not comfortable. If Gale Hawthorne knows what’s good for him, he’ll come back and apologize for imposing himself on you. Otherwise, you did nothing wrong and you don’t owe him anything. Be sure you are happy and safe. Even… even when I’m around. You have such an incredible power to you. Don’t be sad about any of this. Chin up and be a great example for little Prim.”

  “Thank you, Peeta. You always know what to say to make me feel better.” She reaches for my hand taking me by surprise, and squeezes.

  My eyes fall to our entwined hands, and I marvel at the sight; there’s a fluttering of emotions in my chest. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never been touched by a human willingly, in friendship or otherwise. It’s extraordinary to say the least.

  I clear my throat. “You should go inside.”

  I watch her duck into her house, and for the first time since the inception of Earth, I remain frozen in one place for the night without seeking a mate to pollinate.

—————

  Two weeks after Gale kissed Katniss, and they still aren’t on speaking terms. They avoid each other and start hunting separate parts of the woods in different schedules.

  Gale is 18 and can opt for a job at the medicine factory that opened up after the rise of the New Panem some ten years ago. He can also apply for a farming license and get a lot with fertile soil to work. Katniss is still too young to apply for any of that, but she’s old enough to marry.

  I will never understand the arbitrariness of human’s law regarding age of consent. A girl of marrying age, should be a girl of independent working age. But what do I know? I’m just a Being of Darkness; such conundrums are beneath me.

  Yet, I’m standing here in the other side of world, pondering on it!

  She doesn’t own me! If I’m going to obsess over a human, I still want to be me. I don’t want her to turn me into some angel I’m not.

  I don’t want to be a piece in this girl’s involuntary game.

  So, on my sweet, beautiful Katniss trudges to the woods teeming with game and wild herbs, waiting for her clever hands to pluck, either the string of her bow, or the greens off the forest floor; it matters not. Her family will eat better than her many neighbors, who sadly still live in poverty despite the new era of freedom.

  Ugh… curse that resilience and strength of hers! She’s irresistible!

—————-

  It’s late in the evening, the last remaining rays of sun just disappeared in the distance, not quite moonless, but dark enough to make anyone uneasy.

  A greasy, disgusting man spots Katniss slinking away from the dead electric fence, and lunges at her like a fiend. He takes her by surprise, and gets a hold of her game bag, which is quickly discarded carelessly on the ground. Katniss tries to fight the man back, gritting her teeth and growling like a rabid animal, but it’s no use.

  Despite how heavy set the man is, he’s quick on his feet, and has restrained Katniss by the wrists.

  The man reeks of white liquor. His balding head has a few long hairs combed to the side, which does nothing to hide the shine of his scalp. The disgusting creature is talking filth into Katniss’ face when I finally step out of the shadows and stalk his way. He doesn’t see me, too distracted on Katniss… MY Katniss.

  She’s doing everything in her power not to show how terrified, how trapped she is, but her eyes are filling with tears and this miserable maggot is feeding off it.

  The man presses his disgusting body into hers, and she tries to kick him off, snarling a threat that doesn’t reach him. The brute shoves her against a tree; she chokes a small sob back and begs him to stop, while shaking like a leaf. The man laughs, then sticks his nauseating tongue out of his mouth, and licks her face, from her chin to her temple … That’s the last thing I remember cohesively.

  I blink, and the next thing I see, there are blood, guts and gray matter splatter everywhere.

  The ground, the trees, my hands and clothes, everything is covered in gore. The man’s corpse lays shattered on the ground in two pieces ripped straight down the middle, from his head downward.

  I gasp her name, scanning the scene frantically until I see her, huddled up behind a tree with her head buried into her arms that rest on her knees.

  I call her name again, but she doesn’t respond to my voice. She mutters something I don’t catch, so I try to touch her. She yelps as soon as my fingers brush her shoulder, and scoots away from me like a crab running from a seagull.

  “No!” She yells batting my hand away.

  “Katniss—“

  “What are you? You’re no angel at all are you?” She stumbles to her feet shakily. I try to follow but she stomps her feet like a toddler in mid-tantrum. “Stay away from me! Monster. Mutt. Whatever you are!” She takes off running home, snatching up her game bag as she goes.

  The only evidence linking her with this horror sight is gone, so it’s time to cover my own tracks.

  I extend my arms straight, at my sides, I close my eyes summoning nature to me. When the hair covering my arms stand with static and my fingers tingle with tiny shocks of electricity, I clap my hands way above my head bringing down a mighty flash of lighting that scorches the ground and singes the bark of the nearest trees.

  Looking at my handiwork with satisfaction, I leave Panem behind. It’s the last time I stalk Katniss Everdeen, awake or asleep. Anonymity is my gift to her.

  Sure enough, when morning comes, the death of that awful man, gets attributed to lightning.  

——————

Plump, bodacious Delly Cartwright is as opposite in looks and personality to Katniss as humanly possible. I chose her painstakingly for that very reason. Her hair is a mess of yellowish curls that remind me of the majestic mane of a lion. Pretty enough face, with fair skin dotted with freckles, thin pink lips framed by laughing marks and wide set blue eyes full of trust and kindness.

  Delly’s had a sheltered, pampered life, and is very free with her affection. She is engaged to be married come Spring, but she’s by no means a pure, innocent virgin. I go at her like a dog with a bone.

  I’m in the process of covering her eyes with my special heavy sleep scales, to ensure she won’t wake in the middle of our tryst, but I feel the tug overpowering my whole body before I hear Katniss’ voice calling me by my proper, given name.

  Delly stirs in her sleep, while I try to hold on to the bedposts, refusing to answer the summon, but Katniss says my name again. It’s too powerful a pull. My fingers slip off the polished wood and my body pops out of existence in this room, and snaps back into being outside the familiar tiny shack the Everdeen women call home.

  The air crackles around me with electric pulses and a cloud of fog surrounds my body.

  Once the fog clears, I can see the single oil lamp sitting on the porch railing, illuminating the slim figure of the girl I’m trying to avoid with all my might.

  She’s beautiful though. I take her in hungrily.

  She’s standing barefoot on the old doormat that’s seen better days, wearing a white, threadbare nightgown I’ve never seen her in before. An equally threadbare shawl that can’t be providing any warmth in this chill wraps around her shoulders. Her hair falls loose down her back, but she keeps fiddling with the end of a lock she’s twisted around her fingers.

  Her pink lips tremble slightly from cold every time she exhales a foggy puff of breath from her mouth.

  Without really stopping to think of what I’m doing, I glide up the porch steps until I’m in front of her and tighten the shawl over her chest with both of my hands.

  “You’re shivering. You shouldn’t be outside in this cold with so little clothes on.” I try to sound stern, but my voice is too soft and caring.

  Her lips twitch up at the corners. Her gray eyes shine in amusement. “I wouldn’t have gotten so cold if you hadn’t taken so long to show up. I called you over 120 seconds ago!” She admonishes in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  I narrow my eyes at her, trying to figure her out, but I give it up when her teeth start clattering together. She speaks before I can comment further.

  “Come inside with me?” It’s not really a request, since she’s holding my hand like a vise and dragging me towards the door.

  “Is that wise?” I ask her arching an eyebrow. “I’m not the Being of Light you previously thought I was.”

  She scowls at that, “No, you ain’t. But you’ve still saved my life more times than I care to remember. I owe you, and I’m not very comfortable having a debt so steep hanging over my head.”

  “Consider the balance void, Katniss. It’s safer that way.”

  She purses her lips and tightens her hold on her shawl. “We’ll see.” She pushes the door open and in we go, without hesitation.

  “I spoke to Greasy Sae,” she tells me, as we cross the living room and kitchen area, into the bedroom with the two beds, both empty tonight. “She’s the oldest person in the District, you know.” She states as if that explains anything.

  “There’s a wealth of wisdom in the elderly’s counsel,” I comment looking at her profile curiously.  “What did this Sae have to say?”

  Katniss pulls a chair from a writing desk and motions me to sit. I obey without questioning it.

  Katniss shrugs, “I asked many things, really. Sae talks a lot, and she knows everyone, so people come to her for advice.” She sits on her bed opposite me, yet her eyes shy away from mine.

  “What advice did you ask for?”

  “No advice. Just information.” Her eyes flick to me quickly, then go back to a point over my shoulder. “You know, what you did to Cray… well, it wasn’t subtle at all.” She finally pierces me with a glare, but that only lasts a second. “I mean, you tore his body in half with your bare hands and left his carcass to rot in the meadow. Who does that?!” Another glance, this one I can’t tell if she’s disgusted or terrified. She should be both.

  “I made it appear as if had been a lighting strike.” I protest.

  “It wasn’t storming that night, Peeta. We had beautiful, clear skies the whole, entire week. People knew something supernatural was behind that monster’s death.”

  “He was about to do terrible things to you, Katniss. Have you thought of how scared and devastated your sister would’ve been if something awful had happened to you?”

  “Of course I have!” She interrupts me. “It would’ve destroyed her. Don’t get me wrong, people are happy to see the bastard gone, because he’s always had a history with harassing girls, but everyone is scared now of something they don’t understand and can’t start to explain! The whole district is so shocked they close their shutters earlier, hide their youngsters fiercely, walk in large groups when going places like school or the market. Even at school teachers step out of their classrooms to make sure the students milling around the halls are safe. It’s horrible and traumatic…”

  “Then you know why I had to take care of that predator.” I spit venomously.

  Her shoulders sag, “I know.” The pinched look falls off her face.

  She stands up and walks towards me.

  In a surprising move, she lowers herself sideways on my lap. My arms go around her waist immediately, in case she changes her mind, but Katniss leans her head onto my shoulder and sighs deeply.

  In all the centuries I’ve fucked my way through humanity, I’ve never been this close to a girl before. I do not mean merely physically, but intimately. I’m not sure how to respond and reciprocate the affectionate gesture, so I settle for resting my cheek on the crown of her head.

  “Where’s your family?” I ask.

  “Tending to a birth. Twins. There’s some kind of complication, so mother took Prim to help her. They will be out all night.”

  I accept her explanation with a sound at the back of my throat. After a minute of easy silence, I ask, “Were you satisfied with the information you yielded from Mrs. Sae?”

  “No.”

  She doesn’t elaborate for a few minutes.

  “How did you know Cray was attacking me?” She finally asks shuddering in my arms.

  I scowl. “That kind of evil. It comes from me.” I tell her. “I recognize the ones who maim the soul and hurt the spirit, because that’s my job. That perversion originates from the same darkness I come from, and responds to the same urges I do.”

  Katniss tries to appear unperturbed about my words, but she can’t hide her trembling.

  “Sae said she didn’t recognize any spirits by my descriptions. I tried to remain vague and distant, as if asking on someone else’s behalf, but she was troubled by my questions, and I think she knew I’d witnessed Cray’s disembowelment. I had to stop my inquiry.”

  “I’m right here, Katniss. You can ask me anything you want to know. Isn’t that why you called me here tonight?”

  She shakes her head in denial. “Sae said it sounded like a dark one was protecting his mate, or maybe grooming a prospective mate. But of course, she’d never heard of something quite like you. She didn’t know who or what you were. She couldn’t tell me how to proceed.” Katniss straightens up, and stares into my eyes apprehensively. “I have an idea of how you may like me to pay off my debt to you.” She says blushing violently, averting her eyes and fiddling with her shawls fringe.

  She breathes in deeply, and lets the shawl fall from her shoulders. She takes my hand and brings it to her clavicle; her fingers interlace with mine, to venture under the neckline of her nightgown. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, I brush the soft skin of her full breast with the pad of my digits.

  Katniss presses my fingers to her delicate nipple, and I surrender my will to a human, for the first time in the memory of creation.

  I trace her areola gently, with practiced ease, until the nipple puckers up in response. Her own hand falls away, leaving me to my own devices.

  Katniss shudders a little, clenching her eyes closed. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” She asks me, not quite in accusation, but unsure and fearful

  “Yes.” I tell her. No sense in denying the truth. I lean into her ear to whisper, “Katniss, you should have left that debt alone when you had the chance, Sweetheart.” She shivers in my arms, but presses her torso against my body.

  “This is the price isn’t it?” Her voice wavers.

  “Partially. The price I’m charging is something you already told me you were unwilling do. Now we will have to come to some agreement.”

  “How long have you been touching me like this?” She’s holding back tears, but not stopping the pinches and kneading of my fingers on her flesh.

  “I’ve only done this twice to be honest. I palmed your behind once. Somehow, touching you without your knowledge feels… wrong.” She nods, a stray tear trails down her cheek. I nuzzle the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Katniss. I’m not a one mate being. I go around the world, taking women such as yourself during their sleep, oftentimes impregnating them with my spawn. It’s not my custom to groom my partners, but everything about you has been different from the beginning.”

  “Aren’t I the lucky gal?” She spits bitterly, yet her breathing is getting shallower and a pretty blush is starting to color her skin from her face to her chest. She’s actually enjoying my ministrations on her breasts. “What makes me so special?” She asks.

  “You’re strong minded. One of my powers is to whisper things into a human’s ear, and plant ideas, orders, images… you’re too stubborn to listen to any of that. I’ve command you to cut all of your ties to that Hawthorne boy at least thrice, but you’ve refused to forsake his friendship and companionship each time.

  “I’ve tried to get you to wear dresses and shifts to bed, but you keep wearing your father’s clothing even to sleep.

  “Every time I try to induce a sexual dream into your mind, you clam up, and never stay asleep long enough to get too far into the dream for it to affect you the way I’d want it to. But, things seem to be changing right now.” I pull my hand out of the neckline of her gown and place it on her knee.

  Once I make to hike my hand up her thigh, Katniss clenches her legs together, whether she’s doing it to deny me access, or because she can’t handle the arousal, I am not sure. I drop my hand off her knee all the same.

  “I can’t take you without your consent, Katniss. That much is clear after my failed attempts at wooing you while unconscious.” I whisper into her temple, dropping a sweet, barely-there kiss. “This ‘grooming’ debacle has happened both ways.” I state. “Katniss Everdeen, you’ve tamed the feared and despised Incubus.” She gasps. I suppose, Incubus she’s heard off before.

  “I’m still a demon.” I say solemnly, “A sex fiend. My nature hasn’t changed, despite your domesticating me. You could reject me right this second, and I’d go away without ever touching you. But, once out of your snaring presence, I’d have to prowl around in search of other women to satisfy my needs.”

  “You’re saying that other women and girls well-being rest upon my shoulders?” She asks looking a little green in the face. “You couldn’t possibly do anything to them without their express permission, would you?” She sounds hopeful, and her eyes are pleading.

  “You’re the only one with power over me, Katniss. I only care for your wants and dislikes. I am yours to command, anyone else is disposable.”

  “How am I supposed to agree to these terms, Peeta? You… you’re- you molest women in their sleep! You get them pregnant against their will and nearly every one of them dies as a result of your encounters with them.” Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t look away from my own. “I never want to have children. But that’s what you want from me, isn’t it?” She murmurs shakily, her body sagging into my chest. “I don’t want to die either. My sister needs me.”

  “Katniss, I’m obsessed with you, because you’re the sturdiest girl I’ve met. You’re a survivor. You don’t give up when you know the difference between death and survival is you. I’ve been investing my own powers on perfecting your body and preparing your internal organs so you’re in top condition for mating, sustaining a pregnancy and delivering a live half human, half demon child.”

  This stuns her a second. “You really were grooming me for years.” She sounds devastated. “I told you I didn’t want marriage, loving a man that could die and take away my will to live to his grave with him. It happened to my parents. I can’t abandon my children to their fate the same way my mother did to me and Prim. You knew all this. I told you all about it before… you still want me to… to—” she chokes back a sob and clams up.

  I’m aggravated with her. I had walked away from her, left her alone, freed her from my presence, yet she summoned me back here because she can’t let some fabricated debt go. I growl lowly, trying to keep my temper under control. She really won’t be able to survive my wrath, and I don’t want to harm her in an angry rush.

  “Since you insisted on calling me here, then I must inform you, you will become pregnant if we mate. That’s a guarantee. But I’m no man. I can’t die. I will never grow sick and time will never age me. My children won’t suffer human needs either. They’ll be strong and capable of hunting their own meals, much like you do now. If you can’t mother them properly, I will take them away and raise them myself. We have little room for negotiations at this point. Mating and childbearing are inescapable if you pursue the debt route.”

  “Kill me now then!” She snaps, trying to push away from me, but I keep her in place with my hands.

  “I will not kill you.” I say it like it is a command.

  “If I refuse to m-mate?”

  “Will you?” I counter. “Mating will happen on your terms. On your time.” My voice sounds gentler now, like it was before. “Then I’ll leave you alone for good if that’s what you want.”

  “You… you would?” She’s shaking all over.

  “My word is my bond.”

  “What should I call you? Master? Sir? Lord?”

  “Peeta. Just Peeta. That is my given name.” I tell her simply.

  “Why me? Why now?”

  “I don’t quite know. I just know you’re the one strong enough to stand the physical toil of carrying my offspring which has caused all the previous hosts’ demise.”

  She nods absentmindedly. I’m surprised when Katniss starts undoing the tiny buttons at the neckline of her gown, and slowly slips off my lap, to stand between my legs. I lose no time pulling the soft material covering her body down her arms, to pool at her feet. I stare at her naked torso and then at the apex of her thighs, drinking in her beauty with relish.

  “I’ve never seen you nude before.” I tell her in awe, rubbing my hands up and down her arms.

  “Let’s do this now. No sense delaying it. It would happen eventually anyway.” She says, shyly.

  She most see the greed and lust in my eyes, because she tries to cover her chest and the curly, black hair covering her sex. I remain seated on my chair, until she starts squirming under my heated gaze.

  “Do as you must, Peeta. Do it quickly.” She says after forcing her eyes back to mine.

  “You need to be more specific, Katniss. Otherwise I’ll stay planted here until dawn slashes me away.” I tell her arching a brow. I burn with desire for her, but I cannot move without her permission.

  She grunts and taps a foot impatiently. I smile at that. She’s still so strong willed even now, and so pure deep down; it’s endearing.

  “Take me, Peeta. Now. Mmm… sexually.” She punctuates.

  I can’t help smirking deviously. I stalk up to her and reach my hand to rest on the curve of her waist, gently pulling her forward.

  “I am going to kiss you now.” I purr into her ear.

  Kissing my partners is unusual for me, but this is Katniss. I take her lips with mine in a searing kiss that burns down my body. I lay her on the bed blindly, caressing her velvety skin tenderly.

  I’ve master the art of masturbating my conquests to assure lubrication, but other than that, I’ve never given thought to foreplay for the sake of pleasing my partners. I’m doing things here, I’ve never done before. Human lovers may be more adept at romancing, but I’m doing my best to pleasure Katniss with my hands, lips, tongue and words.

  I taste, kiss and nip at her skin. I tweak, pinch, knead and caress her flesh; I suck on her nipples and nuzzle the cleft between her thighs. She tenses, melts, and chokes back sounds on intervals every so often, not quite sure if she should resist me or enjoy the sensations I’m evoking in her.

  “Relax, Katniss. Clear your mind. Enjoy the moment.”

  She lifts her head in time to watch me take a long swipe of my tongue along her labia. Her head falls on the flat pillow and a soft moan escapes her sweet mouth.

  “You smell and taste divine.” I tell her while inserting my middle finger inside her warm, wet pussy.

  Finally, Katniss cries out my name, and I swear it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced.

  A second and then a third finger find their way inside her making her bow off the bed. She’s moaning loudly now. My thumb makes contact with a small kernel of flesh I haven’t really paid much attention to while with other women.

  Katniss shouts with the first few passes of my thumb, she begs me not to stop, to “please, please, please, keep doing that!” And I can’t resist lapping at the copious arousal bathing my hand and Katniss’ thighs.

  I’ve made women orgasm before, unintentionally of course. They cum just by the sheer size of my shaft, but it’s never been as extreme as this. My sweet, little Katniss arches off the bed, her shout dies in her throat, and then she falls on her back, convulsing and twitching.

  At some point her fingers tangled in my hair. She pulls on it every time she shudders her release, until she lays still.

  I sit up and catch my reflection on the oval mirror propped on Mrs. Everdeen’s night table, next to the blade her late husband used to shave his face. Both items remain in the same spot they were left at 6 years ago. Young Primrose polishes the reflecting surface everyday, readying it for a father that will never use it again.

  As I take a minute to inspect my appearance, I’m surprised I don’t have Gale Hawthorne features. I’m taken aback at how young and kind my face is. I guess I must be 16 or 17 in her mind’s eye. Blond, wavy hair. Warm blue eyes. Chiseled jaw, defined upper lip and a strong straight nose. I rip off the simple white button down shirt covering my upper body to find lean, defined muscles over a wide set of shoulders that look strong and used to manual labor. My skin is fair with a smattering of freckles and light blonde hair cover my arms. I realize this is what Katniss finds appealing. Whatever she’s attracted to.

  I look down at my trousers, and see flecks of flour on dark brown sturdy material. I find it amusing that she’s dreamt me off to be a baker of all things, but I guess in her mind, it makes sense. I did give her bread in the backyard of an abandoned bakery the first time we met.

  I will the rest of my clothes gone, and it disappears on the spot. I kiss her navel sweetly, and hook my elbows under her knees. When I sit up, I pull her hips towards mine.

  “My turn.” My voice is raspy and needy. Katniss nods, widening the opening between her thighs for me.

  “Will you… fit?” Her voice wavers, her gray eyes watch the turgid appendage between my legs nervously.

  My cock twitches. “I will fit, Sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it.” I assure her sweetly, caressing her outer thigh.

  She nods. “Okay.” She breathes out softly. “I’m ready.”

  Katniss gasps when I run the head of my dick through her wet, swollen folds, and without much ado sink my full, long girth into her in one swoop motion. She releases a breathless, long, drawn out moan once I’m seated all the way in. She’s so tight and warm, I wish I could freeze this moment, here, right now, and live in it forever. Alas, time is not something I have control over, so I give into my need and start moving.

  Katniss keens breathlessly every time I rock into her. She’s digging her blunt nails into the skin of my shoulder blades, after having hooked her slim arms under mine. Her face is practically buried into the hollow of my neck, letting me feel the brush of her lips and her hot breath against my pectoral with every thrust. Having her awake for this was the best decision ever!

  I kiss her sweaty forehead, and bury my nose in her hair. She always smells so good, like lavender and fresh rain. I kiss her temple, and then her cheek; lastly I kiss her lips and she sighs into it.

  “Does it feel good?” I ask her, genuinely interested in her answer.

  She nods faintly. “It feels… wonderful. Different. Strange. I feel so full, like I’m stuffed to the brim, yet I need more of you, of your… hmmm…”

  “Cock,” I supply. “Call it a cock.”

  “Alright.” She breathes out. “I- I think I like the feel of your… cock, in me.” She says rubbing her cheek against mine.

  “Good. Let me know when you get tired, and I’ll finish.”

  She gives me a frowning look. “You can do that at will?” She asks.

  I shrug. “Usually. Sometimes, when I’m to keyed in, I just explode after a few pumps. It’s not very often. But it’s happened.”

  “Well, I don’t want to rush you, but, my legs are starting to cramp up, so…” she winces.

  I chuckled and kiss her mouth again. “Alright, Sweetheart, your wish is my command. I’ll fill you up with my thick cum right away.”

  She’s trying to smile at my jesting words, but I pick up my pace before she can respond, and soon I’m driving into her like a possessed madman. It only takes a few pumps, but it takes almost a full 2 minutes to finish spilling my load into her. My hands aren’t idle during my release though.

  My thumb presses tight, fast circles against her clit, and my sweet, beautiful Katniss starts clenching and shaking with her own orgasm. I nearly mistake her body obviously reacting to my semen because she’s riding her release at the same time as her organs start knitting the embryo of my heir deep in her womb.

  Her body tenses, and breaks out into a high fever. She shivers and her lips turn pale and dry, her skin is ashen and papery, and her eyes are closed. She’s convulsing in my arms, but not in blissful orgasm anymore. Since I’m still inside her, I can feel every one of her muscles contract on my cock, and it is too much for me to bear, I pull out of her quickly and spill a second load just shy of her pussy. I gather her into my arms, and mumbled an incantation into her hair, holding tightly to her.

  I’m not allowed to pray, but that doesn’t stop me from pleading for her life over and over as I sit on the bed with her limp body cradled to my chest. “Please, don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die…”

  Fuck! I don’t care if the child lives as long as she does… and I keep rocking her until morning surprises me, and Mrs. Everdeen walks in on me holding her almost dead daughter.

  ——————

  Katniss gives birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl.

  The child looks completely human with a mop of dark hair on her head and the bluest eyes a child can have at that age. Still, rumors break out of the origin of the child, and people start attacking both Katniss and the babe when things start getting too weird for them.

  Mrs. Everdeen reluctantly accepts her daughter has mated with a demon, and has a very hard time looking her in the eye. I’m sure the fact that she sees me as an exact replica of her dead husband, has to have caused some psychological disturbance for the healer. It must have been unpleasant to walk in on her obviously freshly fucked daughter, limp and unresponsive in the arms of a man that looks just like the father of said daughter.

  Primrose is not allowed to stay in the same room with her sister and niece without Mrs. Everdeen present, and Katniss is livid about it.

  “I’ve practically raised Prim on my own at the age of 11, when you were too sick to care for anyone, least of all yourself! We are all alive thanks to Peeta!” She yells at her mother one day while bitter tears slide down her cheeks.

  Mrs. Everdeen asked Katniss to leave the house, after catching my reflection on the window glass while the baby nursed. The healer can’t stand my presence, let alone the appearance my body takes in her mind’s eye, particularly when I can’t hide my lust for Katniss regardless of the face I’m wearing.

  On top of the obvious, understandable reasons why Mrs. Everdeen wants nothing to do with her oldest daughter, she claims to be afraid I’ll go after Primrose as well, as if I could have the faintest interest in the young girl, when I only have eyes for the mother of my child.

  “Please don’t say that cursed name in this house, Katniss. That monster will be drawn to it.”

  “I can call his name whenever I want, because he’s the father of my child, your grandchild!” Katniss argues. “He has never done anything to harm us. He’s saved my life numerous times, and he’s fed us, and kept our health when he didn’t have to. You’re being unreasonable!”

  “She really is not.” I say in my most gentlemanly voice, as I shimmer into existence in the middle of their room. “Your Mother has reason to distrust me, but to displace her own daughter and brand new grandchild is cruel.” I say turning eyes full of fire to the woman cowering away from me.

  I go back to Katniss and smile, showing her only placid blue when she looks into my eyes. “Do not worry, Katniss. You’re mine to care for, and that I will do. As for your family…” When I shift my gaze to Mrs. Everdeen, my pupils have taken over the blue of my irises, leaving only a pool of empty darkness. “We will figure something out.”

  ————————-

  The babe nurses with vigor, and my favorite time of day is when I sit and watch the evening feedings. My fascination with the baby is offset by my ever growing lust, sparked by Katniss’ exposes breasts.

  When the child is asleep and safely tucked in her crib, I take Katniss to the living room of the grand house I built for her in the middle of the woods. I strip my lover of her clothing, piece by piece and drag her to her own bedroom, where the softest, most comfortable bed waits for us.

  She doesn’t want to be pregnant again so soon, so she bends over and lets me take her in the rear.  By the sounds she makes, I dare say she enjoys it greatly. Her pussy doesn’t stay neglected though; my fingers keep my sweet, beautiful mate satisfied and relaxed.

  I seldom need another body to satisfy me anymore, but until I have a mature offspring to take my place devouring the sleeping women of the world, I’m bound to keep prowling the Earth seeking to douse a dying lust for other cunts; my conquests all fall flat and insipid compared to the vivacious woman I have waiting on me back home.

  I’m not sure when Katniss’ place became Home for me, but it is the place I always return to.

————————

  Katniss starts hunting again six months after the baby is born.

  On the second day, the child sits in her pen while Katniss skins the game. The baby cries and cries until her mother picks her up and sits her on her lap as she works. Katniss shrieks when the child’s chubby hand plunges into the bucket of entrails next to the stool they sit on, and tries to bring the gore to her open mouth. The little girl throws a mighty tantrum, until she’s fed meat from a squirrel Katniss cooked. After that, the baby only wants to feed on game, not on vegetables and milk like normal babies.

  Katniss thinks it’s unnatural to feed a child so young meat, but she wasn’t truly frightened until a few days after the child’s first birthday.

  Primrose visits with her pet cat, Buttercup. Our baby grabs the feline by the tail and tries to strangle it with a choke hold worthy of a professional wrestler. Primrose nervously laughs it off as childlike curiosity and lack of force control, but Katniss knows better. Our child tried to kill and eat Buttercup.

  I knew it was time to take charge of the toddler.

  Katniss cries with guilt, because she now understands her own mother’s fears, but still hands the little girl over to me, to take to my realm. They get to see each other every day, and our daughter loves her mommy to death. They just don’t understand each other’s natures, and know it’s better to remain separate.

  Our daughter’s growth has accelerated in my realm, so she’s now at the level of a 5 year old child.

  “Will she kill humans?” Katniss asks me tearfully one night after my seed is drying between her thighs.

  I lean down and kiss her temple. “She might. She may become a Succubus. She may become something totally different. She’s still half human, darling. Only time will tell.”

  That’s poor comfort for Katniss, so she cries in my arms until fatigue takes over her. I can’t help myself. I fuck her again while she’s asleep, and this time I don’t pull out when my release is imminent. That’s when it happens again. Only this time the reaction is different. Obviously supernatural.

  Her breathing picks up, her mouth falls open, her skin starts to glow. I place my hands on her abdomen, where the glow is more intense. I push my erection inside her pussy, because I want to feel it happening from the inside, and the heat leaching from her walls is almost unbearable. Her forehead breaks into fat beads of sweat, her skin is burning up, and she shivers uncontrollably under my weight. I’m involuntarily cumming again. My hips can’t stay still, so I give in and piston into her at a frantic pace, digging her slim frame deeper into the mattress.

  Poor, exhausted, Katniss, passes out before I can pull out of her. Much like the first time, my mate is in a short coma for the next week.

  I make her mother tend to her like I did the first time as well. This time, Katniss delivers twin baby boys.

  There’s absolutely no doubt at all the infants are my spawn and hold the powers of the incubus. When Katniss holds them, they look exactly the way she sees me: soft blonde curls that fall on their forehead in waves, pleasant blue eyes like summer sky, long eyelashes that brush chubby, rosy cheeks. The boys look cherubic, and she can’t stop kissing them and showering them with attention.

  They’ve won over their grandmother completely as well. When Mrs. Everdeen takes them, the boys look just like Katniss: straight dark hair, gray eyes, olive skin. They have Mr. Everdeen’s chin. But if Prim is the one to hold them, they look completely different.

  The twins breastfeed exclusively, refusing any other nourishment well into two years of age. The boys are cunning, not showing any demonic tendencies, or habits that’ll scare Katniss away. Mommy— as they call her affectionately— is way too fond of them, and barely leaves their side. She’s lost weight and her skin and hair turned brittle, but her children come first all the time.

  They can’t fool me though. I catch them whispering thoughts into their mother’s head, planting ideas and fears she’s never had before, and I know it’s time to take them away when they don’t even try to hide their wrong doing from me, just staring boldly into my face, sporting identical smirks as they sing into Katniss’ ear they’re the only ones that love her in this world; they need her to care for them.

  Katniss fights me over them, until I show her how manipulative the little fuckers are: I’m fucking her in our bedroom while the boys are supposed to be soundly asleep in their own warm beds, instead, they sneak into our room and watch in fascination as I take her hard and fast. They snicker when my hand makes contact with their mother’s romp and I make the curtain fall, revealing their presence after casting a protective block on her mind against the boys’ trickery.

  Katniss scrambles to cover up her nakedness, but the boys ask excitedly when will they be able to do the same?

  I sit them both on my lap— that my mate has hastily covered with our sheets— and lovingly explain to my sons they will have their chance once they reach puberty. And the best part is, I’ll be able to retire!

  Katniss leaves the bed to wrap herself with a robe and watches my exchange with the boys disgusted from a corner of the room. Her limbs are tied into a tight ball, and her distress is palpable enough for the boys to pick up.

  “Not you mommy,” one of the twins clarifies.

  “Mommy belongs to you, father.” Adds the other one helpfully.

  “And she’s too sweet to break.” Explains the other.

  Katniss does not oppose me taking the boys after that.

  —————

  The third pregnancy nearly kills my Katniss.

  The baby’s aura is just too evil for her body to sustain. I conjure up my most powerful sleeping magic and cover her eyes with scales so heavy she stays asleep for three days.

  I take the child from her womb before she can wake up, but the little demoness survives.

  Katniss never gets to see her new daughter, and the child hates her mother so much I have no choice but to send her to the one place that can hold a being as dark as her. Deep into Hell.

  I tell Katniss the baby was stillborn and she never asks questions about it.

  ——————

  Katniss is 25 the day she becomes pregnant for the last time. She delivers a second set of perfectly healthy twins; a boy and a girl this time. Both completely human. Both looking exceptionally normal and nothing like me, except for their bright blue eyes. That trait could’ve come from Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose for all I know.

  I’m so out of my mind with rage, I terrorize poor Katniss by pretty much destroying everything in the house. I accuse her of sleeping with human men while I was away, Gale Hawthorne perhaps, since the babes have that Seam look to them.

  She denies it vehemently, bawling and pleading, so scared for her life, but shielding the newborns with her battered body after labor.

  I push her aside and stride to the crib, ready to smite the infants with a blow of my hand. She falls on her knees begging me to believe her, screaming her innocence, crying out my name pitifully. “Peeta, please, you have to believe me!”

  “Why should I?” I yell in her face.

  “Because… because… I love you, Peeta!” She cries out loudly, hanging from my wrist, my hand lifts her body off the floor wrapped around her delicate neck, squeezing it tightly.

  I see the petechiae forming in the white of her eyes. The oxygen in her brain will soon be too scarce to function.

  But she’s stunned me into silence.

  “No you don’t.” I slam her down to the floor gracelessly.

  Katniss’ tear stricken face looks up. She crawls closer to me ignoring her sore throat and neck. She tugs on my pant legs, pitifully. “I do, Peeta. It’s the truth.” She rasps painfully. “I’ve loved you since I was a little girl. I could never let any other man or being lay a hand on me. I’m in love with you.”

  “Well…” I struggle for something to say. I’m choked up, words won’t come to my aid. “You shouldn’t, Katniss. Nobody loves me. I’m a demon.”

  “And my body is your temple.” She pleads.

  But the imprint of my fingers marring her neck, are a reminder, not even living a thousand lifetimes atoning, would be enough to deserve her. “And look how well I look after my temple!” I speak mainly to myself, my voice dripping sarcasm and regret.

  “I am yours for eternity.” She vows placing my hand on her chest, where her heart is frantically pounding. “I give you my soul. Please, Peeta. No one has ever touched me, but you. I swear on all of our children. The infant twins included.”

  “Katniss! No!” I lament deeply, falling heavily on a chair the farthest away from the crib.

  “No what?” She murmurs, coming to caress my shins, then she massages my knees, and her nimble hands creep up my thighs, making a beeline for the fastenings of my trousers.

  My cock becomes hard as steel in a second. Katniss Everdeen has been the first and only human to perform oral sex on me. The way she falls on her knees to worship my cock with her mouth, and when it is evident my length will go down her throat only so far, her hands join the cult to my phallus and I loose all my faculties, along with my will to lord over her; I become her slave when her sweet mouth is around me, even when she’s the one in the servitude position. It’s one of the many reasons I know for a fact I could never leave her, is one of the reasons I know she’s my one true mate.

  But I ignore my erection and the all consuming need to be in her mouth. She’ll convince me to anything if I let her suck me off, then where will we be? There are more pressing matters than the gratification of my lust to consider.

  “Katniss, you shouldn’t have pledged your soul to me. That was foolish! Reckless. A gigantic mistake!” I tell her pulling at the roots of my hair, soft and silky, the way she likes it. “Now you truly belong to me, for eternity.” I tell her, and finally cup her cheek in my palm, tangling her dark tresses in my fingers.

  “Peeta, I live in the woods. Everyone has shunned me because I’m the Incubus’ whore. No one talks to me, but everybody fears me. I’m an outcast in this place. My mother barely stands to see me, let alone talk to me. My sweet sister is the only person who loves me and my children. In her eyes the kids are just her nieces and nephews despite their dark inclination, but Prim’s reputation suffers every time people remember we’re related, so I’ve been trying to keep my distance from her.”

  Katniss shakes her head sadly, and sits back on her haunches. “I chose you a lifetime ago. I knew the price of being your lover would be steep. I still choose you. Do you still not know this?”

  “Nobody has loved me before.” I mutter sadly.

  “Well, I do. And I will until you take me from this earth.”

  I nod, my mind resolved on what needs to be done.

  “The day the twins are completely independent, living their own lives, happily according to their own expectations, I’ll come for you, my beautiful mate.” I tell her. “Since these babies are human, they belong to you, and you will care for them until they reach maturity.

  “To makes things easier on you and them, no living human will remember anything about me. The children’s father will just be a foggy memory no one can quite recall. You will be safe, and I’ll be gone until time brings me back to you.”

  “And what of me? Do I sit here pretending I don’t miss you? Feeding our children lies about their father?“ She argues scowling at me angrily.

  “Sweetheart, I’m afraid you won’t remember much about me either.” I tell her firmly.

  “Peeta, you can’t! Peeta—“ She tries to catch my arm, her voice is full of anger and betrayal, but my enchantment is already done.

  “Until then… my love.”

  —————-

  The girl with dark hair and blue eyes dances on tip toes in the meadow. The boy with blonde curls and gray eyes tries to twirl like his sister, but his chubby legs can’t keep up.

  Katniss laughs merrily from her spot on the picnic blanket. I’ve never been good at staying away from her, but I’ve made an art of longing from afar without touching her, our the children. This time I can’t resist the temptation, and reach my index finger to brush away the lock of gray hair that has escape her loose braid.

  She shivers at my touch, and gathers her coat around her.

  “Children,” she calls, standing up and already folding the blanket, “it’s time to go home for the evening.”

  “Do we have to, Grandma?” Whines the little girl.

  “Yeah! Woo ve haf too?” Pipes up the toddler.

  “Remember, we promised mommy and daddy we’d come home early enough to take baths.” Says Katniss with a sweet smile.

  The little girl groans and kicks a pebble. Her brother tries to imitate the behavior, but can’t quite get the sass. Katniss rushes at them both, and takes them in her arms for hugs and kisses. The children laugh until they forget to grumble about cutting short their playtime.

  I gave my family new memories. Then I gave the whole district a similar version to complement.

  Katniss lives with our son and his family above the bakery we met at when she was a child. The walls leading up the apartment are covered with family pictures, full of love and happiness. There’s one single portrait of Katniss’ late husband among the pictures: a wide shouldered baker, with a riot of blonde waves on his head, summer sky blue eyes that match his twins’ perfectly, and a sweet lopsided smile that makes his widow’s heart swoon even now.

  “Tell us a story, Grandma!” Begs our grand daughter after her mother and father tuck her in bed.

  “Stowry!” Shouts the boy from his side.

  “Tell us about Grandpa and his watercolors!”

  Katniss laughs, and sits down on the children’s bed. She tells a beautiful story of how her husband used to paint beautiful pictures of flowers and plants for her, how her husband was a painter, and a baker, how he never put sugar in his tea, slept with his windows open, and always double knotted his shoelaces. I stare at my beautiful mate from the shadows, recounting a romance of great bravery, that defeated odds and trials, just to emerge victorious and true.

  I wish her memories were as real as the sweet smile they bring to her face.

  Rumor has it the baker died attacked by tracker jackers. A horrific and tragic death. Nobody wants to think about it, so they don’t. All anyone knows is that the Mellark’s are a respectable, loving family of bakers that had to survive without their beloved husband and father.

  Katniss learned her husband’s trade and passed it down to their twin children. Both very creative and skilled bakers in their own right. The boy married first at the age of 20. His wife is sweet and devoted and had her first baby the following year. The twin sister, decided to stay single and travel the world, learning culinary secrets from other places to improve the business back home. She returned recently with a dog in tow and has been trying to adopt an orphan girl she befriended in one of her travels.

  Katniss is almost 50 years old now. Tonight I’ve come for her. She’s lived a full, happy life reflected in the laugh lines around her lips and eyes. Her hair has streaks of gray all over; wrinkles and soft skin have appear on her face and arms, but she’s as beautiful as the day I left her.

  She’s asleep, and content. I almost regret waking her… but she’s mine, and I’ve missed her. The world is such a lonely place without her waiting for me everyday. Sure, I have my demonic clan to keep me company in the dark realm, but they’re all wreaking havoc on their own now, and fuck it, no other pussy compares to my mate, despite her human age. I haven’t taken another woman since I released the boys onto the world, they’re even more devious and manipulative than I ever was.

  The girls are the truly scary ones to be honest; they can kill any man with precision and never get a speck of gore on their pristine outfits. Deep down I believe it’s because of their mother’s hunting skills and stubbornness.

  I smile fondly at her, while hovering over her bed. I kiss her forehead, whispering the command into her mind. “Wake up, Sweetheart. It’s time to go home.”

  Slowly, her eyes open, and I see the bright gray hue I’ve missed so much all this years. A sweet, soft smile curls her lips slowly.

  “Hi, handsome. I’ve been waiting for you.” She says and accepts my kiss on her lips.

  “The adoption was approved.” I tell her quietly, of our daughter’s last pending matter. “The twins are already independent and have everything they’ve ever wanted. You did a beautiful job raising them. I’m here to collect you, darling.”

  “You look so handsome.” Katniss says “That silver hair suits you, and your wrinkles match my own. I always knew you’d look devilishly beautiful in your mature age. I’ve forgotten how striking you truly are, though.” She says caressing my cheek and smiling. “The children would loved to meet you.”

  “The children know their father loved them enough to give them a good life. They’re happy and have filling lives, It won’t do them any good to know me.” I tell her without self pity. “Now come, It’s time.” I take her hand, and help her up.

  “Oh!” She exclaims when her soul separates from her body. The wrinkles in her hands smooth out, her hair turns black as night and elongates to her waist that shrinks and tightens. She could be 16 again.

  She looks down at her old body lying peacefully in her bed, now an empty shell. Her eyes widen. “Am I dead?” She asks.

  I nod. “You pledged your soul to me, Katniss. It’s the only way we can be together for eternity,”

  “Will I get to see our children again?” She asks.

  “Any time you want.” I promise. “You’ll see and talk with the ones that live with me every day, but the ones we leave here, in the human world… They will feel your presence, but they will never see you again.”

  She looks sad about the news.

  “It’s the way of mortals, my love.” I tell her caressing her face tenderly.

  “It is.” She acquiesces, leaning into my touch, and then kissing the palm of my hand.

  “You gave them a good life and sweet memories to remember you by.” It’s not much, but it’s enough to get her to move on.

  “That I did.” She looks up at me, gifting me with a bittersweet smile. “Take me away, Peeta. I have so many hugs in store from the grand babies to give you.”

  “Then let’s not delay.”

  “You will really be content with me for eternity?”

  “Always.”