#my can be the voice of reason most of the time

[euthymiya]

khaenriahn princess reader x knight capitano ; jealous capitano ; implied hidden relationship ; pre cataclysm ; royal au ; capitano is not cursed yet so his skin is supple and youthful ; banter and fluff

“There is word, my lady,” his voice says lowly. You hum, reaching over to grab at his helmet. Capitano gently captures your hand before you can, pulling it away from its path to uncover his face. There’s a fleeting frown on your lips, but it’s gone as soon as he brings it up and presses a small, delicate kiss to the knuckles through the dark cloth that hides him from you.

“Oh? What of, my dear knight?” You ask curiously. Something tells him it’s almost mockingly innocent.

“That there is a rather…determined prince seeking your hand in marriage.”

Sometimes, it feels unfair that very rarely do you get to see the face hidden underneath the armor, but you suppose you don’t need to see Capitano to know exactly what emotion is twisted in his face. You fight back an amused grin—his voice tells you all you need to know.

You’re certain he must taste his own bitterness as the words fall from his tongue.

“Such grand news,” you gasp, “and yet…you speak with such hesitation. Has this news not brought you joy, my captain?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he says unamused, voice low and just shy of a grumble, “I value your wellbeing above all. Should a capable prince ask for your hand, I would be most delighted if that is what you accept.”

“You do not sound delighted at the idea,” you tease.

“Perhaps my lady has not given me reason to think she would be interested in such a proposition,” he mutters.

This time, his voice does, in fact, sound the slightest bit petulant—like a child who sulks after being scolded. His tone is usually one that is far too courteous. Painfully so, in fact. (You’ve spent a good number of exasperating moments insisting he be more casual with you. You reap the rewards of those efforts few and far in between). But now, he betrays himself with a flicker of frustration, far too evidently for even you to miss.

He realizes too late how childish the words must sound spoken so irritably. You can tell that he clenches his jaw, seeing the tension even under the mask as he forces himself to still the bitterness spreading through his veins.

“Tell me, my dear knight,” you grin. You can imagine the unhappy lift of his brow as you speak, “what makes you so certain I would be disinterested in such an enticing offer?”

“It seems my assumptions were incorrect,” he grunts, straightening his back before promptly adding, “forgive me, my lady. I must see to rather urgent military affairs. I shall be seeing you—”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Sir Capitano,” you quip, your hand grabbing at his wrist, tugging him towards you. He stills, stiff as a statue as your hand reaches for his helmet once more.

This time, he doesn’t stop you. He allows the lithe, delicate fingers he knows so well to grab at the edge of his helmet, carefully tugging it off before his face slowly reveals itself to you. You smile, cupping a cheek before tracing your thumb along the soft skin of his face.

“I am not jealous,” he says stubbornly.

“Haven’t they taught you never to lie to a princess?” You hum, stepping closer. His lips twitch just a fraction at the edges before two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. Flush against his chest. Tucked right against his heart. Pressed so close, you almost wonder if you could feel his heart beating through the armor if you paid close enough attention.

“You torment me, my lady,” he murmurs quietly, “I fear I cannot accept this arrangement. It would tear through my soul to watch you be wed to another.”

“Then do not watch me,” you whisper.

You have seen his eyes flicker with soft, warm affection countless times. There is beauty underneath the helmet he wears so often, beauty that not many are so fortunate to see. You see it often, though. In private, hidden moments that he affords you. In the quiet of your chambers where the maids cannot disturb you. In the corners of the palace where no one can interrupt your fleetingly lingering touches and longing gazes.

Your hands hold his face, slowly pulling him closer as you study every precious slope across his skin. The slightly jagged curve of his nose. The plumpness of his lips. The slant of his sharp cheekbones. Every feature you know by heart, and revisit in your dreams.

You smile lightly at the thought of his jealousy, as guilty as you should feel for teasing him. Your knight—and you, his beloved princess.

“Do you wish to marry a prince?” He asks, leaning into your neck, breathing in your scent as his nose trails up your jaw until it reaches your cheek. Your breath hitches. His lips quirk into a smile.

“I wish to marry someone who owns my heart,” you say breathlessly, “prince or not.”

“Perhaps what you need is someone who is far more capable of carrying the weight of your heart. You possess rather discerning taste—it is not easy to please you, my lady.”

You huff, glaring at him from the corner of your eyes as you ask, “do you mean to call me difficult?”

“Among other things,” he chuckles. There’s a light, teasing trail of kisses pressed to your skin, leading straight to your lips. Capitano knows exactly what he’s doing, though—he stops just at the corner of them, making you pout as you try to lean in and close the gap.

He grins smugly, pulling away just enough to create distance between your mouths.

“You should not toy with a princess,” you say, displeased.

He hums, rubbing the small of your back as he counters, “and you should not toy with the heart of a man devoted to you.”

“Forgive me, my dear knight,” you murmur, gently bringing his face closer as your hands cradle his face once more, “I shall not torment you with such teasing again.”

“I am most grateful, your highness,” he fights back a chuckle.

Jealousy is unbecoming on someone as noble as the captain of your military forces. You like the way it looks on him just a little, anyway. Love the way his posture is more rigid and his voice is sharper when forced to consider the possibility of your heart yearning elsewhere. Enjoy the way he holds you tighter and closer as cool armor steals your warmth.

“Shall I tell this prince I am not interested?” You ask with a knowing look.

He hums thoughtfully, a smug smile playing on his lips as he replies, “no, I think I’d rather witness the expression of his highness when he realizes his charms hold no sway over you—a rare defeat for a man so certain of his allure.”

“Someday I shall marry you, my dear knight,” you whisper. Finally, with a softened look, he leans in to kiss you. Slow. Delicate. So gentle, it almost feels like you are one whisper from the wind away from falling apart.

“I look forward to it, my lady. Not even celestia could stop me from claiming your hand.”

————————

The last line is a big rip if you know what I mean 😔

[cardo-de-comer]

soo helloo and i think it's time for me to explain the deal with my characters and this whole "you're not supposed to be here" thing.

i made these characters way back in june and by today they have a lot of lore around them in my head. i even have a dream to make a game with them but it's just a dream for now so i'm gonna try to explain the main things about this story. Obviously this is a long post, although I tried to keep this stuff short. and excuse me for my writing and any mistakes, I don't usually write this much text.

It starts with the world. Alternate 15th century, humanity is almost gone and what's left of it shares quite a big city with demons and angels. However, demons and angels are usually being treated like servants - eventually one gets tired of it all, so everyone knows an uprising is just around the corner. Let's just ignore that for now.

The City has a catch of it's own - it's alive. The walls have eyes and ears and the City knows every resident by heart and soul, both figuratively and literally. Usually City acts through the King, it chooses protectors for itself, ones who have strong minds to comprehend it - they will be called the royal knights, each of them have a company of a /more wiser than the rest of them/ demon and angel to help with their tasks. Only the King and ten royal knights know that the City is alive and very talkative but they don't understand fully what it's trying to tell them. Most of them choose to ignore the voices in their head because hey, that's what you do usually in this situation, otherwise they drive you nuts.

City is also extremely emotional and appearance depends on its condition. Usually it's a sunny day out and the city looks welcoming, but you don't want to be there when the City is scared: it might eat you alive by accident. Now that the environment is aside, time for the main three characters.

Imri is a young lad who will soon be a royal knight. He actually wanted to be a painter when he grows up but well, you cannot disobey the king's orders. Quite emotionless and a man of a few words, he tries to stay on a neutral ground between good and bad - a perfect candidate for manipulation to all three sides, demons, angels and the City.

look at him

Royal knights get to know their angel and demon companions at least a week before they get knighted to avoid any misunderstandings. Imri doesn't mind his friends at all, although one of them caused quite a fuss.

Angel /they name themselves Lyra/ is an overly positive, naive and blindly kind entity. A bit childish and very fond of justice, they try to act as a voice of conscience, not understanding that sometimes this can make everything even worse than it was. There is a feeling that they're trickier than it seems but you can never quite tell.

the latin text all over them is just a part of their design

The demon though... That's not even a demon, that's the Devil himself. Yes, everyone knows who this is, everyone avoids him and he's not supposed to be here at all. Despite being THE Devil, he didn't try to do anything horrific yet and, when he's not joking around, he tries to be the voice of reason, the voice that no one listens to. He seems to know a lot more about this whole world than anyone else but he talks about it only when he wants to.

no one likes him at all, expect maybe Imri who just tolerates his presence like he always does

That's the main three. There is a few secondary characters, Imri's father being one of them.

sir Jastrab is one of the royal knights, he's a bit naive, loyal, and a soul so kind that his demon hung himself. Oh well. He lost one hand in what he calls "a work accident" which is partly true but he never goes into details.

He never wanted for his son to be a part of the knights because he knows by experience that it's not an easy job and not every father wants for their child to go insane from the voices in their head.

few people said that the angel accompanying him looks like d20 and so be it

The others are Sun and Moon - local deities, despite being on the sky every day and night, usually they don't really care about what's going on down below. You can still talk to them but don't expect much action. Regardless of all this, they are still loved by almost all living things. They can rarely meet each other but humans always depict them together no matter what.

creators of the Stars - some part of a human soul that i can't talk about :)

Angels and demons come in all forms and sizes but those are the main population - lesser demons resemble the Devil in some ways and lesser angels look like clovers. Rivals usually but when the revolution happens, they learn to tolerate and work with each other. Humanity doesn't really have a chance.

they hate everyone equally And there is another being, that Imri meets a few times through the story - it's Death. Death is just having fun in this end of the world and there is a lot of work to be done.

this is an old and rough design so maybe it'll change The whole story begins at that day when Imri is supposed to be knighted. Everything seemed fine until Imri gets to hear the City for the first time and realizes that he hears and sees a lot more than everyone else. Completely overwhelmed he blacks out - even the toughest of minds often can't take it - and wakes up later only to find out that the King got killed somehow, angels and demons saw this as the starting point for a revolution and the City starts to panic.

Now Imri, guided by his companions and the voice of scared City that's crumbling and slowly drives him insane, shall travel to the center of it to find out what really happened, getting through demons and angels who are busy destroying the rest of humanity. Fun.

There is a lot more to this whole thing but I cannot tell the entire plot because spoilers, in case if i actually will make something out of this story. Think of it as a game lore. I'm not sure about making sth yet because i operate only on hopes and dreams and i barely have any strength lately but who knows... But now you have at least some context! And yeah, thank you if you actually read all of this, you're a hero.

Now i need to get back to drawing. Thank you all for your support. <3

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 10

Written with the help of my beloved @munson-blurbs

Summary: The time comes for the first custody hearing between Eddie and his estranged wife. You do your best to be there for both him and his sons.

Note: I do not know the ins and outs of the legal system, so I did my best when it came to the court scene

Warnings: mentions of bad parents, Brittany, slut shaming, i think that's it?

Words: 9.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

There’s just over a week to go until the first court date and you can tell your boyfriend is on edge. Every time he sees the boys, he’s overly cheerful. You know he’s trying to make it seem like nothing is wrong, but the kids aren’t dumb. They see right through the forced happiness, even confiding in you after school one day about how weird they think Eddie is being. That night you pull him to the side to relay that message—but in much nicer terms.

Since that discussion, Eddie’s been more himself. He still forces himself to be more upbeat around the boys, but that’s more of wanting them to be around positivity and as much light as possible while they continue to struggle with the thought of two separate homes. 

Once the boys are in bed, or are at the house with Brittany, you take advantage of the time alone with your boyfriend. He’s stressed beyond belief, and you want to make damn sure that he knows you’re here for him in whatever way he needs. 

Evenings usually start with dinner, then a movie on the couch, but end up with Eddie’s head on your lap and you play with his hair as he gets things off his mind. Sometimes you just listen, sometimes you speak your mind in reply. 

“I know I’m the better parent,” he tells you one night a few days before the trial. “But I also know that courts usually rule in the mom’s favor. And what if…what if the boys don’t want to be with me most of the time?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t they want that?” you ask. “You know you’re their favorite. Because you are the better parent.”

Eddie squeezes your hand gently where they rest entwined on his chest. 

“I know. But home is familiar to them. It’s the only home Luke has ever known and the only one Ryan remembers. There are memories there, their old rooms are there, their favorite toys. It’s safe and comforting.”

“Do you think it’s going to feel that way with just Brittany around?” you ask in response. “Also, I think you have a double-edged sword there.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you said that the boys have memories there.” With your free hand you gently boop the tip of Eddie’s nose with your index finger. “I’m sure there are memories from that house that the boys would rather forget. Yeah, there are memories of Christmases and birthday parties, but there are also memories of Brittany screaming at them for no reason. Or of times when their mom was supposed to come home for whatever reason, like dinner or a special occasion, but she was late as usual. Here, Ryan and Luke won’t look at the front door and think of all the times they stared at it, waiting for it to open with their mother on the other side. The walls here don’t hold disappointments like the ones at the house do.”

Eddie gazes up at you with those big doe eyes and a charmingly crooked smile.

“My college girl is so smart,” he says softly.

You chuckle in reply and bring a hand up to his hair. Gently, you scratch your nails against his scalp. Eddie hums in appreciation and turns on his side so his face is buried in your belly. He mumbles against the material of your shirt, but you can’t make out what he said.

“What?”

He pulls away just enough for you to hear him.

“I’m scared.” His voice is low, and he keeps eyes on your midsection. 

He’s never said that to you before. You frown as you gently card your fingers through his bangs.

“Of what?” you ask softly. 

Eddie shrugs and you move your hand to cup the side of his face, your thumb gently brushing over his left cheekbone. It feels like the entire apartment complex has gone silent, not a sound to be heard except your breathing. 

“A lot,” he finally admits. “Messing up in court and not getting to see my boys anymore. Brittany lying so viciously that I don’t get to see them anymore. Them deciding they don’t want to stay with me. Putting them in the middle of this and it messing with their heads. Of Brittany trying to turn them against me.” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip, and you know there’s something else that he doesn’t want to say. You don’t want to push him, but you also want to make sure he knows that he can confide in you. 

“What, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. You watch the reflection of the ceiling fan spin round and round in his dark misty eyes. After a minute of silence, Eddie reaches up and takes one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to the back of it before he holds it in his own and rests them on his chest.

“I know I can,” he says. “But I know you. And if I tell you that I’m worried that you’re somehow going to get hurt during all of this, you’re just going to tell me not to worry about you. Which, I don’t know if you know this or not, doesn’t really work.”

It's another double-edged sword, that he knows this about you. Because, on the one hand, it feels really good to be known so well and loved so deeply by him. But on the other hand, now you can’t use that reasoning with him, which doesn’t give you much of a leg to stand on. Instead, you come up with another question.

“How do you think I’m going to get hurt?”

A long inhale puffs up Eddie’s chest before a heavy sigh deflates it. 

“I’m worried someone is going to say something dumb on accident. Me or the boys. Or Brittany, only it wouldn’t be an accident. I’d rather you not be near us while all of this is going on, really. But I’m too selfish for that. I need you here with me.” He brings your joined hands up to his lips and presses a few kisses against your knuckles. “You keep me sane when the rest of the world is trying to throw me off my rocker.”

“Eddie, my love,” you begin, “it’s very sweet that you’re thinking about me but I’m not some delicate little flower that will crumble at an unintentionally—or intentionally, in her case—unkind thing that’s said while you’re all going through this. It’s insanely stressful, which can wear down patience sometimes. But I know you love me. I know the boys love me. The three of you would never say something to try and hurt me on purpose. And Brittany? Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass about what she says to me—or about me.”

A small smile grows on Eddie’s face, and you’re relaxed by the sight. He licks over his lips before he speaks.

“You be my rock now, and I promise to be yours from now on. Whenever you need me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you know what you’re signing up for there, buddy,” you say with a chuckle. 

“You somehow deal with me, a genius little boy who is always rattling off things that he’s learned, a little hellion tornado of a boy, and did I mention me? Princess, if you can handle the three of us, the three of us can be there for you with no problem.”

You gaze down at him with a fond smile on your lips. 

“I feel super honored that you trust me enough to open up,” you tell him in a voice close to a whisper. “I know how lucky I am.”

“I open up to you because I feel safe with you,” he tells you. “It’s weird, I never… This is a new kind of safety for me. Finding safety in another person. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed.”

“Me neither, honestly,” you admit. “It’s a deeper level of trust than I’ve ever had before.” 

“I thank God just about every damn day that you came into my life. And the boys’ lives.”

“Oh, Mr. Religious all of a sudden?” you tease, leaning down so your face is hovering over his.

“Hey,” Eddie says with a chuckle, “I’ll thank whatever being in whatever realm or universe that had us cross paths.”

“Maybe it was aliens,” you joke, widening your eyes in alarm.  

“Then I’ll learn how to thank them in Klingon.”

Your nose wrinkles up, and Eddie thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do aliens speak Klingon? Does Spock speak it? Is Spock even an alien?” you ask. 

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my nerd knowledge doesn’t reach quite that far. You’ll just have to be content with me knowing an inordinate amount about D&D creatures.”

You shrug, pretending to consider it.

“I guess I can live with that.”

The long-awaited Monday has finally arrived, and it fills everyone with nerves. Eddie took the whole day off from work, so he takes his time making the boys breakfast and getting them ready for school. 

As the two boys take their seats at the table, Eddie notices Ryan acting a bit more withdrawn than usual. Luke is his usual self, shoving spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth while his short legs swing back and forth beneath the table. Ryan is older and the more sensitive of the two, so Eddie isn’t surprised that he has the better sense of what will be happening today. 

“Whatcha gonna be working on today in school?” Eddie asks his oldest as he plops down between his boys at the table, a full bowl of cornflakes thudding on the table in front of him.

“Oh, uh,” Ryan starts, looking down into his bowl as his spoon stirs marshmallow pieces around, leaving streaks of blue, pink, and green throughout the milk. “We’re reading about Sacagawea.” 

“Ah, alright,” Eddie says between bites of cereal. “She was a pretty cool lady, huh?”

Ryan nods and scoops some oat pieces onto his spoon.

“Who’s Sar…Sarcas…Sarcophagus?” Luke asks through a mouthful of cereal. 

“Sacagawea,” Eddie corrects him with a soft chuckle. “Go ahead, Ry. Tell us what you’ve learned so far.”

“Uh, okay.” He sounds less than thrilled. But when the second grader starts to talk about something interesting he’s learning, he gets excited. “She was a Native American. And she went with Lewis and Clark to explore the west.”

“What makes her so cool?” Luke asks, shoveling in another spoonful.

“She did the whole thing with her newborn baby strapped to her,” Eddie replies.

“And she was only sixteen,” Ryan adds.

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

“She was a mommy at sixteen?”

Eddie thinks Luke’s eyes are going to pop out of his skull. 

“People had babies earlier back then,” Ryan answers, much to Eddie’s relief. He also notices the improvement in Ryan’s mood now that his brain has something else to focus on. 

The more pleasant atmosphere keeps up while the boys get dressed and Eddie packs their lunches. It does feel weird to put on a suit instead of his normal t-shirt and jeans, though. 

“You look funny,” Luke says as his eyes scan over his father’s gray slacks and matching blazer. 

“What else is new?” Eddie jokes, trying to keep the mood light. The white dress shirt tucked into his pants is an odd feeling and all Eddie can focus on is wanting to yank it free.

“Where’s your tie, Mr. Fancy Pants?” Ryan asks as he grabs his lunch off the counter.

Eddie stalls in his movements before turning to face his oldest son.

“Should I wear one?” He feels silly for asking the seven-year-old, but he feels self-conscious now that Ryan pointed it out. 

“I dunno,” Ryan answers with a shrug. “I just thought you’d wear one.”

The first real tick of nervousness hits Eddie now. It irks him that it’s not even about court itself, but whether or not he should wear a tie. He sighs and goes to grab one of the few ties he owns from his dresser. You’ll know if he should wear it or not. 

Instead of waiting for the bus, Eddie says he’s going to drive the kids to school since he has the time. He doesn’t have to be in court until this afternoon and he’s meeting you for coffee after your first class. 

It’s a nice mellow morning and it continues to get better when they’re all loaded up in the truck and Luke turns on the radio. 

“Ah, this song!” The six-year-old’s face lights up and he bops his head along to the beat. “It’s my favorite part!”

Both Ryan and Eddie join in to sing:

Chickity China, the Chinese chicken

You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin' 

Eddie turns the volume up as the truck approaches a red light. Once they’re completely stopped, Eddie thrashes his head back and forth, headbanging to the song that’s taken over the airwaves. Ryan and Luke both giggle, watching their father’s frizzy curls go flying all around, before joining in and headbanging to “One Week” as well.

The light turns green and Eddie resumes driving responsibly, but that doesn’t mean his boys have to stop headbanging.

It's been one week since you looked at me

Dropped your arms to the sides and said, "I'm sorry"

Five days since I laughed at you and said

"You just did just what I thought you were gonna do.”

Ryan finishes singing out the song while Luke flails his curls around for the remainder of it. It’s perfect timing, as Eddie is pulling into the drop-off lane at school just as the song ends. 

“I’ll see you squirts later, alright? Have a good day at school.”

“Bye, Daddy!” Luke gives Eddie a quick side hug before climbing over his older brother to get out of the car.

“What time are you going to be home?” Ryan asks.

“I’m not sure,” Eddie tells him honestly. “But I’ll definitely be home in time for dinner.”

The boy nods, placated by this answer. He leans in and wraps his arms as far as he can around his dad’s torso.

“I love you,” Ryan says. 

“I love you, too.” Eddie rubs his hand over his son’s back, trying to convey so many thoughts and emotions in the one touch. 

It’s going to be okay.

I’ll see you soon.

I’ll never stop fighting for you.

The moment Eddie sees you tucked away into the corner booth at the small cafe on campus, he feels lighter. Simply being in your presence is enough to melt Eddie’s stresses away. Instead of sitting down across the table from you, Eddie decides to slide into the same booth you’re sitting at and instantly wraps his arms around your waist.

Without looking up from the book you’re reading for your Renaissance Literature class, you say, “If you’re going to feel me up you better hurry, because my boyfriend is on his way.”

“This boyfriend of yours is very lucky,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to the side of your neck. 

“He is. Especially because I ordered his coffee just the way he likes it.” You shut your book and slide a white paper cup tucked into a brown cardboard sleeve in front of him. 

“You taste better,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss just below your ear.

The feel of his warm breath dancing across your skin coupled with his sultry words sends a shiver down your spine. Eddie notices the little tremor that passes through your body and pulls back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Drink your coffee,” you say, trying to will the heat away from your face as you put your book away. The last thing Eddie needs is to be late to court because you can’t keep your legs closed when it comes to him. 

That statement is especially true when you turn and get your first real look at your boyfriend. You’ve never seen him in a suit before and the urge to drag him into the back of your car grows even stronger. 

“Damn, you look good,” you say softly, leaning forward to run your hands over the material of the blazer. 

Eddie does his best to ignore the way your eyes darken and how you bite your lip—but it’s tough. Maybe this suit isn’t so bad after all. 

“Oh,” Eddie says as he remembers the rolled-up tie in his pocket. He fishes it out and holds it up for you to see. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear this or not.”

Your eyes take in the dark red tie, then look back over Eddie’s ensemble. 

“I say yes. It’ll add a nice pop of color, as well.” 

Eddie flips up his collar and slips the tie around his neck. You watch as his deft, guitar-playing fingers fiddle with it until it’s properly knotted. 

“Do you think I should put my hair back?” Eddie asks.

Opposing emotions fight for dominance in your body. One side is getting worked up because he already looks drop dead gorgeous and now he wants to put his hair back in a bun? Is he trying to kill you? But the other side hears the slight shake in his voice and breaks because this poor man is so nervous and unsure. Never more have you wished for a magic wand to wave and make all his problems go away. 

“Want me to tie it back for you, sweetie?”

He nods and you can see a minuscule amount of relief in his eyes. It’s no secret that he loves your hands in his hair, and it always calms him when you play with it. Though you don’t have time for that, you make sure to gently brush his hair back from his face with your fingers before securing it at the base of his neck. 

When he turns back around to face you, he lets out a sigh that has his shoulders sagging.

“I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly. 

“I know.” You reach up and gently cup the side of his face. “But everything is going to be okay. You’re going to tell the judge the truth and he’ll see that you’re the all-around better parent. And I’ll pick up the boys from school like usual and distract them to keep their minds off of what’s happening today. Even if I need to use puppies and candy to do it.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head.

“Great. Now I get to worry about coming home to a hopped-up Luke begging me to keep a dog.”

You smile at him and lean forward to gently peck his lips.

“You’ve got this, Eddie.”

He takes a deep breath and nods his head.

“I got this.”

Everything echoes. That’s Eddie’s first thought as he steps inside the courthouse. Every footstep, every cough, every conversation bounces off the walls and reverberates in the hollow space of the atrium. Brown eyes take in the gray marble that seems to cover every surface. Towards a hallway to the left, Eddie spots his attorney, which relaxes him and kicks up his nerves at the same time.

“Hey, Carl,” Eddie greets as he approaches the man. He can’t help but notice that his lawyer’s suit looks infinitely more expensive than his own. It makes sense though, given that the man practically gets paid by the hour what Eddie makes in a day.

“How are you, Mr. Munson?” Carl asks as he offers his hand.

Eddie’s told him several times to call him by his first name, but it always reverts back to the more formal. It makes Eddie feel old, though. When he hears “Mr. Munson” he either thinks someone is talking about Wayne or has flashbacks to Ms. O’Donnell scolding him in high school.

“Doing alright,” Eddie replies, but his shaky tone conveys that it’s less than true. 

“Ah, it’s going to be okay,” Carl says, gesturing for Eddie to follow him down a long hallway. “I’ve been in front of Judge Rogers plenty of times and he’s a fair guy. One of the better ones we could’ve asked for.”

Eddie nods his head and takes a deep breath as Carl comes to a stop in front of a set of mahogany double doors. The air in the courtroom is stifling, invading all of his senses. It only gets worse when he takes his seat next to his lawyer. 

Sweat beads at the nape of his neck, and it takes all of his willpower not to yank off his tie right then and there. His slacks—a far cry from his usual cotton coveralls or denim jeans—itch his legs. His dress shoes are laced too tight, squeezing his toes until he feels his pulse in his feet. 

I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this. 

Negativity floods every pore. Eddie shuts his eyes, steadying his breathing with reminders of who this is all for. In—Ryan. Out—Luke. 

Happiness. Peace. Love. Family. 

The room is silent, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. The secondhand glides past the twelve, signaling that it is now officially one o’clock. Time to begin. A glance at the other side of the courtroom shows that there is no other parent of Ryan and Luke present. 

The mahogany doors open once more and Eddie looks over his shoulder, expecting to see his soon-to-be ex-wife. But the only person walking down to the front of the room is another lawyer, by the looks of his suit. Brittany’s lawyer, presumably. He’s taller and younger than Carl, but Eddie just tells himself that means Carl has more experience on his side.

A heavy door behind the judge’s stand swings open on squeaking hinges and a bailiff steps out, the judge following right behind him.

“All rise,” the bailiff says. There are only three others in the room, so Eddie, Carl, and the third attorney stand as the judge takes his seat. 

“So, we’ve got Eddie Munson, correct?” Judge Rogers looks down at a few pieces of paperwork set in front of him before looking over the top of his bifocals at Eddie. 

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And it looks like Brittany Munson is not here.” Judge Rogers looks up at the other lawyer for confirmation.

“Um, no Your Honor, I—”

A large bang covers up his next words as the double doors are shoved open. This time when Eddie looks over his shoulder, it is Brittany hurrying into the room. Her usually impeccably styled hair is a little askew. It’s all pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, that she sometimes wears to work. Her outfit is also one of the many skirt and blazer sets that are part of her repertoire for her job at the bank. 

Eddie glances at the clock on the wall again. Maybe this was her lunch break and there was traffic. But as Brittany gets closer, Eddie notices her blouse. It’s a silky pale blue that she’s worn a hundred times, but that’s not what catches his eye. It’s the fact that the blouse is not buttoned up correctly. She either missed a hole or there’s a button not tucked into where it’s supposed to be. 

A low disbelieving chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s mouth at this all-too-common occurrence he became acquainted with during their marriage. The unkempt hair, the disheveled clothes, and the way her face is slightly flushed, and her breathing is a little faster than usual tells Eddie exactly why Brittany is late, and it has nothing to do with work. Unless it was one of her co-workers she was fucking. Hell, Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if she was fucking her lawyer. 

“Nice of you to join us, Mrs. Munson,” the judge grumbles as Brittany takes her spot next to her lawyer.

Ugh, did he have to call her Mrs. Munson? Eddie internally gripes.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Brittany says as she tries to smooth back some loose strands of hair. She offers no explanation or excuse for where she’s been, and Eddie thinks that’s for the better. 

“Alright.” Judge Rogers clears his throat before he smacks his gavel down. “Let’s begin.”

After school today it’s just you, Ryan, and Luke. Karen Wheeler came to pick up the Harrington kids and take them back to her place so your focus could be on the Munson boys. 

Neither brother has said anything about their parents being at court today by the time you get back to Eddie’s apartment, and if they’re not going to bring it up, neither are you. You prepare them a snack while they sit at the kitchen table, starting on their homework. 

It’s not long before the apple slices and peanut butter have disappeared, and the homework has been finished. Luke shoves his work folder back into his book bag and wanders off for a moment before returning with crayons and a small stack of paper. While he’s rummaging through the crayon box, Ryan reaches over and plucks the piece of paper on top of the pile. Instead of reaching over to use some of his little brother’s crayons, Ryan picks up the pencil he used for his homework and presses the tip of it onto the top of the sheet of paper.

“Whatcha doing, Ry?” you ask as you dry off their snack plate that you just washed. 

“Um…” Ryan chews on his lip for a moment before looking up at you. “I wanna write a letter. Actually, can you help me?”

“Of course.” You put the plate away and make your way over to the table. The chair next to the seven-year-old scrapes against the floor as you pull it out to sit. “Who is the letter for?”

The little boy bites at his lip again and it makes you frown. This isn’t a usual habit of his. He avoids your eyes as he looks down at the blank paper, nerves radiating off of his small frame. 

“The judge at court,” he finally says. 

“Oh.” You clear your throat after realizing your pitch was too high. “What do you want to say?”

Ryan sighs and taps the point of the pencil against the paper.

“I don’t like that I can’t go with Daddy and tell the judge how I feel. They’re talking about me and Luke, but Daddy said they might not ask us what we want. I don’t like that.”

The words crack your heart. He feels like he has no control over the situation. and the sad fact is that you can’t tell him that he’s wrong. The court might not ask Ryan and Luke who they want to live with. But Ryan’s determination to have his voice be heard is a testament to how Eddie’s raising him. 

“I’m proud of you,” you tell him, reaching up to move some of his hair off of his forehead. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“I also don’t wanna be there cause I’d be scared,” Ryan admits quietly. 

“That makes complete sense, sweetheart. I think most adults even get nervous in court. I know I would be. Daddy doesn’t like it either. But he would do it over and over again for you both. He’d do anything for you.”

“I know,” he says confidently. 

“Good.” 

Luke’s crayons scratch against his paper, and you look over at him. He’s hunched over the table with his small tongue poking out as the green crayon moves back and forth against the page. He doesn’t seem stressed like his older brother is. You hope that’s really the case though, and he’s not hiding or internalizing his feelings. 

“So,” you say with a sigh, turning to Ryan again, “how do you want to start the letter?”

So far, the hearing isn’t as bad as Eddie thought. For some reason he thought he’d be tripping over his words, not sure how to answer the questions asked of him. But even though it is nerve wracking, it’s pretty easy; all Eddie has to do is tell the truth.

“What is the living situation of the children?” the judge asks.

“They live with me in the house,” Brittany is quick to answer. “Eddie sees them after school sometimes, or on the weekend.”

“I just moved to a new apartment,” Eddie says once Brittany has finished. “And the boys are almost done setting up their rooms the way they like. So, I’ll start having them overnights as well.”

“No, I don’t want that.”

Brittany’s lawyer leans in to whisper something in her ear after the outburst. 

Judge Rogers scribbles something down before moving on to the next question. 

“How are each of you involved in their daily life?”

“I’m very involved,” Eddie makes sure to answer first. “I’m the one who makes them breakfast, moves them along to get ready for school, and gets them out on the bus. I know their favorite toys, games, shows, movies. You name it, I know it. They feel comfortable telling me anything because they know I’m always there for them.”

“He’s also very involved with the babysitter,” Brittany adds.

Eddie’s vision goes red. His hands tighten into fists beneath the table, and he does his best to breathe through his anger. 

Brittany doesn't attempt to add anything further, which Eddie realizes is because there’s nothing much she can contribute. She doesn’t know anything about her own sons and has virtually no part in their everyday routines. 

When the judge realizes there’s nothing else coming from Brittany, he moves on.

“That brings me to my next question, then,” he says. “What third parties are involved in their care?”

“My uncle, who is grandpa to the kids, will watch them sometimes,” Eddie says. “They like to go over and spend the night at his place a lot during the summer because they like to make s’mores over the fire pit. And there’s my best friends, Steve and Nancy, whose kids are best friends with my boys. So, they spend a lot of time there. And my, um, their babysitter. She picks them up from school every day and watches them until either I or Brittany come home from work.”

A witch’s cackle comes from the other side of the courtroom. Fitting, for who it’s coming from. 

“That ‘babysitter’ is the whole reason why we’re in this mess! She’s a little homewrecker who seduced my husband and now they’re shacking up together with my kids there.”

If Eddie thought he was mad before, now he’s in danger of turning into the Hulk. Brittany dares to call you a homewrecker when she’s the one who has been cheating for most of their marriage? When she’s the one who has skipped out on countless family events just to go fuck some other guy? The fact that she even had the audacity to entertain the thought that she might have the higher ground? Eddie’s surprised flames aren’t shooting out of his ears. 

“That isn’t true, Your Honor.” Eddie is doing his best to sound calm, but there’s a noticeable edge to his voice. “I mean, yes, I am involved with the babysitter, but the rest of what she said is a lie.”

Judge Rogers takes his bifocals off and sets them down on the desk in front of him. “Care to elaborate?”

“First of all, this divorce was a long time coming. I don’t mean to get crude, Your Honor, but Brittany has stepped out with countless men while we were married. It was lie after lie, but I knew the truth. And I was relieved when it was very obvious my sons are mine. That is what led us here today.”

“So, did you leave your wife for this babysitter? And are you living together?” Judge Rogers puts his glasses back on and makes another note. 

“No, Your Honor,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “To be perfectly honest, I was at a place of not caring that I was constantly being lied to and cheated on anymore. I became numb and just went through the motions of my life. I didn’t want to break up my boys’ family, so I did nothing. But when I met her—the babysitter, she helped me realize that I deserve better. In my opinion, I was a great husband. I did my best and stuck it out. But it became clear that the atmosphere in the house was too hostile for the boys. I’d rather them have two peaceful homes than one painful one.” Eddie pauses and licks over his lips before continuing. “I briefly stayed with the babysitter while I went through the process of getting my apartment, but the boys never stayed the night there. And the babysitter continues to live in her apartment and I in mine.”

“How do the boys feel about this babysitter?” Judge Rogers asks as he keeps writing. Eddie can’t help but wonder what he’s taking down.

“They love her. In fact, they tried to set her and I up.”

Brittany scoffs but says nothing. Eddie refuses to look in her direction and keeps his focus on the judge. 

Talking about you was relieving. Honestly, a part of Eddie had been afraid that he wouldn’t come off looking good if you got brought up. But he now sees how ridiculous that is, because in the reality of everything, Brittany has no leg to stand on whatsoever when it comes to you. 

“This is a vacation with me and my best buddy.”

“Donald Duck?”

“No, silly, with you!”

A knock on the apartment door distracts you from A Goofy Movie, and you push yourself up off the couch, leaving a gap between the boys as you head to open it. 

Wayne stands on the other side, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his rugged jeans. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets.

“Hey, Wayne. Come on in.” You move to the side so the older man can step inside. 

“How they doing?” Wayne asks quietly, nodding his head towards the boys on the couch.

“I think they’re doing alright,” you tell him as you close the door, making sure to keep your voice low as well. “Ryan wanted to write a letter to the judge before. So, we did that, and I think it let him get some of his emotions out. Luke seems like his usual self. I’m just worried he’s bottling it all up.”

Wayne nods his head and lets out a small sigh.

“And how are you doing?” he asks. 

The question catches you off guard. Honestly, you haven’t been thinking about how you’re feeling today. Your focus has been on Eddie and the boys and trying to make things as painless as possible for them. 

“I’m…okay,” you say. “More worried about Eddie and the boys. It affects them more so than me.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you, hon,” Wayne replies quickly. “You’re part of this family.”

His words cause you to choke on your emotions. He considers you family. He sees that you’re in this for the long haul and that you really do love and care for all of them. 

You force yourself to swallow and take a deep breath. It’s like Wayne’s words also gave you permission to feel your feelings about this whole ordeal. The front you had been putting up for Eddie and the boys was up so consistently that a part of you forgot that you had your own fears and worries deep down. Now, with the turn of a key, they all flood your head, dizzying you as you hold onto the back of a kitchen chair for balance.

“How can I support him?” you ask, voice soft and wobbly. “What if I somehow make him feel worse?”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you. Luke lets out a chuckle over where he’s watching the movie on the couch still, so Wayne gestures for you to follow him into the kitchen. 

“Darlin’, I don’t think you could do anything but make Ed feel better. You seen the way he lights up when you walk in a room? All you gotta do is be there for him. Ask him how he is. Listen to him. Nothing special, just what you’ve been doing for him all along.” 

“Well, that’s easy,” you say.

Wayne smiles and you tilt your head in question.

“It might seem a simple thing to you…but Ed ain’t had that kind of support in a relationship before. He ain’t been able to open up and talk freely. I remember he learned real quick to keep how he was feeling to himself when he started dating her. It broke me, but what could I do? He was dumb and in love. If I said anything ‘bout it, I would’ve lost my relationship with him and I wasn’t about to do that. But, hell, I saw him be open and comfortable with you practically from day one. You’ve always been willing to lend an ear and somethin’ inside of him picked up on that right away. Hon, by just being his friend you gave him more than his own wife did. It’s just who you are. And it’s part of why everyone in this home loves you so much.”

It’s impossible to see Wayne clearly through the tears that have pooled in your eyes. You refuse to let them fall, not wanting the boys to see even a hint of a tear track on your face. But your heart is so full it feels like it could burst. Somehow Wayne always knows the right thing to say. You’ve been grateful from the start that the man took Eddie in after everything went to hell with his parents, but it’s so obvious that was the best thing for Eddie for a myriad of reasons. No one could have raised him better or taken care of him more. 

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he says with a shake of his head. “I should be thanking you. For loving my boy the way he’s always deserved. All my boys.” He looks over to the couch where Ryan is sound asleep, and Luke looks to be in a losing battle with the sandman himself. 

“That’s something you never have to thank me for,” you tell him. “It’s the greatest pleasure of my life.”

As many times as Eddie got in trouble as a kid, he’s never been interrogated by the police before. Never had one of those moments you see on television where someone sits in an uncomfortable metal chair as a light shines in their face bright enough to burn their retinas. But sitting here, answering question after question for the judge, starts to feel like an interrogation after a while. Eddie could talk about his boys all day and night, but this was mostly talking about himself when it comes to the boys. He’s starting to feel over it all. But he keeps pressing through, always thinking of those two sweet faces at home anytime he wants to throw in the towel. 

“What are each parent’s plans for housing and stability loving forward?” Judge Rogers asks.

“I’m in the house,” Brittany reiterates, a smug tinge to her words. “With the yard and the pool.”

“Will you be able to remain there with solely your income?” The judge follows up.

Brittany’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. It tickles Eddie, but he manages to keep the smile off his face as he looks across the room at his ex. 

“I, u-um…” Brittany stutters. 

She’s got nothing, Eddie realizes. He knows her finances very well, having shared bills with her for the last decade. The mortgage took up most of their combined incomes every month, so Eddie knows there’s no way she can afford to stay there without him. 

“I’ll be able to remain there for a time,” Brittany finally says. “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

Eddie has to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand, leaving little crescent moon shapes behind, so he doesn’t burst out laughing. Brittany’s not going to get a second job. She hates the first one enough as it is. All Eddie can think of “making it work” meaning is finding a sugar daddy, winning the lottery, robbing the bank she works at, or maybe borrowing money from her parents. Or a worst case scenario would be Brittany’s sister Sandy and her bratty kids moving in with her. 

“Mr. Munson?”

“As I’ve said, I have a new apartment. It’s now all fully furnished, all unpacked, and the boys have their rooms.” Eddie hates how repetitive this all is. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s mentioned his apartment, and he’s sure the judge knows it by now as well, but Eddie understands there are procedures that need to be followed. No matter how annoying they are. 

“Are there any concerns about the safety or well-being of the children in either home?” Judge Rogers asks, looking back and forth from Eddie to Brittany over the rim of his glasses. 

“I have reason to believe the boys are better off with me, due to Eddie’s drinking.”

This time Eddie almost succumbs to his rage. Brittany lying and the judge believing her was one of his worst fears, and here she is trying to do just that. Eddie can’t remember the last time he had a hard drink, only a beer or two after work. And actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he isn’t sure when he last had a beer. After moving into his apartment, he thinks. A bunch of them drank beer with the pizzas they had once the work was done. But a moment of clarity leads Eddie to a realization. He used to come home every night and have a beer. Now, it occurs to him that he hasn’t had a beer after work in a number of weeks. Because he doesn’t need one to deal with Brittany. He doesn’t need to attempt to numb himself to the horrible woman he was living with. Now he comes home to you. He can hug you, kiss you, talk with you. There’s something to be excited for when he comes home, now. You and his boys. 

“Drinking?” Judge Rogers asks her.

“Yes, Your Honor. Eddie drinks every night.”

“Is this true, Mr. Munson?”

“No,” Eddie responds confidently. “I used to have a beer or two when I’d come home from work, but that hasn’t happened in at least a month. And it was never more than one or two beers. I have never been drunk in front of my boys, but Brittany is not able to say the same.”

“Is this true, Mrs. Munson?”

“No,” she lies reflexively. The boys may have been too young to realize that’s what was going on with their mom, but it was most certainly the case. 

Eddie catches a quiet sigh from the judge as he jots down another note. It causes some of his nerves to flutter back in.

“Any other concerns about safety or well-being?”

“Perhaps you should mention how your upbringing has caused you to prioritize the safety of your boys,” Carl says softly to Eddie. 

He nods and clears his throat before speaking.

“Your Honor, I lived in an unsafe environment with my parents when I was young. Thankfully, I was placed with my uncle instead, which is the best possible place I could have been. I’ve lived and seen the difference between a home that has the well-being of children prioritized and one that doesn’t. It taught me how to make sure that my boys are always safe. Not just child-proofing the space or taking them to the doctor, but also by making sure they know how loved they are and that they can make mistakes and everything will be okay. That my love is unconditional, and I’ll always be on their side.”

“Would you say Mrs. Munson has those same priorities?” Judge Rogers asks.

“No.” Eddie didn’t even need to consider the question. He has so many examples on the tip of his tongue that if he told them all, they’d be there for days. “There have been instances of Brittany hiding the fact that our son Luke was sick from me, then taking him out of state just so her plans weren’t canceled. Both boys have also made remarks to me about knowing their mother does not care about them.”

“The boys have a preference?” Judge Rogers asks.

“Yes. They’ve both informed me that they’d prefer to be with me.”

“I don’t believe that,” Brittany immediately snaps back. 

“Feel free to ask them,” Eddie responds without looking in her direction. 

Carl nods at Eddie, letting him know he’s doing a good job. It comforts Eddie, but more than anything, he wishes for this to be over already. 

Thankfully, it’s only a short time later that the judge wraps things up.

“Alright, let’s get to the temporary custody arrangement,” he says. “What is the arrangement between the two of you now?”

“The babysitter,” Brittany begins, the acidity emphasized on your title, “brings them either to my house or the apartment, depending on our schedules.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way from now on, then,” Judge Rogers declares. “It’ll be fifty-fifty custody right now. Between the two of you, look at your schedules and decide how you’ll split the time. Weekends are also fifty-fifty, which can either be one parent with them on Saturday and one on Sunday, or both days with a single parent every other weekend.”

The arrangement doesn’t thrill Eddie, but he’s mostly relieved that Brittany didn’t get primary physical custody. He can live with this back and forth right now if he has to. 

Court is dismissed shortly after, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief as he steps outside. The stuffiness of the courthouse disappears, and Eddie feels he can take a deep breath for the first time since entering earlier this afternoon. 

“Okay, let’s figure this out.”

Eddie looks behind him to see Brittany approaching him, her lawyer not exiting the building with her.

“Okay.” The familiar feeling of wanting to rip Brittany’s head off is right below the surface, but Eddie knows he has to keep things civil. 

“Why don’t you come back to the house, and we’ll talk about it? Since the boys are at the apartment.”

There’s a glimmer in her eye that instantly makes Eddie uncomfortable. Going back to the house with her? With them being the only two there? His stomach roils at the thought. Eddie has absolutely no trust in this woman whatsoever, and he wouldn’t put it past her to try something when they’re alone. Whether she tries to seduce him or uses the period of time to later claim that he harmed her in some way, Eddie isn’t risking it. He also wants to spend the least amount of time possible with her.

“Why don’t we go to a diner or something?” Eddie offers instead.

Brittany stares at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. It’s clear she’s irritated, but is she really dumb enough to think Eddie would fall for whatever is going on in that twisted mind of hers?

“Whatever,” Brittany scoffs. “I’ll do Monday to Wednesday morning, and you can do Wednesday night to Friday.”

The fact that she already had a plan in her back pocket only enforces Eddie’s idea that she wanted him to come back with her for another reason. 

“Weekends we’ll do by ear? Depending on if you work Saturdays or not,” Eddie says.

“Fine. Have your tramp drop them off at the house tomorrow.”

“Brittany…” Eddie seethes.

“Bye.” She gives him a small wave over her shoulder, throwing him an over-the-top smile before heading towards her car. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbles to himself as he heads towards his car in the opposite direction. “How did I ever love that bitch?”

As much as Eddie is yearning to see you and the boys, he knows he needs some time to cool off before going home. He takes a detour to visit the man who has the best track record of talking him down off the ledge.

“None of that surprises me, sadly,” Wayne says once Eddie finishes filling him in on the hearing. 

Eddie rolls out his neck, trying to dispel some of the tension as he stretches out on the couch next to his uncle.

“What do I do?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. “How am I supposed to refute every goddamn lie she tells?”

“You just tell the truth,” Wayne says simply. “You got nothing to hide. Everyone knows you’re better for the boys, all you gotta do is let the judge see it, too.”

“How the hell did you go through this for me?” Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah, well, at least Al had the decency not to fight me tooth and nail.”

Eddie chuckles. “At eleven, I never thought I’d be happy about that. But thank God.”

“I know what ya need.” Wayne smacks Eddie’s thigh before pushing himself up and walking into the small kitchen.

“Oh, Wayne, no beer,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna touch the shit at all, now.”

“I’m not getting you beer, ya dingbat,” Wayne teases, making Eddie smile. 

The older man grabs two mugs off the wall–an old army one and Eddie’s favorite Garfield one. Wayne pulls a glass bottle of YooHoo out of the fridge and pops open the lid. Eddie laughs as he gets up and goes to join his uncle near the refrigerator. 

“Your favorite as a kid,” Wayne says as he pours half the bottle into each mug.

“Luke’s favorite now,” Eddie adds.

“What, you think I have this here for me?” Wayne asks as he tosses the empty bottle into the trash. 

“Eh, you’re a kid at heart,” Eddie says, picking up the orange cat mug. 

“Here’s to the best outcome we could hope for,” Wayne says as he raises his cup. 

“Brittany getting eaten by the Loch Ness Monster?” 

Wayne snorts a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Sounds good to me. Hopefully the judge can sentence her to that.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Eddie clinks his mug against his uncle’s and they both down the chocolate milk. 

The pots and pans clatter together as you pull out the skillet to get started on dinner. Just as your hand reaches for the dial to turn on the burner, the front door opens. You immediately set the pan down and march right over to Eddie. Without saying a word, you wrap your arms around his middle and pull him into a hug.

A small smile grows on his lips as he returns your embrace. He hums softly as he closes his eyes and rests his head against yours.

“How’d you know I needed this?” he asks quietly.

“Lucky guess,” you mumble against his shoulder. 

He pulls back, but you don’t let go of him. Your hands rest on his waist, below the blazer, as he drops his wallet and keys on the counter. His back arches and stretches as he shrugs out of the blazer and tosses it onto a barstool. 

“What did you and the munchkins get up to today?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you again.

“Y’know,” you say with a shrug. “I let them bungee jump, then skydive, and then they ate their weight in Pixy Stix.”

“I figured.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Daddy!” Ryan runs in the room and takes advantage of the small space between you and his father to wriggle in. But when you try to step away to let the little boy have his father all to himself, Ryan catches your hand and keeps you there with the two of them. “What happened today?”

“Just answered a bunch of questions,” Eddie tells him, reaching up to ruffle his sandy hair. 

“Did Mom go?”

“She did.” Eddie nods. “We talked with the judge and with each other. Everyone just wants to make sure you and Luke are happy.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at you, then back to his father.

“Can I show you my letter?”

“Letter?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing.

“Ry wanted to write a letter to the judge,” you explain, resting your hands on the seven-year-old’s shoulders.

“I’d love to read it,” Eddie tells him.

The little boy slips out from between the two of you and goes to pick up the piece of paper on the kitchen table. He comes back and silently hands it to Eddie.

Dear Judge,

My name is Ryan Wayne Munson, and I am Eddie’s oldest son. I am seven years old and my brother Luke is five. I know we are young and sometimes grown-ups don’t listen to kids, but I wanted to share how I feel anyway. My daddy is the best man in the world, and he loves me and Luke more than anyone else in the world. We are always happier when we are with him than with our mom. Our mom has missed lots of things in mine and Luke’s lives. I had a Christmas concert last year and she didn’t show up at all, even though I had a solo and was very excited. But Daddy made sure I got there on time and told me how good I was and how proud he is of me. He always makes sure to tell me that. And he tells Luke, too. 

I don’t want to live at the house with my mom. I want to live at the house with my daddy, but I know he does not live there anymore. Even though I love my first room and my house, I would rather live with Daddy anywhere. I have a cool new room at his apartment and Daddy worked hard to help make it special for me. 

I am writing this letter while you are having your first meeting with my mom and dad. I had some help with spelling and punctuation, but the words are all mine. I would be scared to come to court and talk, but if it meant that I would get to live with my daddy, I would do it. I know Luke would too. I hope this letter helps you make your decision.

Love,

Ryan

Eddie can’t help but smile through his tears at the endearing “love” signoff. That’s Ryan in a nutshell; always spreading love. 

The words have restored Eddie’s exhaustion and fill his drained soul. 

Small arms wrap around Eddie and large brown eyes look up at him.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Ryan asks.

“Because that was a really sweet letter, Ry.”

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond as Luke rushes into the room and runs head-first into his dad.

“Daddy! Can we get ice cream for dinner?”

“After dinner?” Eddie suggests, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” Luke pouts, “because then I’ll be too full.”

Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as he lets out a laugh. 

“You earned yourself an extra piece of broccoli with dinner tonight, kid,” he tells his son.

Luke lets out a growl and sticks his tongue out at Eddie. Eddie sticks his tongue right back out at the five-year-old, who giggles in response.

“Oof,” Eddie grunts as he scoops Luke up and throws him over his shoulder. “What do you say we order pizza? Hmm? Have a movie night?”

“Yes!” Luke cheers.

“Can we watch Hook?” Ryan asks. 

“Sounds great,” Eddie says, rubbing his hand over Ryan’s hair. 

You watch as the three of them head towards the couch. It’s impossible not to smile as Eddie plops Luke down on the cushions and flops down next to him. The youngest Munson laughs as Eddie rolls on top of him and laughs even harder when Ryan gets on top of the pile of boys. 

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you reach for the telephone. You sniff and blink them away as you scan the fridge for the magnet with the pizzeria’s phone number on it. Hearing the three of them laugh as they roughhouse is a balm to your heart after the stress of the day. Unfortunately, this is just the beginning of the journey to keep these boys where they belong, but as long as there is laughter and love at the end of days like today, you think it won’t be so bad after all. 

[astralnymphh]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ♡

summary: ellie simply cannot dance the odette variation perfectly without you spotting her. she calls you in, and swans begin to sing.

content: ballerina!ellie, smut, mdni, dom!reader, white swan and black swan dynamic, fingering(e!rec), slight choking, slight degradation, semi-public sex, presence of risk, drabble length, had to get something of this au out before i went psycho. think of this as series teaser, almost. barely, somewhat proofread. wc: 1.7k

Ellie works against her body, and time works against her.

“Dammit—I can't get it right.”

It is February: the unfurling of the year, and she is Odette this season. The white swan had incarnated, plucking only the most graceful, most sedulous ballerina from the flock. She begins to believe herself after all the blood, sweat, and tears produced in anticipation, and training. Nothing is graceful about this loathing season, though, and save for the culmination of when she was cast her sorrowful-swan, ivory feathers, this is a tribulation that eats her down to the sore ligaments of herself. Perfection is eroding.

She tries and she fumbles. “Fuck!”

Usually, this is no issue. Ellie is inherently so given to pirouettes; the group instructor is unapologetic about that praise. But their momentum overwhelms their beauty—her instructor also claims. She must find a balance, within, and without thinking too hard.

So she ends up calling you in to think for her.

The black swan.

Tutoring, of a sort. “You have the wings of a vulture,” you broach, pacing forth and from the space behind. You only brace the front when you spot an incorrection. “Loosen up.”

She is nervous to have her heartbeat in your ears. You have this touch nobody else can give, and yet it is for a reason she wishes not; correction, not love. However, she just might love it regardless. Touchings of the arms that mean nothing to you, and many things to her. You tap her shoulder, and the muscles noticeably stiffen. With a gulp, the chafing organ inside her is a solitary song she hopes you cannot sense the thrumming of.

Tired hands fall to her thighs in a slap. You watch her lips form a question in the mirror. “Can't you just show me?” She is adamant with it. Adamant with everything, if you recall each sentence you overheard from her private sessions. Somethings of malediction, most a pained curse.

Those bruises and bumps reflect that.

“Your grace should come from within, Swan Queen.” Although an aphorism most would groan at and nullify, it is almost vital to every professional dancer. Even you nourish yourself with the saying, and you are at the top. “Just as Pavlovich would say, right?” Ellie has technique. In fact, she has a grasp on it so violent—so obsessive, not a single other picture-perfect girl in that room on the day of Swan Lake casting could bear it.

Except you.

She puffs her cheeks into apples, “Fuck,” and mumbles under her breath. This day would leave a sprain.

Nuturing her inelegance. You think of it like this, and you treat it as such. When your palms introduce two gentle pressures upon her ribcage from behind, she fears you can hear it. Her heart; its rage. She overthinks the gesture and places her hands over yours on accident.

You hear air snag in her throat. Feel her fill.

“Feel my hands?” You motion with your thumbs, rubbing them back and forth under hers.

Ellie drops her head, and a strand of auburn slips. “Yeah.” Her voice is a feather. It writhes into the abditory of her chest.

She hates catching your eyes in the mirror. Especially right now.

Because she so graciously has her hands on yours, you turn your palms and basket the tense, fidgeting things in them. Raising them heavenward as a halo. “You have to let go up here. Don't overthink it.” Your fingers downpour all around her, until they return to her palpating ribcage. “Focus on your core.”

Fuck, what has she done? She invited you in here with the strict notion that you could implement her perfection. Nothing more, nothing less. Pavlovich would replace you as her tutor if the sun shone with the littlest deviation; you don't have to be here. But you are here, and she is borderline bleeding from her precious lips trying to distract herself from the warmth crawling out below. The visceral image of her leotard stained with a wet patch.

She feels like a loser.

She does anything but let go. “Like this?” It is so achingly obvious, the sleek of her juices making it uncomfortable to lift her leg.

“No,” you huff in a heavy increment, drawing away. Ellie's impliable arms were all over the place—and not in the graceful, poised manner of a swan. The poise she despairingly needs. “You can't be this nervous on stage. Someone psych you out or something?”

She descends from pointe. This girl is a rose-red silhouette of confusion, and crackling. “Um, not really.” But she is fucking easy to read.

All she needed was your hands again.

Handling her waist, her hips. “Did you lock the door?” Eating her mouth which gushes with the same, quiet concerns. You close it with yours.

“Mhm.” Ellie is feeding on your hums: fitting her lips in the cleft of yours, opening and closing, nodding and accepting, eager to pick from your fruit again. Docile creature in caging limbs. She is sat softly in your lap, doing all this like she cannot get enough of you, regardless if you are endless.

Her skin is peeking quietly from her neckline. Shining, shifting over her collarbones.

Post-practice glow.

She tries to relieve the throes of wanting immediately. This is not the same Ellie you tutored minutes ago; someone else crawled inside of her, made a corruptive influence. “Fuckin' soaked down there,” she hints with pacing breath, flexing her pelvis up. “Gonna buy me new ones?” She mentions about her tights. Those tights that always make her toned legs look woodland-born; spry as deer, long boughs laden with white bloomage.

You chuckle. “Oh, cause it's my fault?” But your hands push for that hot gap beneath, peel her leotard aside, and she goes white-eyed. Nudging to find the same kisses.

Opening her mouth opens her heart to you.

Then, her legs.

Full-walled mirrors reflect before her. Ellie goes insane watching the muscles of your fingers work her in numbing circles over the wet patch of her tights, and sometimes, insane from the stare you give while doing it. The friction is like molasses, but it is all she needs. God, she is pulsing on you. Whining on you. Does she come to rehearsals horny?

It certainly coheres.

Warming up next to each other on the barre, beholding one another during auditions, her cascading stares when you stretch, creeping softly up your legs. Wearing sheer skirts so wispy, so mini: you get it. Those sculpting shorts she wears—you're not even going to lie—prove the pleasure is visual. It creates a vertigo of pounding, indecent thoughts.

You folded them so delicately down her lovely hips. Now they lay stranded somewhere in the room, but fuck—does your skin raise thinking about her ass flexing in them before. Picture-perfect, palmful of an ass.

Has she touched herself to you?

She still avoids your eyes when you pick up your speed. “Fuckin' slut, aren't you?” Watching what was being done to her was all the more invigorating, hoping she would ruin her panties enough and swallow up your motions. Take you in closer.

She tells you she does like it. Well, whimpers, at least, and humps your river-paced fingers.

Then, she plucks at the band of her tights with her thumb, stretching it over the knuckle. You see where your finger pins it down.

Shadows brush against the frosted door. Soothing yourselves too comfortably into primal abandon and taking every tight piece of clothing off would maturate a scandal. Risks are high; you lead her wrist back.

Dopey giggles form her smile. “Why not?”

You affirm. “You know why.”

But no secretion of articulation was coming from her lips, only confirming sounds and thigh contractions when you grope and grab her thumping crotch. It was as though she was pent-up. Panting often out of her mouth, and glancing into the hoods of her eyes with a short leaning motion—you think she is. Pent-up, religiously for you. Little ligaments in her shiver with every little tug, barely moving anything under the layers, but she loves it.

She spent deadlight mornings dreaming that her bed beheld hers and your legs interlocked, cunts rubbing each other into humiliating moans and reeking of sex days afterward in the studio. It aches that she cannot see her bare pussy, and you, inside her. She thinks she might be fucking glistening under there. How exciting: what would it feel like if you ripped the fabric and stuffed her, displayed and degraded her? Your glare already does, Odile.

She needs to take you home. She needs the veiling between you and her so eroded, it rewrites the all-encompassing, eternal-age ballet right there on the grand stage. Makes the audience mull in their sleep. “Put your hands around my neck,” she beckons, inviting more hands on her.

“Yeah?”

She gulps. “Uh-huh.”

They fill the pale emptiness. After that, she finds herself trying to fuck herself more desperately on your fingers: she rides the length of them, using what is softened of her panties to slide up her folds. The pressure indescribable. She almost forgets that you are her competition; rivals shouldn't make her come this hard.

But, it's you. You lull the filthiness out of her.

When your fingers dig in the right spot, she pierces through her lower lip. “Yes, baby—fuck!” She jolts with a whimper. The sides of your fingers are scratched by the synthetic material of her thighs, her legs impulsing, eyes pinching, and her neck stringing up in your grasp. It is a chasm full of splutters. “That's it—right there, right there. Fuck, don't stop, please don't fuckin' stop.”

You palm her through it, fingers pouring out through the heart of her thighs in the mirror. And something else. Something that sticks her to her shame: orgasm-sopping panties she may replace, and replace twice. There is subtle moisture on your fingertips.

No way she goes home and sleeps soundlessly without flicking her pussy for you. In devotion of what you could not. She feens to be properly played with.

Ellie lies breathless in your lap, her skin sweating into yours. The scene is a silent basking until she breaks it:

“Should we continue this tomorrow?”

[yuri-is-online]

Can I request a part 2 for when the guys leave some of their stuff in the guest room? Can it be with Azul, Jamil, and jade please? Thank you!

While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I was a bit surprised to get this request! In a nice way~ No warnings for this one, just pure fluff. The first one can be found here and more fic can be found on the Masterlist.

Antique Coin

Azul Ashengrotto is a well put together young man. His suits are pressed, his shoes are neatly polished, his rooms are always orderly and without dust.

Which is why he notes immediately when something is even mildly out of place, and completely falls apart once he's in the privacy of his own room. He knew he never should have paid attention to that stupid article Floyd had shared in their group chat, coins being symbols of good luck wouldn't make him relatable to anybody and now he's missing one of his best coins! How stupid could he have been to think that-

"Hello, this is Azul speaking." He snatches up his phone without even checking the caller ID and immediately begins sweating when he hears your familiar breathing (he swears he's not a creep, really! He's just noticed that whenever you speak on the phone, not that you do that often really just when he can work up the nerve and hey this is technically the first time you've called him! Progress he's making progre-)

"Hey there, you got a moment?" Azul can feel the heavy sweat drop on his forehead. He's done enough research to know conversation starters like this are never good.

"I'm a bit busy right now." He tries to lean casually against his desk and glares at the book that has the audacity to fall off his desk and startle you. "Is this terribly important or can it wait?"

You, laugh? Is it nervous, or is it affectionate? Does even know what that sort of laughter would sound, is it bad that he finds your voice terribly beautiful even if it's mocking, even if it's- "Um sorry, but are you missing a coin?"

"A... coin?"

"Yes! I remember you saying you collect them and this one I found in my guest room smelled a bit like the ocean so. Yeah. I thought it might be yours." He smiles.

"My dear, you know I'm just going to say 'yes' and take it from you." You laugh again, how silly that last one was nerves. This one is affection, his hearts are fit to burst with it so it must be. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. If that’s acceptable?"

"Of course! I'll be here." Perhaps that article wasn't completely wrong after all.

Red Feather Accessory

There are few things Jamil hates more than being sick. Assassins don't have sick days, or maybe they do. Maybe they have better benefits than he does. Maybe he'd make a really good assassin in some alternate universie like that one video game series from your world you told him about once, the one with the emblems and gangrene? He doesn't remember much of the conversation Kalim tricked him into having by saying he wanted to hang out in your guest room yesterday.

"But you were so happy to see them!"

Because of course, that had been Kalim's justification. And sure, he probably had been really happy to see you. He'd been running quite the fever and he can't imagine you made that temperature any better.

"Good morning, prefect." He manages it smoothly, you look properly embarrassed to see him this early, your eyes flicker to his hair and linger just a moment longer than normal. "Sleep well?"

"Mostly." You try to focus on his face, but his hair is clearly distracting. Your eyes keep darting back to it, Jamil expected to be embarrassed, but this is oddly empowering. "Is there a reason you're here so early?"

"I think you know why I'm here." You don't, he can tell that much from how you swallow. "Can I come in?"

"Sure?" You move just the bit and Jamil let's himself inside, the doors in Ramshackle always look so damn similar. Just how do you find your way around in here? "Um, Jamil?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why you're here?" You look lovely

"Of course." He laughs. "I left a hair accessory here yesterday when Kalim decided to visit." How odd, normally you'd flinch if he worded it like that. Instead you just look sort of blurry.

"I see." You're close now, but he can't see you through this weird fog that's filling your hallways. You push back his headband and press the back of your plam to his forehead. "Oof. Well that's not good." Your arm encircles his shoulders and boosts him back up to his feet. He supposes he can afford to lean towards you, there's enough plausible deniabilty in what he's said already to keep his feelings to himself.

"C'mon." You do your best to boost him and march back towards the door. Jamil is smiling similar to how he does when he gets one over on Azul, but you doubt he's planned this. He's so feverish that his skin has gotten clammy. "I already took your hair pin back to Scarabia, ok? Let's get you back to bed."

"That's so kind of you." His hoarse voice tries to purr. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for breakfast?" Thank the seven Grim isn't awake yet. You'd never hear the end of this from either of them.

Encyclopedia of Tea

Books are expensive, you can count on one hand the ones you own unrelated to your school work scattered around your dorm. They are precious to you, signs of your life in a world you don't belong in. A way to tell something about you if someone decided to look at the little shelf you had finally put up in your guest room.

And someone had, because you know damn well this book isn't yours, the process of returning it is guaranteed to be a headache but the longer you hesitate the more ammunition the book's rightful owner will have to accuse you of stealing it. Assuming that's what Jade's goal was anyway, it seemed like something he would find funny to do. You could picture him slipping the book onto your shelf with that calm look on his face.

Jade's face isn't what you would call wildly expressive. He smiles pleasantly most of the time, seldom do you see him frown. Even now when his forehead is knit in concern there's nothing really resembling the scowl you saw during Azul’s overblot.

"Hello Jade, forgotten something?" You hold the book up and shake it slightly. His eyes widen, and his smile drops into something more nuteral. This expression is adorable, it stays as Jade speaks, allowing you to admire it longer

"Oh?" He blinks, Jade wakes easily enough so your own expression flickers to concern at how slow he seems for just long enough to give him back his confidence. "It seems the simplest solution was correct. Thank you, prefect." He reaches for the book, hands lingering near yours as his eyes focus on the title of the book. He is painfully slow in taking it back.

"Do you really take this everywhere with you?" Your hand involuntarily flexes as you retreat back into your personal space. Sometimes you wish you could read minds, it would make this heavy feeling in your heart more explainable. Let you notice the way Jade's teeth display for you and not hide inside your own insecurities, how he wishes you would keep your eyes on him.

"Of course, it helps to have some light reading on hand when things get slow." He wishes you had kept the book long enough for it to retain your scent or some of your warmth. Perhaps now that he's set this precedent, he can fake it. Leave his jacket or his scarf? But no, that wouldn't be believable. He's Jade Leech, the Vice Warden of Octavinelle. You would never believe the real reason the book ended up where it did. His dreams are his to dwell in alone.

"Perhaps as thanks I could prepare one of my favorites for you? To clear the debt so to speak." For now.

[wolverigrl]

Moments of Desire

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I may have rushed this one a bit, because I'm reeeally tired right now. I thought I'd have more time today, but unfortunately not. I hope you still like this one!

Warnings: smut, oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv (wrap it up!), light spanking, pet names (baby etc.)

Enjoy!

Not proofread!

---------------------------------------------------

The late afternoon sunlight filters in through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow around the room. Hugh is sprawled comfortably in his favorite armchair, legs spread slightly, his posture relaxed but commanding. He's watching me with that familiar, playful glint in his eyes that always makes my stomach flip.

I'm sitting across from him on the sofa, my legs tucked under me, a pillow hugged to my chest.

"So, when do you think we should start telling people?"

I ask, my voice bubbling with excitement. Even saying the words feels surreal. I can't believe it.

I'm pregnant - we are pregnant.

Hugh smiles, that irresistible, easy grin spreading across his face. He looks so at peace, so happy, and it makes my heart swell.

"I've been thinking about that." he says, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

"We can't just blurt it out over dinner, you know? This is big! Huge! It's our baby, and I want everyone to remember how we told them."

I nod, biting my lip as I imagine it.

"You're right. It has to be special. But how?" I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand, thinking.

"We could throw a little get-together, invite our close friends and family and do big reveal. Maybe a cake or something?"

Hugh chuckles, shaking his head, his

voice warm with amusement. "A cake? I don't know if that's us." He shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers lightly on the armrest. "Feels too... formal. I want something more...personal. Something just for us and the people we love."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Okay, Mr. Creative, what's your big idea?"

He grins wider, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this. "What if

we visit everyone in person? One by one. That way, it's more intimate. No big groups, just face-to-face moments with the people who matter most to us."

I tilt my head, thinking it over. "That could work... but what would we do? Just knock on the door and say 'Hey, guess what?'.. It deels a little..anticlimactic."

Hugh's eyes light up like he's thought of something brilliant. "No, no! We take a picture with them. Every single person, we gather them together for a photo, right? And just when everyone's ready to say 'cheese', we drop the bomb: 'y/n's pregnant!"

I burst out laughing, picturing the stunned faces of our friends and family when we spring the news on them like that.

"Oh my God, baby! That's perfect! Can you imagine the looks we'll get? And we'll have it all captured on camera!"

He chuckles, his deep, rich voice

making my heart skip a beat.

"Exactly! That way, it's not just an announcement - it's a moment. A real memory we can keep forever."

I lean back, grinning from ear to ear, already imagining the reactions.

"I love it! I really do!" My eyes drift over

to him, and something shifts in the

air between us. The playfulness

fades into something deeper, more intense. He's watching me closely, his gaze lingering a little too long on my lips, then my legs.

"You always come up with the best

ideas." he says softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down my spine. I feel a slow smile curve my lips, knowing exactly what that look means. "Oh yeah?" I tease, letting

my fingers absentmindedly trace the

seam of the pillow in my lap.

"Is that why you keep me around?"

He smirks, his eyes darkening a

shade as he leans forward slightly.

his posture shifting, more predatory

now. "Among other reasons."

His fingers start moving, tracing small,

lazy circles on the armrest of his chair. The movement is slow, deliberate, and for some reason incredibly sensual. His middle and ring finger glide over the fabric in a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. And as if on cue, he spreads his legs just a little more, his posture relaxing even further.

Casual, but undeniably suggestive.

My breath catches in my throat, my body responding to him almost instantly.

God, he knows exactly what he's doing. The way he looks at me, the way his fingers move in those subtle, teasing circles. It's like he's turning me on without ever touching me.

"You're really distracting me."

I murmur, my voice quieter now, more

breathless than I intended. Hugh's eyes flick up to meet mine, and there's something molten in hisgaze.

"Am I?" he asks, voice rough and full of heat. His lips curl into a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on me.

"I'm not even doing anything."

I swallow hard, feeling my pulse quicken.

"That's the problem." I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the way his fingers move.

They're still drawing those maddening circles, slow and steady.

Every time he completes one, a fresh wave of heat pools low in my belly.

He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze locking onto mine as he leans back again, making himself even more comfortable. "You're the one who's making it hard to

concentrate." he says, voice soft but dripping with desire.

I shift in my seat, feeling the tension

Between us coil tighter, the air in the room practically crackling with it.

"Is that right?"

I stand up slowly, my heart racing as I walk toward him, feeling the heat between us intensify. Hugh's eyes follow my every move, dark with need, as I approach. His legs spread just a little wider, and I can feel the tension in the air-thick with anticipation.

I move closer, standing between his

legs, feeling the magnetic pull that always seems to draw me to him.

My fingers trail lightly over his broad shoulders, tracing the firm muscles under my touch. I can feel his body tense as I lean down, pressing soft kisses to his neck, tasting his skin.

His scent, warm and familiar, fills my senses, making my pulse quicken.

A soft groan escapes his lips as I kiss along his neck, his breath becoming heavier. His hands move to my hips, pulling me closer to him, his grip firm and possessive.

I bite my lip as I kiss him again, lower this time, nipping at his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

Slowly, I drop to my knees between his legs, placing my hands on his thighs. Hugh's breath hitches, and I hear the sharp intake of air as I look up at him.

His eyes are locked on mine, filled with desire, his chest rising and falling a little faster now.

He leans back slightly, his hands

sliding into my hair, gently tugging

me toward him.

I press soft kisses along his inner

thigh, while opening his jeans with my hands.

His body tenses beneath me, his

hands tightening in my hair as he

groans softly, his hips shifting

impatiently. I smirk, enjoying the

way his body reacts to my teasing.

He lifts his hips slightly so that I can pull his jeans and boxers down to his ankles.

I slowly start stroking him and finally take him into my mouth moving slowly, savoring the feeling of him against my tongue.

His groans grow louder, his body trembling under my touch. I move my hand to the base of him, stroking in time with my mouth, and he lets out a deep, guttural sound while his hips jerk slightly forward.

"Fuck.." he moans, his voice thick with pleasure, his grip on my hair tightening as he guides me, pushing me deeper.

His breaths come in heavy, ragged bursts, filling the room alongside the wet, rhythmic sounds of my movements.

I hum softly, the vibration making him groan even louder, his hands shaking slightly in my hair.

"Just like that baby.." he breathes, his voice

strained as he tries to hold himself back.

"God, you're so good at this.."

His words send a thrill through me, and I move faster, taking him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I quicken

my pace. His hips lift off the chair

slightly, his groans becoming more

urgent.

The sound of his pleasure, the feeling of him in my mouth - it's all overwhelming, and I can feel my own need growing

But just as his body tenses on the verge of release, he pulls me up, his hands strong and commanding as he lifts me to my feet. His eyes are dark and wild, his breathing heavy as he stares up at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Strip." he growls, the single word heavy with desire

I obey without hesitation, my heart pounding in my chest as I peel off my clothes slowly, teasing him with every move.

His gaze never leaves me, following every inch of bare skin as it's revealed.

The intensity in his eyes makes my skin prickle with anticipation.

Once I'm fully naked, I straddle his lap again, feeling the heat of his body beneath me. His hands immediately grip my hips, guiding me as I sink down onto him, both of us moaning at the sensation. He fills me completely, and the sudden rush of pleasure makes me gasp, my fingers gripping his broad shoulders for support.

I begin to move slowly, rolling my hips against him, feeling the delicious friction as he presses deeper inside me.

His hands slide up my back, gripping me tightly as he thrusts up to meet my movements.

"You feel so fucking good ." he groans, his voice rough with desire.

I lean in, kissing along his neck, my lips brushing over his pulse point as I ride him faster now.

"You're so big.." I moan softly, my breath hot against his skin.

His hands move down to my ass, gripping me tightly as I grind down against him. Without warning, he brings one hand down hard, delivering a sharp smack to my ass.

The sudden sting makes me gasp, a mix of pleasure and pain shooting through me.

I moan louder, the sensation pushing me higher, my movements becoming more frantic. He smacks me again, harder this time, and I cry out, my nails digging into his

shoulders as I rock against him, the wet sounds of our bodies meeting filling the room.

"Keep going baby." he growls, his voice thick with lust, his hand coming down on me again, sending another wave of heat through me. The sharp smack makes my body tremble, my legs shaking as I ride him harder.

"Oh god Hugh.." I moan, my voice shaky as I feel the tension building inside me, ready to snap at any moment.

"I'm close.."

His hands grip me tighter, guiding me faster.

"Cum for me." he growls.

His voice commanding, full of raw need.

"I wanna feel you."

With one more hard thrust, I fall over the edge, my entire body trembling as the orgasm crashes through me. I cry out his name, my body shaking as the waves of pleasure wash over me, my legs quivering as I ride out the high.

Hugh isn't far behind.

With a low, primal groan, he thrusts up into me one last time, his hands gripping my

waist as he buries himself deep inside me, finding his release.

His head falls back, a deep moan escaping his lips as his body tenses beneath mine, both of us completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

The room is filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, the aftermath of our release still buzzing in the air.

I collapse against him, resting my forehead against his, both of us catching our breath as our bodies slowly come down from the high.

His hands move softly now, stroking my waist and back, his touch gentle and soothing.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still connected, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

There's a deep, lingering intimacy between us, as if we've just shared something beyond physical.

Our eyes meet, filled with love, and we don't need to say anything - the

connection between us says it all.

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Tags:

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07 @rachb629 @chronicallybubbly @marvelgirlie-4

[lisired]

i thought you were dead

pairing: yuta x (f) reader

genre/warnings: murder, angst, violence, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), choking

summary: after investigating the activity of a local gang, your boss abruptly disappears, and it's up to you to find out what happened to him. you almost immediately suspect the reapers, one of the most infamous gangs in seoul. and yuta is willing to lend a hand in your operation, but only at a cost; forget him in the end.

word count: 20k

a/n: part 2/3 of my wanted: dead or alive series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

“I want him dead, woman.”

Every bone in your body was itching with the overwhelmingly extreme urge to roll your eyes. Though rather than lose your job, or potentially your life, you held back and replied, “Got it, boss.” 

You knew this conversation had been long overdue, but that didn’t mean you were any more eager to have it with him. Your boss could be a pain in the ass sometimes. He never cut anyone any slack and he took retribution way too seriously. 

That said, you supposed he had his reasons. As an inner circle member of one the most infamous gangs in the country, he had as much to lose as he had to gain. It made perfect sense, you knew, that he wanted his marks completely dead. Not barely on the cusp of consciousness. 

As if you gave a damn what he wanted.

“Jaehyun giving you a hard time?”

Coming out the door of the arms building, directly beneath the entire two floors of the narcotics trade happenings, you turned when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “When is he not?”

Jeno snickered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He can be a pain in the ass. And he’s even harder on the noobs. I think you’ll get used to it though.”

You snorted. “You have that much confidence in me?”

Jeno nodded. That notorious grin was still on his face to express his amusement, but he seemed authentic as he replied, “Yes, because you’re stronger than the other recruits I see come in and out.”

Your brows furrowed together. In your three months under this gang, barely anybody had spared you genuine kindness. “What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t tried to slap the shit out of him yet.”

That was the last answer you were expecting to hear, so it made you burst into laughter. 

Pleased by having made you laugh, Jeno smiled a little wider. “May I tag along?”

“Please do,” you told him, the tone in your voice dangerously close to desperate. “When I was told I was being assigned to the arms unit, no one told me the head motherfucker of it all is also the one playing God.”

That was a lie, of course. You knew early on that Jaehyun juggled both the arms trafficking operation and the responsibility of getting rid of anybody who slighted the syndicate. Your real boss’ leftover notes were thorough and neat.

But that was nothing Jeno needed to know. As far as he knew, you were merely another newcomer anticipating to make dirty money by illegal means. And you had every last intention of keeping that dirty little image in his head. You had a role to play. 

Pulling a pair of keys from the pockets his hands had been buried in, Jeno chirped, “I’ll do the driving.”

You made no argument, following him to his car and climbing into the passenger seat. 

After giving him the coordinates of whatever location Jaehyun had sent you off to, Jeno drove you halfway across the city to an abandoned warehouse. The whole structure looked a whole breath away from giving in on itself. 

Jeno grimaced. “I’d hate to die here.”

You laughed at that, heading for the door. 

Jaemin blew out an exasperated breath when he saw you entering the warehouse and stood up from a crate he had been sitting on. “Fucking finally. Jaehyun never mentioned that you’d be bringing company.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t blame him for being vexed. The drive here had taken a good minute and if he had been here since you were informed of your assignment, he had been waiting even longer. 

“Nice to see you too, Jaemin,” Jeno replied sarcastically. 

Surprise flickered onto your face for a split second. You had no idea how they knew each other, but it was far from impossible. They both worked for the same bastard whose bidding you were doing right now. 

Jaemin was annoyed. “I would be happier to see you if you both were on time.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jeno pointed at the back of Jaemin’s pants with a sly expression. “You’ve got a little something there.”

With another irritated breath, Jaemin dusted off his pants. Most of his current frustrations seemed aimed at the fact that this warehouse was barely holding itself together. “This place is old as fuck. I think something crawled and died in that crate. Like seven years ago.”

Even though you wanted to giggle, the urge was overcome by the one to get this over with so that you could do something meaningful. “Where’s Kang Hangyeol? I’m trusting you didn’t leave him alone.”

“Do I look like an amateur to you?” Jaemin asked, waving you off. “He’s in the back. There’s no way he’s moving out of that position, dead or alive. Follow me.”

You trailed closely behind as Jaemin led you through the old warehouse. There was a clutter of dust-laden boxes and a slew of spider webs in every available corner. Graffiti that looked maybe a few years old was the only proof of recent human activity. 

“What’s this guy dying for anyway?” you asked, disguising your concern as innocent curiosity. You didn’t want to make it obvious that you were trying to justify your inevitable actions. 

Jaemin, on the other hand, didn’t seem as worried. This was a life he had led for years and no one would expect anything other than him to be committed. “Apparently, he’s a brother. He was caught sneaking on our turf.”

Your brows furrowed, imagining what a brother was doing on Reaper playgrounds. They had no business being even remotely near this gang and any of its less than luxurious locations. “You’re sure he’s a brother?”

“Yeah, they found him in one of those ugly masks.”

Jeno snorted.

Nearing the forthcoming doorway, you reached for the switchblade you had tucked away, unsure what you were going to do with it in the first place. At times, it was less like a weapon and more like a comfort tool. And you needed comfort right now. Your involvement as an undercover cop didn’t legally or emotionally justify taking someone’s life. 

No doubt, it was the worst part of being undercover. You advanced your way through the ranks most times, meaning you gained enough authority to convince your new peers to spare innocent lives, but this syndicate was something bigger than you had ever experienced. It would take years to infiltrate their innermost hierarchy. And you didn’t have years. 

Jaemin reached for the door knob and pulled it open, expecting to see a half-conscious man bound with his arms behind his back. Imagine your collective shock when you saw nothing but an empty wooden chair next to a pile of rope. 

“Where’s Hangyeol?” Jaemin stammered. 

“I was expecting you to know,” you mumbled, inspecting what all was leftover. There were a few drops of blood on the chair at best. You clutched your switchblade tighter.

At least Jaehyun wouldn’t be pissed at you this time. You could already imagine the verbal backlash Jaemin was going to get for this. Not even you had messed up this badly before. 

Jeno leaned on the wall, entertained by everything as always. “Nah, you don’t seem like an amateur, man. Total pro.”

Jaemin groaned, “This is serious!”

Not a second later, you heard a gunshot echoing out in the main entrance of the warehouse. This felt like a setup somehow. You clutched your switchblade tighter, hissing, “You had one fucking job, Jaemin!”

He opened his mouth to say something about how this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t have to babysit you to make sure you went through with the kill, but you all froze when you heard a second gunshot. 

Jaemin grabbed the bag slung over his shoulders and set it down on the chair where your mark should have been instead. He handed Jeno a gun and took one for himself, then pivoted towards you. “You sure you don’t want one?”

You shook your head. The knife in your hands would suffice. They always had. “I’m good.”

“You know what they say,” Jeno chimed in. “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

That was true for someone maybe. But even though you had gone through your annual firearm training with the academy, you were stubborn and preferred your blades. “She’s my baby.”

“That’s even worse. Who brings a baby to a gunfight?”

You were tempted to laugh, but you could hear the chaos unfolding practically right outside the door and it unnerved you. “I do. Let’s go.”

The dark hallway outside the old storage closet led you back to the main entrance of the warehouse through a little opening. You could see brothers rummaging the place and took a wild guess that they were here to take back their own. 

A little headcount went on in your head as you noted the number of armed, masked men you saw lurking expectantly around every inch of the unloading site. The three of you were definitely outnumbered, that was for certain. 

“I counted fourteen,” you whispered quietly. “Are we good?”

Jeno nodded, gun close to his chest. He looked more serious right now than ever. “I’ve got your six. Let’s move.”

That was all you needed to hear as you dove headfirst into the bloody sea of chaos. While Jaemin and Jeno immediately started to fire their weapons, stealing all the attention, you hid close on anything you could find and ambushed, coming up behind and dragging your blade against the cold necks of your enemies. 

Your ears went deaf to the cacophony of masculine shouts as men dropped like flies around you. The sound bled into choked noises with every throat you impaled. 

They were strong men, but you were swifter. Both were lethal and dangerous, but they couldn’t touch you if you didn’t let them. You were too nimble for them to keep up with, too quick.

But the one time you didn’t move quick enough, you rolled onto the filthy floor and looked down the barrel of a gun. You groaned, raising your head a little higher to meet the bloody eyes of your mark. 

He was right there in the flesh, hovering over you with a sly grin as if he was proud of what he had done. You were insulted to even be held at gunpoint. Every desire to spare him immediately fled your body and you raised your switchblade, penetrating his throat without hesitation. 

Not stopping to watch him bleed, you turned your head just quickly enough to see Jeno’s gun be kicked out of his hands. You wiped the blood from your knife and furtively approached his aggressor, briefly catching him off guard and kicking the gun back. 

Jeno scrambled towards the gun and quickly opened fire, the sound making your ears ring obnoxiously. 

“Goddamn,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. 

Jaemin came over panting for breath, glancing around to make sure the entire room had been cleared. “I think I should be getting paid extra for this.”

Jeno snorted and came to a stand, directing his attention back to your face. “Remind me to never again invite myself on one of your assignments.”

Your shoulders shook with a laugh. That was fair enough. But there was definitely bigger fish to fry right now. How in the hell did the Brotherhood know where Kang Hangyeol was being held?

The three of your phones beeped collectively. With all the fighting and being thrown you each had done, it was a miracle they were still functioning. You glanced down to read a message Jaehyun had sent. 

Several bases have been attacked. Going incognito. More details later. Lay low until further notice. 

Your brows furrowed. “What the hell?”

“Vague as fuck,” Jeno replied, as if he had read your mind. “He must be in a meeting.”

Jaemin scoffed. “So what do we do then? Just wait around to die?”

You closed your blade and shook your head, reminding, “You’re already going to die. You let Kang Hangyeol get away. Remember?”

“That’s not the version of the story I plan on telling Jaehyun.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you start being nice to me, I’ll leave that part out of my report.”

Jaemin hummed, as if he was mulling it over. “Deal.”

You nodded with a tiny sigh. Nothing good was going to come out of rival gangs taking turns exacting revenge on each other. You knew that like you knew the law. 

Jeno safely returned you to the headquarters with a little farewell and warning to be safe before you went your separate ways. Normally, you would meet Jaehyun in person to briefly discuss the happenings of your task, but he wasn’t in his office. He would have to settle for the paragraph you sent to his phone. 

Upon entering the tiny apartment you had surprisingly been offered by the Reapers, you almost immediately collapsed on the bed, worn down by exhaustion. 

You had nearly dozed off completely when the sound of your phone ringing made you jolt awake. “Hello?” you answered weakly. 

“Is someone sleepy?” Ten teased. 

You groaned. If not for the fact that you had recognized your co-worker’s number, you would be sleeping right now. “I had a very, very long day.”

That piqued Ten’s interest. “You did? Tell me everything.”

You sat up, trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. Stifling a yawn, you replied nonchalantly, “Oh, you know. The usual running around the city, trying to look like a loyal employee, and nearly getting shot to death.”

“Nearly getting shot to death?” Ten’s voice was loud as hell, repeating your words with shock. 

Well, if you weren’t awake before, you definitely were now. “I’m fine. No more bullets for me. It wasn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last either.”

You couldn’t recall the first time someone had attempted to shoot you, but the memory of the first and last time they successfully did so was something you would always remember. Across the world in the United States, on a mission to track and detain a gang leader moving in and out of the country to evade arrest. 

Surprisingly enough, with it being an open case, that wasn’t even the mission that made you quit being a spy. Until now. 

“You got lucky the last time you got shot,” Ten replied, hating how casual you were about it but almost somewhat impressed. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I’ll try,” you replied quietly, fully awake but still mindful of the fact that these walls were thin and you had no intention of exposing yourself. You switched the topic. “How’s the birthday boy?”

Ten wanted to talk more about the hectic day you had, but he supposed he could let it slide this once. “He’s twenty-five and drunk as all hell.”

You shook your head in amusement. You had expected nothing less. “I remember when I turned twenty-five.”

“I don’t,” Ten retorted. “I was blackout drunk too. He’s not going to remember either.”

You snickered. As long as Mark was having fun, that was all that mattered. “He should go wild. At that age, life becomes more about experiencing and less about surviving.”

“I assume that’s why you think barely dodging a bullet is no big deal?”

You resisted a roll of your eyes. Leave it to Ten to be utterly dramatic when it came to all things big and small. “No, actually. I call that focusing on the things I can control and not dwelling on what’s behind me.”

Ten sighed. You were insufferably stubborn, and even when you had gotten shot your first priority was still your work. They had to more or less chain you down to make you rest. “Whatever,” he replied, tone laced with disapproval. “Do you want me to put him on?”

“Yes, please.”

There was a moment of shuffling as Ten went to find Mark, not that it took very long. In a matter of seconds, you heard Mark enthusiastically greeting you by your name. 

“Hey, birthday boy,” you said happily, content to hear your co-workers’ voices. It brought them peace too. Knowing you were still alive and breathing somewhere. “How much did you drink?”

Mark chuckled. You could imagine he was rubbing his nape right now. “Not gonna lie, I have no idea. But I’m feeling good.”

“As to be expected,” you replied, leaning back a little against the headboard of the bed. “How have you been?”

“I’m honestly bummed that you’re not here. But hey, I did finish this case I was working on. I kept asking myself what you would do.”

You snorted. “And that’s how you solved the case?”

“Well, Ten and Jisung helped too,” Mark confessed. 

You laughed. 

“What about you?” Mark asked. “How’s the case going? I heard Ten screeching something about you almost getting shot. You good?”

Your mind brought you back to that moment for a second, being knocked underneath the mark and coming face to face with the barrel of a gun, but you banished the thought away. “I’m good. Not a nick or bruise.”

Mark hummed. He chose to believe you had everything under control. It wasn’t that he didn’t worry about you sometimes, but he knew what you were capable of and admired your strength. “And the case. How do you feel about finding Kun?”

Something about the mention of your boss made you frown. After retiring from being an undercover spy three years ago, you decided to make yourself useful in other ways, and had been transferred directly under his unit. You had mainly adjusted to handling organized crime without being on the field yourself. 

A few months ago, Kun had been investigating a gang called the Reapers. He’d been playing it close to the chest and you only found out because he had been acting suspiciously lately. He made you swear to secrecy, which you did. Until he disappeared into thin air. 

The worst part was that he had been missing for literal months and you didn’t feel like you had made any significant progress. You knew deep down that his chances of being alive were slimmer than ever, but you wanted to have faith in the odds. Kun had dedicated his entire life to the force, but he wanted to settle down someday. He wanted a wife and maybe a couple of kids. 

The thought that he would never get to do those things chilled you to the core every time it crossed your mind. You sighed and replied honestly, “I feel like it’ll be a while, but I’m doing everything I can.”

Mark would have to be content with that answer for now. He knew you would find Kun, whether it be dead or alive. He just hoped it would be the latter. “I have faith in you,” he told you sincerely. 

“Thank you,” you replied, somewhat comforted by those words. “I’ll hear from you again soon. Happy birthday.”

Mark smiled as he held Ten’s phone to his ear. “Thanks. Talk to you later.”

The very next day, you woke up to another message from Jaehyun that had less to do with details about the attacks from yesterday and more to do with something about a weird buddy system. According to him, you would new a partner from now on. 

You didn’t exactly have many friends here, so your first instinct was to call Jeno. 

“What do you mean you already have a partner?” you asked, flabbergasted. Something told you that he had chosen Jaemin over you. 

Jeno was trying his best to let you down gently. “I mean, I already have a partner. You called a little too late. It’s a shame we can only choose one. The three of us would’ve made a good team.” 

You sighed exasperatedly. You were on a to-and-from lockdown, no detours. And you needed a partner for whatever fucking reason. This gang was impossible. “Do you have some kind of humiliation kink? That fool almost got us killed yesterday.”

Jeno tried to stifle a chortle and failed miserably. “He might be a fool, but he’s my friend. I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me when you’re in cahoots with Na Jaemin of all the people in the world.”

You could hear Jeno sighing from the other line, contemplating the situation carefully. He didn’t want to leave you hanging. “Hear me out,” he started. 

Although you were glancing down at the phone in the palm of your hand with a blend of disdain and disappointment, you answered reluctantly, “I’m hearing you.”

“I heard around that some of the high-ranks are taking in their best soldiers.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly, not sure if you liked where this was going or not. But you chose to think about it pragmatically. If you were closer to the high-ranks, you had more access to hidden intel.

“I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows a guy. He’s the gang’s tracker. The one who can find anyone and everyone. If there’s anyone who can keep you safe, it’s him,” he continued. 

So he was a dangerous man. Not that you were any afraid. You had met many lethal men and yet you were still breathing. “Okay. When can I meet him?”

“Right now.”

Your head snapped behind you. That voice didn’t belong to the one on your phone. It belonged to someone merely a couple feet away from you. If you thought you were stealthy, this man gave you a run for every dime you owned. 

You stumbled back. Your eyes went wide. The blood drained from your face as if you had seen a ghost. And to be fair, that was exactly what was happening. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Yuta told you indifferently. The sound of his voice did nothing to put your nerves at ease. Your shoulders were cold. Your heart was thudding. 

You had been located by the tracker. You swallowed sharply. It took every bit of your strength not to collapse in front of him. “You’re the third-in-command.”

“That’s me,” Yuta replied calmly. He took your phone and hung up the call. You hadn’t even registered Jeno’s bemused voice calling out to you worriedly. 

To be frank, it felt like you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. This was the last man you were expecting to see. Ever. “I can find another partner.”

Yuta chuckled. “You will find another partner in a group of people who hate talking to strangers whose intentions they don’t know?”

“You don’t know my intentions either.”

That seemed to amuse Yuta more than the last response you gave him. “Kim Yeongsu. Ahn Dongil. Cho Geonhan. You still want to play dumb?”

That had your attention. Your work always came first. You would follow the trail of breadcrumbs if it meant there was a chance they would lead you to success, even if it was a trap. 

Yuta didn’t wait for your answer. Apparently the look on your face said more than enough. You were game. “Go to housing. Pack your shit. I know you didn’t bring a ton anyways.”

That was a little too true, but a thought crossed your mind. He was helping you, and you couldn’t imagine why. “What do you want in return?” you asked skeptically. 

The little grin on Yuta’s lips fell. You felt something gloomy inside you stirring, but ignored it the best you could. There was no time for old emotions. After a small pause, he replied darkly, “Forget we ever happened.”

“Consider it already done,” you said, cold as ice, and paid the throbbing emptiness in your chest no mind. 

After you gathered what few things you had from the apartment you’d been given, you went straight to Yuta’s place. He was none too happy to see you, at least from the less than warm look on his face, but he opened his doors for you and let you inside. 

Leading you down the hall to an extra bedroom, Yuta skipped the greetings and niceties. “I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t bother me and don’t leave on your own. I don’t feel like getting shit from Taeyong.”

You nodded. Yuta turned and headed out, and the second he was out of earshot you grumbled something under your breath. Did he really have to be so rude?

Maybe you deserved it. Not that you would ever admit it to him or yourself. The way you saw it, you had only done everything you knew to do best. You had made no commitments. The only thing you ever promised was absolute and unwavering loyalty to your work. 

Fuck’s sake, you were still in shock. You had spent the past three years of your life believing something that couldn’t have been more false. Three years of your life you would never get back. Didn’t you deserve to be angry too?

Aggravated, you started to unpack your things and put them away somewhere safe. Yuta was right about you not having many belongings. You never did when you were on missions, or even in the very rare event that you were on vacation. They would only weigh you down. 

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand when you were done, knowing Jeno would most likely be demanding some kind of explanation for your abrupt hang-up, and sent a text his way. Yuta is taking me in or whatever. Take care of yourself. And tell Jaemin to be safe too. 

Jeno sent a message back after a few moments. Well, you thought it was Jeno, but considering the content of the message, someone else had gotten ahold of his phone. I’m always safe, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take perfect care of Jeno. 

You immediately typed a response, After what happened yesterday? Doubtful. 

Will you ever let me live that down?

Unlikely. 

Jaemin was probably somewhere rolling his eyes at your message. In a few seconds, he answered, Are you a human or a magic eight ball?

You laughed a little at that. Some of the stress elevated from your chest, though not by much. You were still fighting in a close battle with your feelings - shock, anger, bitterness. All of the above. 

They were becoming almost uncontrollably strong and the last thing you wanted was to be unable to put a rein on your emotions. You stood up and headed out what was your room for the next who knew how long, checking out the apartment to distract yourself. 

You had been here before. Once. You had gotten hurt and since it was the closest option, Yuta opted to bring you back to his home for the first time to take care of you. The other times you only met in hotels. 

He had taken you to his living room and prompted your legs up on the coffee table, gingerly tending to your injuries. You remembered the guilt in his eyes every time he heard you hiss and saw you grimace. You remembered the way he tried to kiss it better. 

Even now, that same coffee table was still here three years later. The apartment was more or less as you remembered, but Yuta wasn’t. He was so much colder than he was before, but maybe you had done that to him. 

None of it helped. You were still emotional. Remembering the way things used to be only strengthened the tremor in your heart. The only reasonable thing you could do now was focus on your work. At the end of the day, you had a job to do, after all. 

You spotted Yuta with a cup of coffee in the kitchen and mustered the courage to approach him, announcing, “I have a question.”

Yuta winced his eyes closed. “What about ‘don’t bother me’ was confusing to you?”

You took his annoyance in stride. “This group and the Brotherhood are basically at war with each other. Why?”

Yuta shrugged, sipping from his coffee. “We’re their only competition. Do the math.”

You hummed. You had learned that the Reapers dominated the drug market and it was their most lucrative branch of business. Even though you worked beneath its entire two floor levels, you were never allowed to become too privy to the operation itself. It was forbidden knowledge if you were too new. “Have you ever run into one?” you asked curiously. 

“Nope,” Yuta replied nonchalantly. “They’re all mousy about showing their faces and they wear weird masks and stuff.”

That you had learned from your encounter with them the other day, which you wondered if was worth mentioning to Yuta. You decided against it for now. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“You want to know who killed your beloved department chief,” Yuta sang knowingly, setting his mug of coffee down on the counter. 

Those words made you shudder, wondering if he had been keeping tabs on you, but you kept pressing. “Was it the gang?”

Yuta initially shook his head, but then he seemed to genuinely think about it for a second. The silence only served to make you anxious. There was a small pause before he answered, “Well, if someone did, neither of us signed off on the decision. We don’t kill cops. It’s too messy. I don’t like messy.”

You believed him. Though the decision to meddle with cops not being greenlit by the inner circle didn’t mean that any low-ranks weren’t involved. You had to keep digging. “I’m assuming all the names you gave me were low-ranks then,” you replied, piecing things together. “I haven’t ran them through the system yet.”

“They’re low-ranks who had pretty bad prior run-ins with cops,” Yuta explained. 

You were surprised they would knowingly even take in anyone like that, considering how much they seemed against it. “One of them probably did it, then.”

“When you find out, let me know so I can hang them on a billboard in town square,” Yuta said coolly, to no one’s surprise. 

“Or you can let me bring them back to the station and we’ll persecute them to the highest extent of the law,” you suggested instead.

Yuta shook his head, none too enthusiastic to let you do things the legal and proper way. If someone in his gang had done this, they had violated a highly important rule that was more like a law of his own. “My way’s quicker.”

You rolled your eyes while he wasn’t paying attention. There was never any use arguing with Yuta Nakamoto when he wanted something. You learned that early on. He was unshakable in his ways and couldn’t be bent and manipulated into shape like the other pawns you’d hunted. 

But that was what you had liked about him. At least, one of many things on his abundantly long list of attractive traits. The others had only been deliberately chosen expendable tools to leech new intel off and dispose of when you got what you wanted. 

When you met Yuta, however, you knew he could never just be another pawn in your twisted game of survival. He was too intuitive, too perceptive for his own good and yours. You never had the upper hand for long with him. You both had something to lose in mingling with each other, and strangely enough, that made things more exciting. 

Yuta dismissed himself first as if he sensed more questions approaching and knew to disappear before you could conjure them in your head. “Sleep well. I’ve got an early meeting with the boys tomorrow morning, which means you have to come too.”

You watched his back sadly as he left. It was impressive you had gotten him to speak so much, considering he seemed to want nothing to do with you. Though if that was the case, why did he go out of his way to be partners with you?

That was the one thing giving you hope - the single most dangerous thing for someone like you to have. 

Tomorrow rolled around, and like he said you would, you accompanied Yuta to an inner circle meeting. More accurately, you waited outside for him to finish while they discussed the gang’s next steps and back-up plan if their biggest rival challenged them again. 

Nothing you were interested in. You only cared to know who was responsible for the fact that your boss was presumably dead. So far, there was no body, which gave you even more ammunition to keep searching rather than readily move on. 

In your thoughts as you stood outside the door of the conference room, you jolted out of them when you noticed someone coming. And to your surprise, it was Jeno’s footsteps you were hearing. 

Jeno had been looking at his phone, but acknowledged your presence with a baffled look when he glanced up at you. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were here too.”

The shock was mutual. You waved at him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you either.”

“Yeah, Jaemin’s here too,” Jeno replied, slipping his phone into his back pocket and giving you his undivided attention. “He’s downstairs looking for coffee. He really wanted an Iced Americano.”

You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “Fish found in the ocean. Who’s surprised?”

Jeno was shaking with laughter. “No one, I guess. I’m also not surprised that they’re kicking us outside instead of letting us listen in on the meeting.”

There was no surprise there. Reapers were painfully stingy with important information, as you had come to know. “I know,” you groaned in annoyance. “Like we don’t deserve to know what the fuck is going on.”

Jeno nodded along, bobbing his head in agreement. He leaned in, mindful of the fact there were a number of dangerous men right behind the door, and whispered, “That’s what I’m saying. Jaehyun ended up more or less adopting Jaemin and I. If you think you hate the guy right now, imagine living in his house.”

You winced, feeling sympathetic. Between his housing situation and yours, you didn’t know which was worse. “Damn.”

He looked behind him to the conference room, hidden behind a glass wall. You could see in all you wanted, but couldn’t hear a word of the conversation. “This buddy system is weird as all fuck. Meeting like this is even stupider,” Jeno said, blunt as ever. “Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.”

You hadn’t thought about something like that. In all truth, you had been thinking about Yuta. Nothing he was doing made sense right now and you sensed an ulterior motive behind his seemingly kind actions. He had never helped you for free, after all. There always came a price. 

The price didn’t seem so bad back then. You could have signed your life away to him and wouldn’t have even noticed. He helped you, feeding you intel on an underground fighting gang in Japan, and in return you helped him, giving him special access to cop affairs. 

It cost more now. Or at least it felt that way. The tension was unbearable and the memories leapt at every opportunity to weigh on your mind as well as your heart. Once upon a time, you only felt Yuta’s weight on your body. Things were so much easier before. 

“I guess so,” you told Jeno, forcibly grounding yourself back in the moment. “But I think that all depends on the Brotherhood’s motivations for attacking and what they plan on getting out of this.” 

“A few people are gonna have to die before that gets figured out,” Jeno replied darkly. 

That was very true. Naturally, you had already come to that conclusion too. At this rate, you were expecting a hefty number of casualties on both ends. 

The meeting droned on for what seemed like an eternity before Yuta finally stepped out of the conference room with most of his fellow members in tow. A few had stayed back for whatever reason, but the ones that headed out barely paid you a lick of attention as they made a beeline for the elevator. 

Not that you were complaining, of course. The fact that you were a mere blip on their radar was a good sign, all things considered. But it made you realize that Yuta had never told them what you were. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around why he was helping you. Every time you tried not to worry about the intent behind his deeds, it backfired immediately. And so when you were alone in his car, you asked, “Why are you helping me if you hate me so badly?”

“I’m not helping you,” Yuta told you, buckling his seat belt around his waist. His eyes were nowhere on you. Like you didn’t concern him at all. “I’m helping myself. The sooner you find the bastard that killed your boss, the sooner I can tie up loose ends, and the sooner we can both move on with our lives.”

He didn’t deny hating you. Something about that made your stomach churn. “Well, at least you’re honest,” you mumbled. “And we don’t know if he was killed or not.”

You knew better than to think that he was alive, but you wouldn’t accept it until you saw his corpse for yourself. The people in your unit had come to mean a lot to you over the years. 

Yuta scoffed. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see something bitter in his expression. “Your boss has been missing for what? Two or three months now? You know the statistics better than I do, baby. He’s dead.”

“Statistics aren’t foolproof,” you reminded. 

“I thought they would be to you. Glad to know I was wrong.”

You caught it this time, mainly because he wasn’t cloaking it. The resentment covering his words from head to toe. He wanted you to know he hated you. You swallowed sharply. Message fucking received. 

The ride back was silent. You had everything to say to him, but even more pride. It would do you no good with someone as stubborn as Yuta Nakamoto himself. What would it fix if you admitted you’d done him dirty? Not a goddamn thing. 

You raced into his apartment without another word when you both arrived. There were bigger problems than whatever was going on between the two of you. No issue, big or small, would be allowed to come between you and work and anyone who dared try ultimately faced your wrath. 

Once in your room, you opened your laptop and entered the names Yuta had given you along with additional information you had stumbled across and cross-referenced them against the unit’s current findings. And you came up empty. There was nothing that lent any support to either of those three men being the perpetrators, other than their history of assault on cops which Yuta had already informed you of. 

To say nothing of the fact that the crimes seemed very spontaneous, according to the incident reports available. Like they were simply doing whatever they had to do to remove themselves from the corner they’d been backed into. They were apprehended immediately. No repeats and nothing that screamed violent disdain of cops. 

It was unlikely that their behavior would escalate from second-degree murder to a deliberately executed abduction of a police chief. You shut your laptop, groaning. Yet again, I have fucking nothing.

Nightfall came and a lot of time sped by doing even more research, but to no avail. You weren’t any closer to solving the disappearance of your boss and it was making your skin crawl. Three years away was starting to make you think that you’d lost your touch as a covert. 

Uncontrollably, your mind started to wander to the past. The case that earned you your rep as a prolific undercover agent and simultaneously the last one you ever worked. A memory held you hostage, one of many. 

The room was so hot you couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help that Yuta’s naked body was tangled with yours, refusing to let go after a few long rounds of love-making. At the very least, the luxurious hotel room on the top floor had comfortable bedding and a beautiful window outlook of Yokohama. 

Though your breath was more taken by the view of the gorgeous man in your grip. And the intimate moment you had shared together. “Yuta, I’m scared,” you told him quietly. 

Not more than a few words had been exchanged since you two finished, so Yuta was surprised to hear you speak. “What are you scared of, darling?”

Your heart raced by a thousand miles per hour as you sucked in a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and level. It was not often you were made nervous by something, so Yuta had assumed whatever was troubling you was more or less life-threatening. In a way, he was spot-on. 

His eyes were squarely on you, giving you his undivided attention. Which only made your heart flutter quicker. “I’m scared because I like you,” you confessed in a whisper. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in surprise. Not by what you had said, but the fact that you’d said it aloud. The two of you had been dancing around the subject of romance for a couple of months now, focusing on the main task instead of the love inadvertently developing between you more quickly than you’d hoped. He hummed. “That scares you?”

“It’s not just that,” you replied, knowing how it sounded. “We’re on two separate sides of the law. After this operation inevitably ends, I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore. I will go back to my way of life and you will go back to yours.”

That had always been the plan. Once you ultimately exhausted your purposes for each other, this little alliance would break. Though Yuta’d had a change of heart. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said, cradling your face. “We don’t have to live completely separate lives forever. You’re obviously good at keeping secrets. No one has to know.”

“But it’s wrong.”

“Playing with my dick when you’re supposed to be looking for a serial killer is okay, but secretly being in a relationship with me behind your handler’s back is where you draw the big red line? That cuts deep, babe,” he joked. 

“It’s a thin gray line,” you corrected, matching his humor. “And I think I found the serial killer.”

Yuta playfully rolled his eyes. He’d told you just enough about his job that you didn’t paralyze with fear whenever he touched you, in spite of knowing he had taken lives and would do it again in a heartbeat. He was a protector, a defender. “Yeah, wrong one, baby.”

You giggled. The noise made Yuta’s heart swell in his chest like never before. He wanted to defend you with everything he had, destroy anybody who dreamed of laying even the tip of their fingers on you. He would crush entire worlds in his palm for you.

“I like you too,” Yuta admitted, as if it hadn’t already been obvious. The man fucked you like he wanted to consume you right after. “More than I ever thought I would. Five months ago, I would’ve never imagined I’d be holding you in my arms like this right now, but I wouldn’t have you anywhere else. So tell me what I gotta do to keep you here.”

His words nearly had your head spinning. Your eyes were brimming with affection. “Just hold me like this forever,” you replied softly. 

Yuta smirked. “I think that can be arranged.”

The memory seemed so close, yet so far away. Sometimes you wished you were still somewhere in a hotel in Yokohama or in the alps of Hakone with him pressed into your side. You pictured cherry blossoms and scenic lakes with a view of mountain peaks touching the clouds. You pictured Yuta enthusiastically showing you to all his favorite stops, hand in yours. 

You couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely smiled at you now. The promise to take you to his hometown was one of the last things he’d told you. You remembered how excited he had been. And now he wouldn’t even look at you. 

That hurt like a bitch. 

Something else was bothering you. You more or less always knew Yuta was a powerful gang member, but you never realized he was one of the most influential members of the Reapers. The two of you had been too focused on what was ahead of you to look behind. 

It made you wonder what you really knew about each other. You had seen him as an oasis away from dreadful work, someone who was passionate and intuitive. Someone who got more and more interesting every time he spoke. Someone who kept his heart under lock and key, but loved you with all of it.

Yuta had taken months to get to know. Intentionally. He preferred to take his time when it came to sizing people up and understanding them before they could do the same to him. And he was very, very good at doing so. He guarded his heart and only allowed you to see what he wanted you to see. But you knew how to disarm him.

Like you, he was also obstinate as all hell. It was immovable object meets unstoppable force meeting him. Things were still that way now. You would have to fight like hell and then some if you wanted to prove that you still deserved to be in his life, because he would fight even harder against it. 

You knew he was not one to forgive or forget and he could take a grudge to the grave if he so pleased. Scorpion was his name and stinging was his game. Viper and venom. No wonder his job was to hunt and kill anybody who slighted the gang enough. He was revenge personified. 

Tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep even after a steaming hot shower, you swallowed your pride and paraded straight to Yuta’s bedroom. The door was unlocked. You poked your head inside, the movement not unnoticed by Yuta. He was still awake. 

“The day is already over,” Yuta said dismissively, glancing away from you. “You can bother me with questions tomorrow.”

“I’m not here to ask questions.”

Yuta raised a brow, turning to you again. “Then why are you here?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was going to make things awkward. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” you whispered.

“You don’t want to sleep alone,” Yuta repeated, as if he had misheard you.

You nodded slowly. When he echoed your words back to you like that, it only made you feel stupid for thinking he would let you share a room with him, let alone a bed. 

Yuta contemplated your words for a while, mulling a decision over. After a moment, he sighed, relenting. “Come here.”

That surprised you thoroughly. You were half expecting him to tell you that he didn’t give a damn and ask you what you wanted him to do about it. You took a few tentative steps over to him. 

Yuta quirked his brow, patting the spot beside him. His skin looked like honey in the golden-yellow hue of his lamplight. “What are you waiting for? Get in the bed.”

You hesitantly crawled into the bed, underneath his sheets. You were scared of something. You didn’t want to make any more mistakes when it came to him. 

Yuta could practically smell your fear like the musk of an animal. He couldn’t help it. He had seen all of your emotions, especially the ones you pretended not to have in front of others. And he knew them intimately.

He suppressed a smirk. Was it wrong to bask in it a little? “What are you scared of?” he asked. 

Those five words made you freeze, remembering where you had heard them before. That night you confessed your feelings to Yuta in a Yokohama hotel. “I’m not scared of anything,” you lied through your teeth. 

Yuta knew you were lying. He always did, after all. “Tell me the truth.”

You swallowed. He was always so good at reading you. The words were at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say them. “I… didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve had women in my bed before, you know,” Yuta replied with a snicker. “I think I’ll be okay.”

You almost rolled your eyes, but then you started thinking about how many women had slept beside him since you weren’t in his life. Your mind was picturing Yuta with some faceless girl, giggling naked underneath the sheets as you had done three years too long ago. 

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, turning around with your back to him. “Goodnight.”

Yuta called out your name sternly. “Look at me.”

You slowly faced him. It was hard to look him in the eyes, but you did it anyway. You wanted to seize the control back. 

Never in a million years would you have assumed that of all things, Yuta would kiss you restlessly. You reciprocated without hesitation, falling into the kiss as if you were picking up where you’d left off. 

Yuta tangled his fingers through your hair, lips moving against yours with something that was dangerously close to pining. Your heart raced at the thought, wondering if he missed you the way you missed him. Three years was too long to be without the only man you’d ever loved. 

Full of surprises, Yuta pressed his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and marking you as his possessively. He would never admit it to your face, but that was his intent. You couldn’t resist a moan. Yuta knew exactly what to do to get you falling apart in his arms and begging for more like you just couldn’t get enough. 

Your entire body burned with fever. Your eyes winced closed when Yuta sank his teeth into your flesh, the sensation teetering somewhere on that thin line between pain and pleasure. You knew he would leave behind a number of bruises by the time he was finished with you, and you weren’t complaining. 

Yuta had gotten a taste of you and now he couldn’t will himself to stop, against his better judgment. The part of him that wanted to loathe you with every fiber of his being would have to be put on hold for now. He wanted you too badly. His ever-growing resentment for you be damned. 

You missed kissing Yuta to the last breath. Your body remembered what it was like, tasting and sucking on each other’s tongues, and it started to shudder with excitement at the memory. Amongst other things. 

Yuta recognized the telltale signs of you becoming aroused and decided to take things a step further, testing the waters to see if they would slam him against rocks. He brought a hand to your thigh where he knew you were weak and defenseless, tenderly kneading the skin. 

Like clockwork, you were tensing underneath his hands, needily pressing your thighs together. Goddammit it, he still remembered what your weak spots were and how to use them to his advantage. There was something about his warm hand on your skin clashing with the cold nudge of his rings that made you shudder. 

“Yuta,” you called out, reaching your breaking point. 

He didn’t say anything, having too much fun teasing you and watching you get worked over something so simple. “Hm?”

You stifled an irritated groan. He knew exactly what you were going to say, and you knew he only wanted to hear it from your own mouth. “I want you,” you confessed, as if it wasn’t obvious. 

Yuta watched your face, recognizing the look of absolute dwindling patience, and chuckled. “You want me how?”

“However you want.”

Yuta’s eyes flickered in astonishment for all of two seconds. Given the circumstances, he hadn’t expected to hear you say you would let him have you however he wanted, but it damn sure did wonders to turn him on. More than he was already, that is. 

You were less surprised when Yuta stole another steamy and borderline erotic kiss, his hands settling firmly on your jaw instead of combing through your hair this time. His tongue in your mouth had your heart fluttering and your body scalding with relentless desire. 

Yuta withdrew from the kiss to toss his shirt above his head. You mirrored him, and in the few seconds it concealed his face from your view, you were oblivious to where his darkening gaze had sunk. It wasn’t until your shirt was cast into oblivion that you realized he was staring at your belly. 

You glanced down, having forgotten about the long red gunshot scar. You opened your mouth to speak, but Yuta beat you to a word. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked almost threateningly, switching on a dime. 

You shook your head, reaching out to soothe him. “Yuta, it was two years ago.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

You sighed through your nose. The man responsible was already rotting in prison, for life most likely. You were satisfied. “Some guy named Levi Clark,” you told him. “He’s an American. It happened when I got invited to the States on a classified that went open.”

Yuta hummed. The response was nonchalant itself, but you could see the little gears turning in his head the way they always did when he was up to no good. 

“He’s in prison,” you continued, sensing it would be worth including. 

Yuta nodded. “Okay.”

Your brow raised with suspicion. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

Much, much worse, Yuta thought grimly to himself. But rather than have you worry your pretty little head off, he kissed the corner of your lips and lied, “Of course not.”

You didn’t believe him at all, not even for a half second, but you weren’t going to say anything. Especially not when he started to kiss his way down your body from your supple breasts to your inner thighs, making sure to be extra tender when his lips brushed against your scar. 

His lips sank even lower, fingers raveling in your underwear and yanking them below your ankles. They were right between your legs yet still not where you needed them, pressing sweet and slow kisses on your thighs, which was nothing like how you remembered him. Yuta was hard and fast. 

You let him have his way, kissing and biting at your sensitive thighs while knowing the sensation drove you wild, your body visibly exuding arousal. It was enough for him to effortlessly slip his fingers inside, but he didn’t dare, thumbing your nub with his hand solely to watch you writhe and squirm. 

“Yuta,” you called out, voice teetering toward a whimper. “Don’t tease.”

Yuta raised a brow, pretending to be confused. Like he wasn’t deliberately trying to get a rise out of you. “You said I could do whatever I want with you. And I want to watch you get worked up over me.”

“I know, but…,” you trailed. “Please?”

Yuta knew how much you hated begging, so for you to say please meant you didn’t just want him - you needed him like you needed blood in your veins. And it turned him on even crazier. 

He made a spur of the moment decision to get a hold of your hips and pull you onto him, making you sit on his face. You released a shaky noise when he began to suck and lick at your neglected bundle of nerves without warning, his hands gripping your thighs for purchase. 

Yuta ate you out skillfully, pressing all the right buttons. Literally. His tongue was giving your clit ample attention, expertly doing everything he knew to have you moaning loudly and riding his face for more. Your arms were on either side of his head, gripping the sheets for dear life. 

You could hardly breathe. You moaned a breathless, “Fuck,” as he continued to go to town, obviously keen on eating you out until you went limp and couldn’t keep yourself upright. 

Yuta gripped your thighs roughly, scraping them with his nails. He didn’t mind how they were suffocating him at the moment, the sides of your knees pressing into his head every time you tensed and shuddered. Yuta kept going, nose brushing against your clit every now and then. 

“Holy fuck. Shit. Fuck,” you swore, all other previously existing vocabulary exiting on the right. 

Yuta was satisfied by that reaction. You tended to do that when you felt too good - forget everything except him and his uncanny talent for making you unravel. Something about knowing he was more or less the only thing on your mind made his already stiff cock even harder. 

You needed this more right now than ever. You could physically feel the tension escaping your mind and body, unshackling your bones and letting you breathe. Even Yuta could tell you were in dire need of relief and he took it upon himself to make sure you got enough to make your toes curl. 

“Yuta…,” you whimpered, grinding into his mouth like nothing would ever satisfy you. 

Fuck’s sake, you were going to be the death of him. The way you called out Yuta’s name made him want to shove you onto his mattress to fuck the breath of you and then some. He resisted for now. Knowing how rough he could get, he wanted to be certain you were ready to take him. 

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. This was the first time in three years you had experienced sexual contact from another human being and it was safe to say you were touch-starved. Your entire body tremored with the excitement not only of being touched again, but of being flush against Yuta once more. 

Yuta couldn’t lie. Well, he could and he most definitely would try, but he’d missed you too. The romantic aspect of his longing aside, you were a goddess in his eyes and he always worshiped your body the way it deserved. Which, after long hours of being hard at work, you had never not appreciated. 

After having been with Yuta, you knew no one else would ever satisfy you or get you off how he did. You each had been with your fair share of sexual partners, but Yuta was the only one who ever made you see stars and the whole damn moon. When work got especially stressful, you always had urges, but you took care of yourself just fine. 

This was a far cry from just fine. This was mind-numbing pleasure that had you clinging onto his hair and whimpering his name over and over as if it was the only word you knew. As if he was the only thing you knew. 

“Yuta, I’m close,” you told him shakily. 

Yuta could tell, but hearing you say it made him push you off his mouth none too gently and onto the bed as he had wanted. When you whimpered in disapproval, Yuta playfully chided, “Don’t complain.”

Your core throbbed with need, but your eyes flitted between his handsome face and his beautiful v-line, wondering if you should’ve focused on how he licked your arousal from his lips or how hard he had gotten from getting you off as he shuffled out of his pants. 

Both. Both is good, you thought to yourself, licking your own lips. 

Once his clothes were off, Yuta knocked your thighs apart and gripped your jaw with one hand as he steered himself to your entrance with the other, growling, “Look at me.”

You did as told. You would steal a soul in a heartbeat for him if he so bade you. His dark eyes were staring into yours, watching your contorting face as he began to take you. And you watched him, tightening at the way his mouth hung open. 

Yuta noticed your eyes wincing closed as he filled you inch by inch and when he was fully seated inside you, he slackened his grip on your jaw in favor of your hair. “Keep your eyes open,” he told you assertively. “I don’t want you to miss a fucking second.”

You whimpered, but obliged him. Your eyes were tempted to water at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock again and it didn’t take long for him to stretch you out. 

“Good girl,” Yuta said, smashing his lips against yours. It was the only time you were allowed to close your eyes and you did so immediately, kissing him like it was the last time. 

Yuta started to move, pressing himself in and out of your slick pussy with ease. You were so fucking wet and it was making him lose his mind. Your body took him back with every deep thrust, accepting him, little wet squelches echoing off the bedroom walls as his hips smacked into yours at a quick yet steady pace. 

You were in a different world. With Yuta’s weight dangling on top of you, you couldn’t help but fondly remember all the times you had been here before, all the times you had surrendered your body to him for him to do as he pleased. You were another person with Yuta. Someone free and wild and reckless. 

For a long time, you thought that version of you was dead and buried. But here she was, eating her heart out for him, ready to kill for him if he so asked.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned almost at the top of your lungs, grabbing Yuta’s shoulders to anchor yourself, as if you were afraid of sinking too far without him. 

Yuta lowered his head to your chest and began to cover every inch of your naked breasts with love marks that eventually would fade a dark color. They stung vaguely, but Yuta knew you were a sucker for pain and he was more than happy to give it to you. 

You didn’t feel human anymore. Rather, you felt like two feral and ravenous animals in a back and forth game of trying to intimidate and tame one another, clinging onto your survival instincts like they were all you had left. You would never back down, but you would never give chase either. You just kept taking turns circling each other in the wild. 

Yuta wanted to deny the hold you still had on him, but the second he felt the way you throbbed and tightened around his cock, he knew he would forever be a slave to his feelings for you. He continued fucking you at this pace, nice and hard, deep and fast. “Fuck,” he groaned. 

You yanked his hair and pulled him onto you, stringing your legs around his hips to keep him close as you kissed him endlessly, never wanting to cease your hold on his body that burned with sweat and insatiable hunger. Kissing it better again. You wanted to be sore when he was done with you, to feel the leftover ache of him in your very bones. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Yuta grumbled when your lips separated, almost as if he was upset about it. You had enticed him like a siren, lured him to a death he would die a million times for another night with you. 

You weakly shook your head, but grinned at the compliment. “That’s all you,” you whispered, slowly trailing your fingers down his back. 

Yuta could see it in your eyes that you were right there, on the edge he’d dragged you almost over, but not close enough to let you slip. This time he would give it to you. He wanted to make you come on his cock, pulsing with climax. Sex was power to him. He loved being in control of your pleasure, knowing that it was entirely dependent upon him. 

You didn’t even have to tell him you were close. Yuta got a hold of your throat and limited your air flow, craning his head to whisper in your ear, “Come, baby. Come all over my cock.”

It was almost instantaneous. In a matter of seconds you were crash-landing from the atmosphere and slowly grounding yourself back into the hard rough dirt. You suddenly shuddered with orgasm, clasping his hair in your hands and sharply crying out his name. 

Yuta chuckled, knowing that would happen. In a weird way, it was comforting to know that all his old tricks still worked on you, that he still knew your body as if it was his own. “That’s my girl,” he sang with satisfaction. 

You had barely recovered from your climax when Yuta pulled out and flipped you over, then buried himself some inches deep inside you again all within a blink. “Oh my god,” you stammered, tangling your hands in the silk sheets and thick blankets. 

His hips moved quicker than ever, roughly fucking you into the mattress while he chased relief, and you loved every second of it. There would never be a time where you wouldn’t be happy in allowing Yuta to use your body as a means of getting off. 

Yuta smacked your ass and the sound of your soft whimpers made his dick twitch with excitement. He willed himself to pull out of you and finished himself with his hand, a stripe of his cum landing on your back as he groaned deliciously in climax. 

“Stay still,” Yuta said after taking a pause to catch his breath, pulling his pants back up to his hips and meandering towards the bathroom. 

Not that you had any intention of moving as much as an inch. He had literally fucked the will to do anything out of you. You were going to lay right there on his bed where you had fallen limp until further notice. 

Yuta returned with a damp cloth to wipe his release off your back. His shirt was still on the floor and he didn’t seem like he was eager to put it back on. You staggered to the bathroom to clean yourself and the moment you came back you collapsed on the mattress. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered, getting comfortable on the opposite side of the bed. 

Yuta switched off the lamp on his nightstand and did the same, heart still trembling with the afterhighs of what you had done together. Or maybe it was out of affection. “Goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to drift off. You were sated, and it was all the relaxation needed to put you to sleep. 

When you woke up in the morning, admittedly somewhat later than normal, Yuta was no longer perched on your side. Your heart throbbed a little with ache, but you ignored it. This was Yuta Nakamoto, for fuck’s sake. You should have expected less.

You found your shorts and slipped them back on, more or less limping out of his bedroom to the kitchen where you figured Yuta would be hiding. And you were right. There he was with his morning coffee. He looked right at you for half a second, but said nothing.

Fine, asshole. If you won’t, then I will, you huffed to yourself, tenacious. “Good morning,” you said to him, leaning onto the counter. 

“Morning,” Yuta replied quietly. 

“Is something wrong?” you asked. You had trouble believing that was all he had to give after the night you’d shared together. 

“Hm?”

You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance, but you both knew what you were getting at and you were trying to play your cards accordingly. “I just feel like you’re keeping yourself from me.”

Yuta played dumb. For now. “What makes you say that?” 

You stifled a groan of frustration. His passive aggressive behavior was starting to get on your nerves. You would take direct confrontation over this if it meant he would stop hiding his heart from you. You knew he had something to say to you, which only made this all the more unbearable. 

“You know why,” you replied, snappier. “You’re acting like nothing has happened.”

Yuta sipped from his coffee, barely a single thing off in his composure. “Am I?”

You studied him, looking for a defect in his perfectly crafted demeanor, some hint or clue as to his genuine emotions. You didn’t buy his indifference. “Yes, you are. Is there something you want to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Yuta retorted, continuing this back and forth game. The game of survival. “It meant nothing. You looked like you needed it. I was just lending a helping hand.”

You didn’t want to believe him, because that would mean you were alone in the memories, in the thoughts of what you had together once upon a time, so close to a happy ever after. “You seem to be really into helping me, for whatever reason,” you mumbled, suspicious. 

The doubtful undertones in your voice weren't lost on Yuta. He knew you were trying to figure him out and check him for ulterior motives. “Is that a crime, miss undercover?”

You groaned exasperatedly. “God’s sake, Yuta. Just spit it out. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Yuta lied, rinsing his cup out in the sink and placing it gently into the cabinets before stepping out. 

You exhaled loudly. He had no reason to be this goddamn difficult when he was perfectly capable of speaking about his feelings like a normal human. Like hell you were going to put up with his insufferable bullshit. Did he expect you to be some kind of fucking mind reader? 

Five minutes later, almost the very second you had set your mind on following and confronting him, Yuta whirled back into the kitchen, hissing, “Why didn’t you look for me?”

Your eyes flickered with shock. “What?”

Yuta was too fed up to tolerate you playing dumb. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was firm as ever. “Don’t play dumb. You let me fade away. You never looked. Why?”

The anger disappeared from your body for a second, and guilt swept over in its place. “I thought you were dead.”

Yuta shook his head, unaccepting. “That’s not good enough. Your boss is more than likely dead, but you’re still risking your life to find him.”

You stayed quiet, unsure of yourself. Why didn’t you look? Were you leaping at the opportunity to undo the damage you’d caused by eating the forbidden fruit?

“Did I ever mean anything to you? Anything at all, dear?” Yuta pressed, approaching you like he was trying to intimidate you. To make you fear him. “Or was I a pawn in your perpetual pursuit of justice?”

In any other circumstances, you would have been amused by how poetic he sounded, in spite of how sharp his voice was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. “Yuta, you were never a pawn. You were so much more.”

Yuta grabbed your hair, but he didn’t yank. He simply held it firmly in his hands and tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you use me?”

“We used each other,” you whispered. 

“No, no, no, dear,” Yuta sang almost sweetly. “You did all the using. You got what you wanted from me and left me for dead. That’s the cold hard truth, isn’t it?”

“You know it’s not,” you said, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. 

Yuta snapped, “Then, what is?”

You were rooted in memory, traveling back in time three years. The last dance. The underground fighting gang in Japan you’d hunted like prey and chance met Yuta. The same gang had killed one of his own and he planned on exacting his revenge. In his own way, he had also been undercover.

The case was essentially over and it wouldn’t have been possible without Yuta’s help. After a typical long night of your bodies meeting, you had woken up one day to him gingerly prying himself out of your arms, whispering apologies for waking you and something about how he was going to head over to the fight club. 

You didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw him. The opposite. You smiled in his burly arms as he veered down and gave you one final kiss of affection, daydreaming of how you would keep your illicit affair a secret from the law and betray your oath. 

The next thing you knew, you were receiving a call about how the entire fight club had burned to a crisp. With a handsome number of people in it. Your heart thundered in your chest and you waited all day for Yuta to return, but when morning came and he still didn’t show, you assumed he never would. 

But duty still called. You successfully carried out an operation that culminated in an ungodly number of convictions. You got your glory and fame. And only after mourning him for months did you slap on a brave face and pretend Yuta never meant anything to you. 

“You want to know the truth?” you asked, fighting tears as your temper rose. You had things to get off your chest too. “The truth is that I mourned a loss that never happened and when I saw you standing there, perfectly fucking fine, I thought I saw a ghost. Now you’re punishing me for grieving you and I can’t take that shit.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the victim. We both know that if you wanted to look for me, you would have. You didn’t. Your work is all that ever mattered. It still is.”

That cut deep. Is that really what he thought of you, after all this time? That you only cared about money and power?

You stepped away from him, recoiling. “That hurts, you know.”

“The truth tends to do that sometimes.”

You shook your head in disbelief and laughed hollowly. “Is this seriously all you can bring yourself to say? After I thought you were dead for three years?”

Yuta shot back, “And I thought you didn’t care about me for three years. Who has it worse?”

Running your hand through your hair, you sighed exasperatedly and asked him, “Does it have to be a fucking competition?”

“Yes.”

This was more complicated than any case you had ever solved. It was impossible to wrap your head around in spite of how desperately you longed to make sense of this. “Why are you faulting me for this?” you asked, paralyzing. “You could have come to me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your work,” Yuta said, a hint of something rueful in his voice, but it was gone in a flicker. 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Stop doing this. Stop making it seem like everything you do is for my sake. Like you never had bad intentions.”

Yuta simmered with frustration. Was it genuinely so hard to believe that he cared about you? You were everything he ever wanted and everything he never had.

“Oh, I had intentions,” Yuta replied with a chuckle. “I had intentions of whisking you away and taking you across the world with me. Intentions of showing you off to my friends and doing everything I could to see you smile. But you had me fooled, baby. You manipulated me.”

You shook your head vigorously. “I did not!” 

“You did,” Yuta hissed. “I have to commend you, sweetheart. It’s not often someone tricks me the way you did. You really were something else.”

The tension in the room was becoming too much even for someone as strong as yourself and you crumbled underneath the surface, loudly confessing, “I couldn’t do it!”

Yuta paused, caught off guard. He had been slowly pushing you to the edge, but he wasn’t expecting you to break. “You couldn’t do what?” he asked. 

You inhaled a few deep breaths, knowing you were on the verge of tears and not wanting to sob in front of him. “I couldn’t move into your world and out of mine, over and over. I wanted to, but I knew the guilt would eat me alive. It had to be one or the other. And when you died, or when I thought you did, I mean, I thought the universe had made the choice for me.”

That only made things worse. You had essentially just admitted you were never going to allow yourself to be with him, dead or alive. “Is that why you never looked?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, outstretching your hand to grab his, but he wouldn’t let you.

Yuta bristled. He loved you more than anything, but right now, he hated your guts. “You’re not sorry. You made your choice.”

And you were regretting it more and more by the second, wondering how you could account for lost time. “A choice I don’t resonate with anymore.”

Yuta had no sympathy. “That’s too bad. The damage has already been done. So just double down and bleed me dry like you always have, and we can both move the fuck on.”

The gears were starting to turn in your head, quicker and quicker. “That’s what this is about?” you asked, everything finally starting to click. “You want to see if I’ll take advantage of you?”

Yuta crept closer, running his fingers over your cheek almost with affection. Your body caved instantaneously, but your mind couldn’t fall for it. “I want to see exactly how far you’re willing to go to help your boss. The things you’ll do, the lies you’ll tell. The truths you’ll bury. I want to see you for what you really are.”

You were sick and tired of him acting as if he knew everything and snapped, “What am I then? Please enlighten me.”

“The death of me,” Yuta replied, seconds before closing the tiny gap between your bodies and kissing you. No matter how greatly he despised you, the weight of his desire would always overpower. 

Your lips moved in fearless sync as you kissed each other breathless, as if you were in a competition to see who would suck the life out of the other first. But until one of you died, you traced your hands along any bare skin you could set your fingers on and held onto each other’s bodies, keeping yourselves close.  

At least when you were like this, the odds evened out. You made Yuta insane with your body and he made you arch into his hot touches. You breathed a little less when he touched you and he died a little more when you pushed him to his high’s end. Then you brought him back to life and took his soul all over again. There was no losing or winning here. Only life or death. 

Without warning, Yuta gripped your hips and hoisted you onto the counter. You gasped, clasping his shoulders. He stole your shorts from underneath you and yanked them down your ankles, tossing them into the deep end, and stuck a hand between your legs to feel your arousal growing around his fingers, a deep, guttural sound springing from the back of his throat when he felt how wet you were from his kisses.

“Yuta,” you called out, running your hands down his chest from his shoulders. “Fuck me.”

“No.” 

You gawked. The next thing you knew, he had one hand around your throat and the other pressing a knife against it. “You don’t get to be the boss of me anymore. You lost that privilege. You don’t get to control me,” he said, cold as stone. “You don’t get to act like I’m yours.”

The knife flush against your neck did nothing to unnerve you. None of your survival instincts were on edge. Your muscles weren’t tense. Your breath was mostly level. You asked coyly, “Aren’t you?”

Yuta clenched his jaw. You were right and he knew it. He was completely and thoroughly owned by you - mind, body, and soul. And heart. No matter what lengths he went to deny it, you were his salvation. In beautiful life and in sweet death. 

“No. You have to earn it,” he told you, quiet but fierce. 

For the time being, you played submissive. You already knew he was eating from the palm of your hand, all yours. There was nothing left to secure, but you wanted to appease him. “How can I earn it?”

Yuta stamped the knife harder against your throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still and pliant. “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

You thought back to all those little memories, swimming around in the deep end of your mind. There weren’t many times you’d whispered the three word confession into his ears, but that made it all the more special. You remembered all of them. Walking through those secluded streets of your dropsite, hand in hand. Shielding your face in his chest as he fucked you within an inch of your life. Waking up in his arms the morning after. 

When you had sex last night, it took everything in you not to say you loved him. Your heart broke itself with the effort. “Yes. I would draw blood for you.” 

That still wasn’t enough. Yuta knew you could be ruthless if pushed. He wanted to know where your love for him started and ended. And truth be told, he didn’t want it to end. He wanted it to overflow. “Would you die for me?” he pressed.

You exhaled, “In a heartbeat.”

That was the right answer. Yuta briefly forewent the knife and slackened his grip on your throat, unfastening his pants just enough to take out his stiffening cock. You gripped it in your hands and pumped him fully hard in no time at all. With a painfully hard cock, needy and aching for you, Yuta gently brushed your hands away and slowly coaxed himself inside. 

You gripped the bottom edge of the counter when he was finally rooted inside to the hilt. Yuta began to move and when he found a comfortable, hard pace, his hand leapt for his knife again, dragging it against your skin. 

Yuta had ample opportunity to hurt you, time after countless time. Yet he never had any more than you’d asked for. You could be staring death squarely in the eye and not an inch of you would paralyze with fear as long as Yuta was there to hold you tight.

You liked to pretend you were fearless, but Yuta made you feel like you really were. I can do anything as long as I have him. He’s my strength and my empire. The whole world doesn’t stand a chance against us. And we’ll burn it to ashes for trying. 

“I…,” Yuta started, his breath distant and faint. “Would die a million deaths for you.”

These kinds of confessions stopped startling you a long time ago. Yuta was intense and deep, and passionate. When he loved, he loved till the last minute. “I would bring you back every time,” you told him, shuddering. 

“What if you couldn’t?”

“Then I’ll follow you to hell close behind,” you whispered, clasping onto his forearms. You wanted to hold him until kingdom come, and you had every intention of doing so. 

Yuta was conflicted. The result of you tearing his heart in more than two pieces. Part of him wanted to resent you forever, to tell you to fuck off and stop toying with his imperfect feelings. Another was ready to stain the walls in blood, not yours, if it came to keeping you close. And the other accepted that you were the only woman in the world who could manipulate him, but chose not to. 

It wasn’t just the sex that made him weak, but it sure did help. You were tightening around him like a noose, taking his cock like a champ as you had done countless times in the past, and Yuta wanted to reward you for it in any way you wished. If you asked for the universe, he could pull a few strings. 

“You’re mine,” Yuta said possessively, teasing the knife down every available inch of your bare flesh. He was wholeheartedly obsessed with you and he would continue to be for as long as he breathed. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“You’re mine,” you taunted in between soft moans, attempting to hide the flutter of your heart. “And I’m yours.”

Yuta was burning alive with his own passion, scalding from the inside out. “Fuck,” he grunted, tossing the knife into the sink. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“I know,” you whispered. 

“You own me.”

“I know that too.”

“You wanna know what you don’t know?” Yuta asked through pants, but he wasn’t stopping. Not until you were both surely sated. “Not a second went by where I didn’t think of you. Of what you were doing and who you belonged to.”

Well, I know now, you thought to yourself, but the admission drove you mad. You couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts kept him up at night in your wake. Did he picture your face whenever he got hard? Did he pretend he was inside you when he fucked his fist until he came?

“I’ve always belonged to you,” you told him sincerely. You wanted to kiss him again, but you held back for now. 

Another groan sprung from the pit of his throat and he put a tightening grip on your throat. “Say it again.”

Your legs wrapped around him, wanting him more in spite of the lack of blood flow. Wanting him deeper. “I belong to you. And only you, Yuta,” you rasped. 

The way you said his name had him reeling. With how you reacted to every graze of his fingers, light or rough, Yuta knew there was a throbbing void in you being filled at last now that he was in your possession once more. It was the same dark and empty void in him. “I hate you,” he hissed, slapping his hips into you harder. “For making me love you when you never cared about me.”

You had been taken aback by his words, but eased a little with relief when he finished his statement. Only a little. “That’s a lie.”

“Admit it. Admit you never cared,” Yuta barked. His grip on your throat was harsher and he had another calloused hand winding your hair around his fingers.  

You couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true. “I was wrong,” you choked out instead, face tensing in a heavenly blend of pain and pleasure. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Yuta.”

Yuta all but stilled when he heard you say those words. Finally a fucking apology. And now he was going to make you beg. Or better yet, he was going to see if you meant it. 

You gasped loudly when Yuta abruptly pulled out of you and hauled you off the counter into his burly arms, carrying you to the living room. You clung to him tightly the entire time, although you knew Yuta would never let you fall. He sat you on the couch, sitting beside you to your right, and pulled you onto him. “Prove it.”

Yuta watched you grip his cock and steer him to your entrance without hesitation. Like it was routine. You made a high-pitched noise when he penetrated you again and clawed at his chest and shoulders for purchase, prepared to give him every ounce of your strength and vigor. 

You watched his face contorting with ecstasy, not minding the way your nails dug into him. Yuta had always been the bigger pain freak. Your legs still ached with the passion of him and they would even more when you were finished with him, but you didn’t care. You rode him to hell and back. 

“Fuck. Holy fuck,” Yuta swore, watching you bounce on top of him with a vengeance. He should have known that when he told you to prove it, you would take that as a challenge. He cursed your name between expletives. “Slow down.”

You smiled contentedly, proud of yourself for ruining him to the bare bone. This was a man that prided himself on power and control, so snatching it from underneath him surely gave you an ego boost. “You wimping out on me, babe?”

Yuta mumbled something under his breath. More dirty words, certainly. He wanted to fight it, yet he couldn’t help but surrender. “No.”

“Then, take it,” you hissed, grabbing his jaw gently and stealing his lips in a hot kiss. Yuta’s fingers bruised your hips as your lips met with a reverberating wet sound.  

Yuta looked dizzy from lust and pleasure, and passion when you pulled away from his lips in favor of his neck, sucking and nipping at the raw empty flesh. His breath went faint as you left your mark. He was moaning like a bitch underneath you, overwhelmed by your mouth on his skin and his cock in your warmth. 

It was taking a toll on him, making him shake and bite his swollen, bleeding lip. “Stop. I’m gonna come, baby,” he said breathlessly. 

“Come inside me,” you told him softly, riding him even harder. You wanted to finish him. 

Yuta’s throat went dry at your words and he couldn’t stop the indescribably erotic noise that escaped him. He had fucked you raw more than once, but he had never been allowed to fuck you full of his cum. Now you were handing him the privilege on a silver platter and he was about to come on the spot like a virgin.

Your hips smacked down against him, brutal and quick. Yuta couldn’t help but thrust up into you, matching your movements with the intention of finishing you and himself. You were bruising and breaking beneath his rough hands, but it didn’t matter. He would seam you back together. 

It quickly became more than he could handle and Yuta came with a groan of your name plus an additional slew of curses, his body writhing from the hot sensations. His eyes went wide when you kept riding him at this rough and hard pace, chasing your own climax. 

You hummed, satisfied. That’s it, baby. You might not want to say it to my face, but your body has never lied. You are just as owned by me as I am by you. You are bound to me by a ball and chain. 

Not far behind him, you shuddered with orgasm from the constant pounding of his cock against your sweet spot driving you over the edge. Yuta could feel you throbbing and pulsing around him and it drew him another deep noise from him. You went slack, draping your arms over his shoulders, and felt his cum leak from your cunt. 

You weren’t in any hurry to move. Yuta was as close as humanly possible, every inch of himself buried inside your pussy, and you wanted to keep him there indefinitely. You tilted his jaw, watching his cute face. “Are you tired?” you asked softly. 

Yuta scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe you were asking him that. Though you knew he always had more to give you. “We just fucked for an hour.”

“What are you talking about? We spent most of the past hour arguing.”

“That was foreplay.”

You burst into laughter. That was a very Yuta-esque answer. “For you, maybe,” you murmured. 

Yuta arched his brow. “Oh, really now? Then please explain why you were so wet by the time I’d only kissed you. Riddle me that, beautiful.”

“There’s a simple explanation,” you said, in spite of knowing you had none. None too inclined to admit it to him, you opted to kiss him again instead, still holding onto his jaw the entire time. 

Yuta let you get away with it just this once, hands roaming your back underneath your shirt. It was still damp with sweat and the thought of licking away every last drop with his tongue made Yuta stifle a groan. Most likely for the best. The sound would have made you clamp around him if you heard it. 

And you would’ve fucked him all day long if you could, but duty called and though the state of your relationship with Yuta was mending, you still had other problems to solve. 

After a makeout session that lasted way longer than intended, you both begrudgingly retreated to your separate rooms. You had work to do, and Yuta needed time to think about what you meant to him. 

You were surprised to receive a call from the station a few hours later, recognizing the number though it was unsaved. Figuring it was probably about the names Yuta had given you, you answered the phone. “Hello?”

“I’ve got news,” came Ten’s voice. You knew from his grim tone that it was nothing good. 

You sighed. “The bad kind, I’m assuming.”

“We identified a body today on the side of the highway. It’s Kun.”

You were silent for a long moment. No words would come. You weren’t surprised he was dead, but the fact that you couldn’t deny it anymore stung. 

Ten knew you were hurting, but he continued, “He was mostly bones. He’s been dead for months. And before you ask how we know it’s him, he died in uniform. His badge says his name.”

“Any idea what the cause of death is?” you forced yourself to ask. 

“Forensics are running tests right now, but we’re pretty confident it was a gunshot wound,” Ten told you softly. “He had a single one to the head. He didn’t suffer.”

“How nice of them,” you replied, but your voice was armed with pained sarcasm. It didn’t make sense. Why kill a man and release his body three months after the fact? 

“I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I have something else to tell you,” Ten said, quiet as a mouse. 

You swallowed your darkness and listened. No matter what, it was paramount that you found the bastard who did this. And, if given the chance, ripped their head off. “Yes?”

Ten’s voice was soft, as if he was telling you a secret of some foul nature. “There was a witness description that matched one of the guys I saw you ran through the database last night. But he’s been locked up for a couple of days. There’s no way it’s him.”

You hummed in confusion. “That’s suspicious as hell. Who gave the witness description?”

“Some random truck driver,” Ten replied, obviously none too convinced. “We’ve tried interviewing him about it, but he insists that’s who he saw and that he’s not being bought or coerced in any way into giving false statements.”

You didn’t buy it. Not even for one second. It was literally impossible for someone who was currently in custody to have dropped off a body on the side of the highway. And if he had a solid alibi, there was clearly someplace else you needed to look. “He’s lying like hell. And he’s likely being intimidated. The question is, who has that kind of power?”

Ten took a wild guess. “A gang.”

You glanced in the direction of Yuta’s bedroom, as if you were trying to signal him through the wall. You had believed him when he said that the Reapers didn’t kill cops, but a situation like this required the influence akin to the kind a gang would have. “That’s true, but I think we can rule out the Reapers.”

“You have an informant?” You could hear the confusion in Ten’s voice. 

I have something much better, you said solely to yourself. “Something like that, yes. I think we’re looking in the wrong place. Or maybe there’s a part of the picture we’re missing.”

Ten hummed, clearly deep in thought. “What about the Brotherhood?”

“What about them?”

“I know these two gangs have conflicts about their drug territories and the like. Kun was investigating the Reapers’ involvement in a few drug deals gone south, but we know now that it was the Brotherhood’s mark.”

That was a valid point. The instance was one of many crimes Kun had been looking into, but it could have been his unlucky ticket to death. He had investigated crimes involving the Reapers and promptly went missing, which turned you to the same gang. Though as it turned out, it was the Brotherhood’s responsibility. 

What if this whole time, you had been looking into the wrong criminal empire?

“That… changes a lot of things,” you replied, connecting the dots in your head. 

“I have to go, but remember it’s just a hunch. Don’t get unmotivated. Keep looking,” Ten said encouragingly. “Someone will check in with you tomorrow as usual.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you murmured. 

Before you could hang up, Ten called out your name one last time and added, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you reassured him, not wanting him to worry too hard. You knew the loss of one prominent member of your team put additional stress upon the safety of the others. And with that, you bid each other goodbye. 

Yuta had a few errands to run the next day and as protocol decreed, you had to tag along with him. Nothing too dramatic. You imagined that with the gang’s current focus being on determining the next course of action to take against their rival, Yuta was more useful here rather than going from country to country eliminating threats.

His job was much like yours in that regard. Your former one, at least. You bounced from place to place, no one location being too safe, taking on new identities in foreign cities. In the middle of almost losing sense of who you were, all in exchange for recognition and praise, Yuta had been the one to sweep you off your feet and help you remember. 

That was why it hurt so much when he was gone. You lost him, and you lost yourself. He had reminded you how beautiful love was, how liberating it was to not think of the aftermath of missions. With every heartless criminal you locked away, another piece of your soul chipped away too. 

Yuta had made you realize that you weren’t broken. You were still whole and you still had a soul. And you knew, because you had bore it to him. 

You snapped out of your memories when you heard the car door click open and quickly close beside you. Yuta handed you a dark sheath, made of leather. “This is for you,” he said quietly. “If you still use them, that is.”

“I still use them,” you told him with a nod, unsuccessfully ignoring the way your chest flooded with warmth. He remembered. 

“Good,” Yuta said, fastening his seat belt around his waist. “And by the way, we’re not going home like I thought we were. I just got a call. We’re having an impromptu meeting.”

You stifled a groan, none too eager to sit around outside while the higher-ups had private discussions behind a glass door. But you said nothing as Yuta pulled out of the parking lot. 

Though as you followed him through the building to the designated door on the far end of the hallway, you complained, “I just don’t understand what you guys are talking about that you didn’t get done in the past two meetings this week.”

“This is important. And besides, I don’t make the rules, baby,” Yuta replied, totally amused but hiding it with a poker face. “He does.”

The man in question was already patiently sitting at the head of the table with a poker face that could kill if he tried hard enough. Lee Taeyong, you recognized. The leader. 

His second-in-command was right beside him and with Yuta being third, he didn’t hesitate to snag a seat directly across from Johnny. The only thing that surprised you was Yuta dragging you inside, seating you squarely beside him in a chair of your own. 

It wasn’t long until the room filled with enough high-ranks to make anyone nervous and after doing a mental headcount, you quickly realized all eight of them had come.

Taeyong seemed to be doing the same count and once he counted an adequate number of heads, excluding yours, he spoke up loudly. “Yuta, was it necessary to bring her?”

“Yes,” Yuta chirped without explanation. 

“Alright, then,” Taeyong said swiftly, commanding total attention with the tone of his voice alone. “Now that we’re all here, firstly I wanted to apologize for calling last minute. I realize you are all busy with your respective responsibilities. But in light of recent events, I want to extend our incognito another week.”

Haechan nodded in approval. He was the head of their prostitution business. “Good idea. The ladies are scared shitless. They don’t wanna work and I’ll raise hell if anything happens to them.”

“This is slowing down our income,” Doyoung chimed in, disgruntled. Likely thing for the guy in charge of money laundering to say. “We can’t make money if we’re all hiding. We need to fight fire with fire.”

“We've been trading hits back and forth. What more do you want?” Johnny asked. 

Doyoung shrugged. “We need to do something that will make them realize we’re not to be fucked with. Right now, they think they have the upper hand.”

Yuta shook his head. “No, they don’t. This all started because of drugs. It’s common knowledge that we own the market around here. If they weren’t intimidated, they wouldn’t have made any moves.”

“Then what do you suggest, Nakamoto?”

“I agree that we need to blow all their heads clean off,” Yuta replied like it was the most normal response ever. “But for the right reasons.”

Jaemin was the hacker and he didn’t exactly understand why he was here. Or why they were arguing. “I don’t really think it matters what the reason is. We need to stop them willingly or by force.”

Yangyang groaned. He was the one directly over the gang’s entire drug trafficking operation and you could imagine he was none too pleased. “Our drug operation is our most lucrative branch and they’re not touching that. We’re fine.”

Haechan insisted, “My ladies still need to work. And I’m not letting them until it’s safe for them to do so.”

Doyoung half-agreed, “The ladies need to work so we can make as much money as possible. This incognito is only hindering us.”

“My guys are dying,” Jaehyun announced. “If we lift the incognito, imagine how many more of us will be dead.”

Taeyong exhaled a sigh, rubbing his temple. You resisted a laugh. They were stressing each other out when every last one of their problems could be solved if the Brotherhood was removed from the picture. 

Noticing his boss’ exhaustion, Johnny changed the topic. “The incognito aside, we’re still not fine. I’ve been hearing that the police chief who was investigating us and disappeared before we could pay him off was found dead. Now it looks like we’ve got cop blood on our hands.”

Yuta deadpanned, “Exactly what we needed.”

You tried not to stiffen as Johnny mentioned your boss. Then you thought deeply about his words and reflected on the phone call you had with your co-worker last night, and your blood went cold. You mentally chastised yourself for not thinking of it before. 

Yuta raised his brow at you when he felt you attempting to subtly capture his attention. You mouthed, “Outside.”

You stood up abruptly and he excused himself, following behind you.

 When you were both on the opposite side of the door, you asked, “What exactly happens when you collectively sign off on decisions?”

Yuta was taken aback by your question, but gave an honest response. “The eight of us gather around, much like right now, and try to make a unanimous vote.”

“I’m assuming that doesn’t happen often?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yuta replied, tempted to chuckle. “What’s this all about, baby?”

Now completely certain they had nothing to do with it, you took a deep breath, revealing, “I don’t know why it’s just now hitting me, but I think you’re being framed.”

Yuta didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure?”

You slowly wound a hand through your hair. “I don’t know, but all the evidence points to this gang. Not just the fact that you were the last thing my boss investigated before he died. As it turns out, one of the cases he was looking into was the Brotherhood’s work. When he was found dead yesterday, we got a witness description identical to one of the guys you gave me.”

Yuta furrowed his brow. “You’ve lost me.”

“Yuta, that guy has been in jail for three days now.”

You watched the shock color his face in real time. “Who in the hell gave the witness description?”

“It was a truck driver,” you told him, remembering the conversation you had over the phone. “He was obviously lying and my co-worker and I think he’s either being paid or pressured. But we thought about who would have that kind of sway over someone.”

“A fucking gang,” Yuta finished for you, bristling with frustration. His hand was on his head, attempting to think this over. 

You felt guilty somehow. Like you should have known this was coming. 

The second Yuta turned to the door, prepared to come armed with news that would surely anger his co-workers to no end, you both heard gunshots echo out from downstairs. Instinctively, Yuta pulled you into his arms without a care, glancing around. “What the hell?”

You shuddered, words suddenly resounding in your memory, and chided yourself for being too stupid to not comprehend them until it was too late. Everybody knows the best time to strike is when they’re all together.

They were all together. 

“They’re coming,” you whispered.

“Do you have the knife I gave you?” Yuta asked, borderline frantic. You had never seen him so worried. 

You nodded wordlessly. 

“Thank god. We gotta go,” Yuta replied swiftly, not wasting a breath to get a hold of your arm and lead you down the hallway. You heard his co-workers barreling out the conference room from behind. 

You let Yuta steer you away, trusting him wholeheartedly. He knew this building better than you did, and better than his opponents did. That was his advantage. 

Moving door through door with you in his arms, Yuta clasped onto your body like the thought of letting you go would send a shiver down his spine, gentle enough to cause you no pain yet firm enough to keep you exactly where he wanted. You both remembered what happened the last time you were separated. 

The thought made you shudder. Second turning into minutes, minutes turning into hours as you’d waited for him to come back. For a goddamn phone call. Something. Anything that would indicate he was still alive. 

Like he could sense your prevailing thoughts, Yuta stopped you, glancing both ways like a child crossing the street, and whispered, “Listen to me, baby. I’m right here. Okay?”

“I know,” you replied, quiet as a mouse. Your natural instincts were flaring up and your whole body was tempted to paralyze with fear, but none for you. Only for him. 

“We’re going to make it out of here. I know we will.”

You believed him, but for safe measure, you grabbed his face in your palms and pressed your lips against his feverishly. Yuta kissed you back without restraint, his hold on your smaller frame tightening more with every passing moment. It felt like seconds until it was over and though you wanted more, you knew you had to settle. 

When he heard a noise emerging from a none too distant hall, Yuta reached for your hand and continued to drag you towards the closest exit he knew. You did your best to keep up with his hurried steps, almost tripping over your own legs every step of the way. 

Even more gunshots echoed against the walls, too close for comfort, and rather than potentially rush into something dangerous, Yuta caged you behind him as you hid on the opposite side of the closest available corner. You were able to cock your head just long enough to see a figure dressed in all black, their head cloaked in a beastlike mask. 

Brothers. 

There were masculine wails and screams everywhere. You recognized the sound of death and chaos when it touched your ears, and it made you cling to Yuta harder. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not it was the blood of his gang members or his rivals staining the walls. 

“They’ve got this bitch surrounded,” Yuta murmured irritably under his breath.

That wasn’t reassuring at all. “Then what’s the plan? If we can’t leave, then what are we gonna do?”

You could see a flicker of something dark flicker in Yuta’s eyes, followed by something like resignation, and you knew what it meant instantly. “We have to fight.”

Fight didn’t startle you. Your hand immediately went for its weapon. Flight was officially off the table. 

This was a full-blown war. 

Yuta poked his head around the corner. When the coast was clear, he took you down another corridor, a touch darker than the others. You recognized the hallway and knew you were close to the rear side of the building. 

You didn’t see it. Not until it was too late. And by the time you heard it, there was already a brawny pair of arms wound viciously around Yuta’s neck, yanking him back with force. He dropped his weapon, reaching up behind him out of instinct, and endeavored to pry his attacker’s bloody, calloused hands off. 

“Yuta!” you called out. You didn’t hesitate to go after him, but another person snuck up behind you and put your wrists in a vice-like grip behind your back, dragging you off into another room as you desperately tried to writhe out their arms. 

The last thing you heard was Yuta shouting for you before the door slammed closed in your face. 

Your body tensed with the anger of a heartbroken woman at being separated once more from your lover, who you knew would move mountains to see you again - or die trying. And you would never, ever let that happen. 

In the split second of freedom you had while the faceless enemy locked the door, you snatched the blade Yuta had given you from its sheath and sprung into action, landing an unexpected attack in the back of his head. Over and over.

You were just about to drag the man’s fallen body out of the way enough that you could sidestep towards the door when you heard another one open from behind you. You jolted for your weapon, spinning on your heels. 

A person came out. This one had a face. And you recognized him. 

Jeno raised his hands in innocence. “It’s just me.”

“Get. The fuck. Back,” you hissed, holding your blade to announce that you were armed and very much dangerous. 

Realizing you didn’t trust him, Jeno switched on a dime. “You finally figured it out, huh? How clever of you.”

You knew Jeno wasn’t who you thought he was the second you finally pieced together the true meaning of his words. “Who are you?” you forced yourself to ask. 

Jeno shrugged, smirking to himself as if something was funny. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a brother.”

“I know that, but where do you fall in their hierarchy? Who do you take orders from?”

Jeno scoffed, his evil little smirk widening in unwavering amusement. “Take orders?” he repeated, incredulous. “Babe, I’m the one who calls the shoots.”

You stilled for all but a second. You were staring into the eyes of a gang leader who was conniving enough to infiltrate the ranks of his rival. There was no way in hell he was easily backing down from a challenge. 

The glaringly obvious shock on your face made him laugh out loud. “That’s right. I’m the leader. You look surprised.” 

You sneered, “You son of a bitch.”

If not anything else, Jeno looked proud of himself. He was so damn smug. “Don’t play innocent, beautiful. You’re not exactly a saint either. I doubt Taeyong knows there’s a cop mingling in his affairs, and his trusted third-in-command is just allowing it to happen under his nose.”

How in the hell did he know you were undercover? You had to assume everything he knew about you right now was equally as dangerous and lethal as his potential. 

Your eyes narrowed. Your body was twitching with unadulterated anger and twitching to do something deadly. “Did you kill Kun?”

“Nah. Well, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, I mean.”

That didn’t make it any better. He was the one calling the shots, after all. He said so himself. “But you consented to his abduction and murder. Why?”

Jeno played with the edge of a blade of his own. He sounded thoroughly bored as explained, “He was getting too close for comfort. Looking for the Reapers was inadvertently bringing him closer to us, and we couldn’t just give him a two for one combo. It was nothing personal, you know.”

You shook your head. Then you slammed on brakes. “How do you know about Yuta and I?”

His mocking tone wasn’t lost on you as he teased, “I think you’ve lost your touch, spy. My guys wanted to take you out, you know. They were certain you were a threat and you would figure us out.”

So he not only knew that you were affiliated with the police force, but the covert agency too. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeno snorted. “Surely you remember Yokohama. I’m realizing it’s very easy to pin things on other gangs. You swept in to investigate their activities and lover boy came along to figure out who was killing off his buyers.”

This was unforgivable. The entire time Jeno had this much dirt on you and your personal life and discreetly used you to expand his illegal crime syndicate at the expense of another, and another. And you had no idea. 

“You recycle all of the same shit,” you pointed out, seething inside out. 

“Maybe,” Jeno replied carelessly. “But you know what they say. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

You shook your head. “So that day the three of us were together. It was all fake. You killed your own men?”

“They served their purpose,” Jeno said darkly, lifting his blade. “And you’ve served yours.” 

Your entire body stiffened with alarm when you heard someone attempt to push open the door closest to you. Stepping inside after kicking away the corpse of the man you’d fatally stabbed, Jaemin came in armed with a gun. And you were to assume it was fully loaded. 

This shocked you less than Jeno’s betrayal did, if you could even call it that. He wasn’t some guy you’d trusted. He was some guy you’d underestimated. “Of course you’re involved too,” you murmured, positioning the sharp blade in front of yourself. 

“Of course,” Jaemin repeated with a sly little laugh. “Who do you think cleans up his mess?”

Jeno didn’t bother to roll his eyes as you would usually expect from him, going with it. “And I’ve made a big one.”

You knew what that meant. They wanted to exterminate you like some troublesome little pest in their happy home. 

As if to confirm your suspicions, Jaemin smiled menacingly and crooned, “You have to go, sweetheart. You know too much now.”

Your heart was racing. Even you seemed to accept that you were overwhelmed and outnumbered. You knew that with one wrong move Jaemin wouldn’t hesitate to empty his chamber into your head, but for once, you had no idea how to get out of this. You just knew that you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Yuta entered your mind again and wouldn’t leave. You couldn’t hear his voice anymore, but you hadn’t heard any more gunshots either. Rather than resign yourself to defeat, you were going to assume he was still alive until proven otherwise. 

“Wait!” you shouted when you saw Jaemin cock his gun, obviously ready to paint the walls with your brains. “Where’s Yuta?”

Jaemin shrugged his shoulders. His smile was ominous. “Your little boy toy? No clue. He’s probably bleeding out somewhere, princess. I think he might be dead.”

“Not yet.” 

The three of your heads snapped in the same direction when you heard that familiar voice. Relief flooded your veins when you saw Yuta standing in the entrance of the door, having snuck up unheard. 

Before Jaemin could even get the opportunity to fire his weapon, Yuta raised and cocked his own, and a loud clap rang out in the air just before you watched Jaemin fly backwards from the impact of the piercing hole in his gut. 

And to your surprise, Yuta didn’t immediately kill him. He had his reasons. Rather than stick around to give a message, Yuta hurriedly reached for your arm and tugged you out the door. You could see in Jeno’s dark eyes when you took one final glance at him that he wanted to give chase, but saving a life was more important. 

You used all your strength and speed to keep up with Yuta’s steps, his fingers intertwined with yours as you paced wordlessly through the seemingly endless corridor. The two of you ran and ran until you had descended at least two more floors, wanting to ensure there was a safe gap between you and your enemies. 

Like hell Yuta was going to let you get shot a second time. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Yuta said frantically when you were in the clear, running his hands over your cheeks. “Are you hurt? Did they touch you?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t lay a finger on me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine as long as you are,” Yuta told you, relief washing over his face. You had lost each other once and neither of you were keen on suffering that hell ever again. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your heart speeding quicker than you knew it ever could. This was nothing like that first time you thought you lost him. Fear struck you tenfold. “I told you I would die for you.”

“If you ever risk your life for me, I’ll die right after you,” Yuta told you, more grave and serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re not leaving me. Ever.”

And you didn’t leave him. As soon as two weeks later, you were in a hotel in Osaka after dark, tangled in silk sheets after a long night of making love to each other. Yuta made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make up for lost time, and you both mutually agreed there was no better way than doing all of the things you’d always wanted to do together. 

He wanted to whisk you away on romantic trips and show you to all his favorite places in his hometown, and you were slowly making your way down the lengthy list. You wanted an oasis away from the dark reality of the world, to lose yourself in a world that only consisted of you and the man you loved. 

You missed nights in Japan. The country never slept. Neither did your heart and your feelings for Yuta.

Ironically, he was fast asleep when you received a call from a familiar number. 

“I know I’m not supposed to contact you anymore,” Mark started without greeting. 

You snickered, wondering where this was going. You were still under the sheets right beside Yuta, knowing he would immediately stir if you even attempted to sneak out of the comfortable bed. “And yet you’re calling me anyways.”

“I have a good reason,” Mark replied reassuringly. “So you know how you got shot?”

“I think I may remember getting shot in the stomach, yes. I'm not too sure.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you imagined Mark was playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, that guy who shot you - Levi Clark - he disappeared from prison.”

You gawked, but tried to keep your voice to a murmur. “What?”

“Yeah. And he was found dead two hours later. Like, really dead. I saw the photos. It’s ugly.”

You glanced at the man sleeping beside you with extreme suspicion, but told Mark levelly, “Thanks for informing me.”

Mark sounded chipper. “No problem. And if you ever need anything, I’ve got you.”

You broke into a wide smile at those words. Though you knew it would only do everyone involved no good to continue contacting your former co-workers. “Take care of yourself, Mark,” you whispered softly. 

“You too,” were Mark’s last words before he hung up, letting you resume your new life. 

You placed your phone down and crossed your arms, knowing something was very off in this picture. “Yuta?” you called out. 

“Hm?”

So he wasn’t asleep. You crossed your arms tighter. You suspected as much. “I know what you did.”

Yuta’s voice was groggy. “Which thing did I do?”

“You know the one.”

A small sliver of a smile tugged at his lips. “You would die for me. I would kill for you. We’re even, dear.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a few kisses to Yuta’s devilishly handsome face, not mad about it. His hands snaked around your waist and you sighed contentedly. “I guess we are.”

[dxddykenn]

I apologize in advance if this isn’t well written. I’m fairly new to writing and wanted to get this idea out of my head after watching The Strangers lol. This most likely will be done in two parts. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions - Naiya🤍

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Michael B. Jordan as Erik “Stranger 1”

Aaron Pierre as Terry “Stranger 2”

Method Man as Damon “Stranger 3”

Home. A place that is your sanctuary. Somewhere you can escape from all the problems of the outside world. A place that provides you with a feeling of warmth and a sense of safety. What happens when it isn’t?

It was a late Friday night, the crisp Autumn air blew the fallen leaves along the ground. Freshly showered and skin moisturized you were on the couch catching up on your latest reality show obsession. As you were getting up to refill your wine glass, a loud thud sounded throughout the house. Your movements stilled, waiting to hear the noise again.

*Thump Thump Thump* the noise sounded again coming from the front door.

You glanced up at the clock hung in the living room ‘11:45pm’… strange, you aren’t aware of anyone planning to stop by. Walking to the door you peek through the curtain of the sidelite. You were met with complete darkness aside from the light shining faintly from the driveway.

Opening the door you’re startled by a man standing just below where the porch light normally would shine down. He was dressed in a jacket, dark pants and boots, but you were unable to see his face.

“Can I help you?” you ask him.

“Is…Y/n home”. A chill runs through your body. “I’m sorry?” you question.

“Is…Y/n home” he repeats.

You look at him curiously “Who are you?” you ask.

In return he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he walks off towards the end of your driveway. Puzzled you reach up for your porch light, noticing that the bulb was slightly unscrewed. Tightening the bulb, you close the door behind you, wondering who the man was and where he came from.

Currently, you were in Georgia where you owned a vacation home that sat on a few acres of land. You were 24 years old studying to become an Optometrist. Between the never ending hours of studying, classes and life in general, you decided that you needed a mental break. Planning to stay for a few weeks you packed up and headed to Georgia. Only a very few people knew that you were leaving, which you preferred, allowing you to disconnect from reality for a little while.

Walking back towards the kitchen, you stop to set your alarm system “Better safe than sorry” you whisper to yourself.

Hours go by and you feel yourself slowly nodding off. Another episode of Reasonable Doubt playing in the background as your eyes grow heavier and heavier. Eventually you fall asleep, unbeknownst to the masked man standing behind the couch.

Three knocks jolt you awake. The man silently walking away, disappearing in the house.

Looking up at the clock again, it’s now 2 am. Getting up you cautiously walk to the front door. Peeking through the curtain of the sidelite you’re met with darkness again.

“What the fuck?” you say to yourself.

Quickly you disarm the alarm and snatch open the front door. Instantly your heart dropped, it was like the events from earlier were replaying all over. There the man was again. Still unable to see his face. Standing in the same spot as before. And the porch light out.

“Sir can I help?” you ask.

This time you notice the roughness of his voice as he repeats the same question “Is…Y/n home?”.

“Why do you keep asking that?!“ you snap.

Once again he just turns away and walks off. Slamming the door you rush back to the couch in search of your phone. Once in hand, you’re suddenly surrounded in absolute darkness.

“You can’t be serious”

Fumbling with your phone you turn on the flashlight, as your heart started to race. Slowly you walk towards the power box. It was located in a closet down the hallway just off of the kitchen. The light from your phone casting shadows along the wall as you moved. Your hand was out in front of you to ensure you didn’t knock into anything. Normally getting to the closet would have taken a few seconds but turned into minutes in your state of panic. Your hand grazes the doorknob rattling lowly. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you grip the knob.

“Finally” you say as you open the door.

As you direct the light into the closet it hits something. Frowning, you steady your hold on the phone so you could see clearly. The light lands on a pair of boots. Moving up it falls on a pair of dark pants, next a jacket. As the light goes up further it lands on a straw face you jump in fear, when you finally realize it was a scarecrow.

“Y/n get a hold of yourself” you chuckle as you run a hand down your face. Clicking the switches, the lights in the house turn back on. Turning off the flashlight, you close the door turning to walk back down the hall when you smack into something. Stumbling back you grab onto the wall steadying yourself.

“What the-” you mutter.

Inch by inch you look up. The boots. The pants. The jacket. Looking all the way up, you lock eyes with the man from earlier. A burlap sack with two eye holes and a simple smile drawn onto it now covered his head.

A sharp, piercing scream leaves your mouth as you trip over your feet, knocking over a table in the hall. Frantically you run as fast as you could, trying to get to the front door. Snatching it open you’re met with another man. This one wearing a dusty black suit, a doll face mask covered his face and a knife in hand. You staggered back as tears well in your eyes.

“No…No!” you scream as you run towards the garage.

You only make it a few steps when you encounter another man. Towering over you he looked at you wearing a skull mask. A long sleeved flannel shirt and overalls covered his body, carrying an axe.

It felt as if the world just stopped. There were now three men in your house. There was no where to run, no where to hide. You didn’t know where to go or how to get away.

Backing up you go to run when you were grabbed from behind. Instantly you start to kick and scream when you feel a prick in your neck, your vision slowly fading to black.

Groaning, your head feels heavy and your body sore as you wake up. Blinking your eyes you're in a room illuminated by a red light. As you try to move you, you notice that you were suspended off the ground, bound by your arms and legs. That's when you notice three sets of shoes in front of you. Glancing up all three men were standing in front of you, masks still on their faces.

Your body starts to tremble in fear.

The air felt thick and that time was stuck as they just watched you. Breathing. Not saying a word. Just standing there.

All you could do was cry, not understanding why this was happening to you. “Why are you doing this!” you scream out, your voice shaking. The man standing in the middle of the other two slowly leaned towards you. Your eyes locking onto his, he mutters “Because you were home”.

As if on queue all three remove their masks, your breath catching in your throat. All three were breath taking. It didn’t make sense, what did they want?

“I’m Terry” the man wearing the burlap sack introduced himself. “This is Damon” he points to the man who was wearing the dusty suit. “And he’s Erik” he points to the man to the right wearing the flannel shirt.

Confusion was written all over your face as you just stared at them. Damon and Erik chuckle.

“Don’t worry we don’t want to hurt you Y/n” he strokes your cheek. You jerk your face away causing him to chuckle, gripping your throat bringing you back to face him.

“If I were you I would listen” Erik chimes in.

Terry rubs his finger along your bottom lip before speaking “We have a long night ahead of us. You’re going to listen and do what we say if you want to make it to the morning” he smirks before roughly letting you go.

What were you going to do?

[psychhound]

i ran a combat this weekend that went really well and one of my npcs got beat to shit but also got to revivify a pc and it was just really chewy and cinematic and not that she isnt always on my mind but shes been on my mind a lot more this week BUT

ive been reflecting a lot on her year in the game so far, and the reasons i made her gender conforming but visibly trans when i introduced her, versus how thats evolved with her relationships to the pcs and other npcs now

and i dont know. it makes me really emotional. i think theres no right way to do trans representation but there are certainly some wrong ways. i think making her the first binary trans woman introduced and also pretty clockable would rub a lot of people the wrong way. shes tall, shes buff, she has a deeper voice, she doesnt cover her adams apple. and as a trans man who passes pretty damn easily it means so much to me that she Doesnt and shes so like ... adored? and cherished?

she was introduced as a roadblock for the party and got adopted very quickly, soon becoming a staple of the game. my players are obsessed with her and adore her and talk about her all the time. anytime she does anything theyre like okay but shes our babygirl and we love her forever and also can we marry her. shes an autistic trans lesbian wolfgirl, and her being trans is a lore point because shes the angel of the female wolf god. shes dopey, shes awkward, shes a little stupid, shes very caring, she makes the puppy eyes emoji face just at all times

and shes not visibly gay but is visibly trans. shes not punk. she doesnt have a shaved head or tattoos. overall shes pretty cottagecore and has middle school girl handwriting. she really loves baking and sewing is her most "fun" hobby. shes very gender conforming and also its pretty easy to tell shes trans and everyone just. loves her? two pcs are very parental towards her, we're leaning towards a romance with another pc. despite being a big strong knight, when shes scared, she gets comforted and consoled. she got hurt during the fight and cried about it and got hugged

i dont know. this is a very long rambly post but. living in a very conservative bible belt state, i feel a lot of acceptance as a man and i feel its very very conditional on the average person not knowing im trans. my friends are great and my cohort is largely great and my professors have been supportive. dating has been,, mixed. but then i do wonder how review bombed i would get if my students knew. i wonder how much of how well people treat me is dependent on me appearing to be something im not

and florence cant hide that shes trans!! and people love her!! they think shes wonderful and loveable and hot and adoptable and also complicated when conflict happens. theres no reveal theres no coming out its just like. yep heres florence shes trans shes dorky and sweet and cute. because of the magic of this world, some people may have Questions of how she transitioned, but its not like ... her identity ever gets questioned. you know? its not hidden and also not a problem. its just florence. and shes been such a good character for me to play because of that

okay post over go support your local trans doggirl

[lemoniiiiiii]

lacking trust

(ralph bohner x gn!reader) in where you try to cheer up your paranoid boyfriend with a gift...

content: angst, swearing, yelling, mentions of being naked

a/n: i have so many ideas for ralph it's insane i love this man... but anyways i was hoping the gif would show what i mean when i say he blinks and twitches lmao. and uhm the context is that reader was not around when the whole hex stuff happened

--

"ralph baby?" you enter the living room, placing your things down by the couch. "how was it? what did they ask?"

"it was just some kids... askin' about what it was like..." approaching him from behind, you massage ralph's shoulders, trying to ease the obvious distress in his expression.

"...just when i was praying for them to not ask about.. her, they did. like they read my mind or somethin...'"

your boyfriend reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. "at least i got something outta it..." he mumbles.

"any migraines lately?"

"this morning yeah, but it's about gone now"

throwing your arms around ralph, you lean down give him an affectionate squeeze from behind before pulling away. "well, i got you a present.."

"yeah?" his head turns to follow you.

"i know you said you were missing your blu-ray collection... and so..."

"holy shit-"

once ralph sees the DVD storage case in your arms, he excitedly grabs it out of your hands and flips through it like a kid on christmas day. you haven't seen him smile like this in so long...

then he pauses.

he pauses and he looks up at you, eyes glazed with fear.

"you went back to the house." he says, voice menacingly monotone and low.

"i- i did."

"do you know what you've done?"

"ralph-"

he stands up, grabbing a spray bottle out of his pocket, dousing you in spritz' of the rose water toner you use in your skincare routine witch repellent.

"ralph what the actual fuck!?"

he mutters to himself, looking down in thought. "this won't be enough." his gaze returns to you. "did she touch you?"

"i- well-" you stammer, still disoriented by his previous actions.

"well what? what did she do?"

"we shook hands-" you admit. ralph groans loudly and holds his head like he's heard the most devastating information. frantically you try to reassure him. "ralph she's never met me before- agatha has no reason to come looking for you. wanda's gone."

"don't say- DON'T SAY THEIR FUCKING NAMES!" the veins in his face show themselves, prominent, like they're about to burst.

feeling defensive, you scoff. "this is insane ralph! this isn't normal you're being crazy!"

"do you know what it's like to have your mind mentally fucked by two exponentially more mentally fucked women?! to be forced to do awful shit, hurt people, and not be able to do anything about it? it's not good! not fucking fun! so i'm sorry if I've been just a little crazy... i'm trying to protect us"

"i understand baby but what i'm trying to say is-"

"take off your clothes" he suddenly blurts out.

"excuse me?"

"we need to burn them. make sure she didn't get any of her witch filth on you. then you should take a shower...and wash that hand real good" he blinks a few times and twitches his head, making you frown. you've noticed that it gets worse when he gets worked up and the new quirk seems to irritate him.

"i need to wash up too..." he adds eyes wandering, rubbing his neck where you were massaging him. "can never be too sure..."

when you see the expectant look on his face, you raise an eyebrow.

"right here?"

ralph twitches and stares at you blankly, grabbing a trash bag, motioning it towards you as if to say "go on".

too tired to protest you comply and undress, taking off your jacket, jeans, and top, leaving you just in your undergarments.

you wait for his next instructions but he simply continues to give you that same expectant look.

"i don't think i need to-"

"can never be too sure" he repeats.

with a sigh, you remove the two thin fabric pieces leaving your body bare in front of him. a part of you feels a bit humiliated, and you wonder if this is how similar to how he felt under wanda's hex.

"thank you." ralph exhales. "i know what i'm asking seems extreme- i know. but the last thing i would want is for you to have to go through what i did. see- look-"

ralph undresses in front of you in the same manner. it had been months since either of you had last seen each other naked, so freely like this. you take in your boyfriend's current appearance. he had grown out his hair and beard to "disguise" himself from who knows what and his toned body had now softened with some small but noticeable pudge on his stomach (likely due to a lack of having a bowflex plus his daily physical activity being reduced to pacing around the house at odd hours). not to mention the dark and deep eyebags.

he looks different and he's gotten some new... personality traits, that's for sure, but you still loved him the same.

and you knew he did too.

--

ralph holds your (non-contaminated) hand and smirks, rubbing the back with his thumb. "maybe we should shower together. y'know save water, i could make sure you get allllll the right places when you're cleanin' up"

you roll your eyes at his perverted proposal and smile.

things would get better. you were certain.

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx

[foggysroom]

Where is Foggy?

.The most important question.

It's curious and disappointing when someone says they hate Foggy in Matt's name or that Foggy is whiny. Some of these "fans" dared to complain about this to Elden Henson himself, who wittily replied with a smile: "I didn't write the show. I'm just an actor."

I don't understand the hate. I think it's unfair to hate Foggy just because he was upset with Matt for a brief period.

But, imagine if your best friend, the person you love most in the world, kept hidden from you that he always knew every time you felt something. He knew when you were horny or unshowered, and pretended to believe you when you lied.

He knows all your embarrassing secrets, he knows when you suffered or cried in silence. You are clean and crystal clear glass for him. But never the opposite. He knew and never comforted you because it was an invasion of privacy, even though he knew what you were going through.

Suddenly, everything you experienced together became something to suspect if it was genuine or not.

There was nothing to forgive, though, because forgiving is an option for both parties.

But Foggy came back, and that act alone should be enough for the haters to think rationally.

Foggy remained by Matt's side, giving him water and medicine when Claire left. He only left when Matt got better.

Foggy rescued Matt when he was shot by Frank.

We don't know how, but my theory is that Foggy put Matt in his car and hurriedly drove to Matt's apartment. He worked alone on Frank's case, even when he didn't want to.

He took Matt the suit that saved him when Midland collapsed on him and Elektra. He protected Matt and Matt's secret identity there.

Even when Karen told Foggy not to forgive and take Matt back, he didn't take her advice, after all a friendship like theirs doesn't fall apart so easily.

I believe that characters like Foggy may not appeal to fans who are only interested in a show focused on violence, sex, fights, and gore. Personally, I don't mind those elements, but they are not what made me love the series. Arguments like "Karen being tough, badass, and Foggy being weak are likely to persist. Karen has a gun, but what does Foggy have? This is probably why Marvel favors her over Foggy." Only time will tell. However, I will always argue that they could replace Foggy in the series, but something essential would be missing. Matt - that Matt that Daredevil fans truly love and know - is only complete with Foggy by his side.

Elden, I mean, Foggy, in the series, represents the human, sensitive, and sincere aspect. As Charlie and the producers and directors wisely acknowledged, he is the heart of the show. This is unique and magical and cannot be taken away from him, even if others were to try.

Matt needs him as a friend, a source of support, a haven, and a voice of reason. Without Foggy, the series can still function, with all its guns, and blood, and sad Matt, but there will always be a void that only Foggy can fill.

[kybercrystals94]

Veiled Threats and Bloody Knuckles

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 16 - Prompts: Wound Cleaning // "No, I can't feel anything."

Rated: G | Words: 545

A/N: **throws fic into the World Wide Web abyss** All I can say is, at least I got something written today 😅

“Does it hurt?” Wrecker asks, watching Tech clean Hunter’s bloodied knuckles. 

Hunter grimaces, but he tries to pull it off as a grin. “No, I can’t even feel anything.”

Crosshair snorts. “You’re such a liar.” 

“If you truly did not feel anything, I would be concerned,” Tech puts in. When he sprays disinfectant over the broken skin, Hunter hisses and tries to pull his hand away, but Tech keeps a firm grip on Hunter’s wrist. “Please hold still.”

“I thought you couldn’t feel anything,” Crosshair mutters with a grin.

“Kriff off,” Hunter growls. 

“Which reg did you punch?” Wrecker asks. 

Hunter shrugs.

“Well, why’d you punch him?” 

“Not worth talking about,” Hunter says.

“Oh, so you just punched some random reg in the teeth for no reason,” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes. “If you’re going to keep lying, Hunter, at least make it convincing.” 

Hunter glares. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then tell us what happened.” 

“And then what?” Hunter asks, “You and Wrecker try to find these regs and pick a fight? No. Not happening.” 

Tech begins wrapping Hunter’s hand. “Perhaps we can come to a compromise. You tell us the circumstances, but not the parties involved.” 

“Why does it matter?” Hunter cries, “It doesn’t matter!” 

“Because whatever the issue was, it was worth being outnumbered and fighting back,” Tech replies simply, voice remaining level. “If it matters to you, it most certainly matters to us.”

Hunter takes a steadying breath. “I didn’t punch anyone. I punched a wall,” he bites out. “It was stupid.”

Shocked silence follows the confession, his brothers exchanging glances. 

Finally, Tech asks dryly, “And what did this wall do to offend you?” 

“It was because of the evaluation this morning,” Crosshair says. He leans forward. “What did those long necks say?” 

“What they always say,” Hunter mutters. “Veiled threats, letting me know without directly telling me that if we fail…there’s no point to us. We are experiments that can be thrown away as soon as we aren’t useful. I know they’re just trying to scare me into making sure I keep our records up, to make sure I push you guys in training and simulations. But I’m so kriffing tired of being objects to them.” 

“We might be objects to them,” Wrecker says, “but we know better.” 

“Wrecker is correct,” Tech says, adjusting his goggles. “Despite the Kaminoans best efforts, we are not exact copies of a desired product. We are individuals. It is a miraculous defect in what they perceived as a flawless design. Even the regs show variance. Whether they acknowledge it or not, it is a fact.” 

Hunter glares at the floor. “Facts don’t keep us from being decommissioned, Tech.” 

“No, but being the best does.” Crosshair stands up. “And we are the best, and we’ll keep being the best.” 

Wrecker laughs. “Yeah, we are! We’re the best squad Kamino has ever seen.” 

A grin tugs at the edge of Hunter’s lips. “Yeah, we are the best, aren’t we?” 

“That is also a fact,” Tech agrees. He takes Hunter’s injured hand, examining the white bandage already tinged pink with fresh blood. “Next time you forget that, may I recommend a punching bag as a viable alternative to a wall?” 

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

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[yunniica]

PLEASE ! Aespa & NCT stans. THOUSANDS of us would love if you participated in the boycott of sm entertainment !

Now i completely understand not wanting to, “my group worked hard on their album” “my group is doing well right now so no” is your reason right? & i get it. But guess what. There will be another soty, there will be another amazing album, there will be MORE memories to create with them, there will be another album/seasons greetings to buy. But there will ‼️NEVER‼️ be another massive boycott like this to participate in to change sm entertainment & to get our international voices heard.

Unless you are waiting for another idol to take their life (sm has the most idols who have committed suicide) or for it to be your fav being bullied out of a group. Because thats seriously the only other time we would have a massive boycott but why wait till an idol has committed or been harassed? Why not make a change now‼️

AESPA STANS! I know you love your girls & you should they work hard every time & literally devour their comebacks. I believe they would appreciate if you did participate. Look at karina, she should be allowed to DATE without being harassed whilst SM does NOTHING. we need to hold sm responsible for not protecting their idols. Knetz should not be the MANAGER of these girls or idols. SM should be, & SM should be the BEST manager they have!

NCT STANS! As a fellow nctzen i fucking love those guys so much & i know you do too (congrats to jaehyun for his drama debut ^^) but as a nctzen i know that SM has failed them a lot in certain areas & if we want them to flourish even MORE this boycott is going to help them SO much. Sm would be forced to promote their solo debuts BETTER. Plus they would be extremely disappointed in SM & would want justice especially for seunghan!

Now i ask you a final question, whats stopping you from making your voices heard & your favourite idols lives better?.. An album? Pfft ‼️If your local kpop store can boycott & lose money from it then im sure u can save that album for another time… Is that feeling to vote for them during events more important then your idols mental health & wellbeing ??

Cmon & join the BOYCOTT ‼️

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Redownloaded GFL because of your blog (also the main reason why I got into it in the first place) and I was surprised with all of the QOL changes they made.

My favorite so far is the non-critical auto repair after battles and it got me thinking how would the AR & DEFY girls react to an SO who scolds them when they return in critical condition but repairs them as tenderly and with as much care as possible despite their harsh demeanor. (Basically a tsundere SO who's worried sick but refuses to admit it)

Love your blog and I hope you're doing well. Thank you for continuously feeding my (and everyone else's) obsession with raifu's.

(GFL) AR Team and DEFY's S/O repairing them

AR Team: M4A1, M16A1, ST AR-15, M4 SOPMOD II, RO635 DEFY: AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, RPK-16

It has been too long since I have written the Raifus on the blog, time to rectify that. Also TSUNDERES WOOOOOO-

M4A1 winces from the light of S/O's blowtorch welding her metallic limbs back together.

Seeing it return to green status in her eyes, she simply sighs when S/O stands up, shifting their welding mask up in order to look at her.

Seeing S/O cross their arms, M4A1 already knows what they're about to say.

(M4A1) "S/O, I know I-"

(S/O) "Went overboard? Psh, that's never stopped you before."

M4A1's hands took a moment to readjust themselves as S/O examined one of her legs that was currently sitting on a nearby table, badly damaged.

(S/O) "It almost seems like what I request to you and the Commander just gets ignored deliberately. Do you think I can repair you all the time without any effort?-"

(M4A1) "S/O."

M4A1's arm that revealed her metallic frame grabbed S/O's hand, finally making them pause.

She gently tugged S/O toward her, and despite their angry expression, the tears forming in the corner of their eyes betrayed any lingering anger that may have been present.

And with her one arm that had the synthetic skin remain, gently wiped away S/O's tear.

(M4A1) "...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

(S/O) "...If you don't mean to do that, then just come home in one piece so I don't have to do this."

Their voice dropped to nearly a whisper, but she had no trouble hearing them clearly.

S/O let M4A1's hand linger on their face for a moment while they took a deep breath again, though this time much calmer than before.

(S/O) "Now stand still, I have to make sure your leg is properly patched up."

(M4A1) "Thank you, S/O."

S/O averted their gaze to grab her leg, though she knew the real reason they refused to meet her eyes, bringing a small but sad smile to her lips.

(S/O) "Don't thank me. I've yet to finish...And you're not walking out of here without my help, understood?"

(M4A1) "Hah, got it."

S/O grumbled under their breath as M16 sheepishly let her jacket drop.

Only to reveal an entire forearm missing.

(M16A1) "...For the record, that wasn't my fault."

(S/O) "Couldn't have grabbed the missing part?"

(M16A1) "It was uh...a little beyond recovering at that point."

(S/O) "You are going to be the death of me, Sixteen."

(M16A1) "Heh, come on! I'm making sure you get Griffin's paychec-"

(S/O) "By what, making sure I put you back together like goddamn Humpty Dumpty everytime you come back?!"

M16 flinched by S/O raising their voice, and only noticed now how tightly S/O was gripping onto her remaining hand.

Which also was damaged.

(S/O) "I get taking damage during a mission, it's unvavoidable, but 90% of the time, it is!"

(M16A1) "...S-S/O, I didn't mean to-"

(S/O) "Don't apologize. Just...Don't make me work so hard."

S/O gaze lingered on her missing limb, to which she responded by grabbing their hand and resting it near her eyepatch.

(M16A1) "Come on, can't have your skills going rusty, can I?"

Her tone was cheeky, but her volume was soft, letting S/O's fingers brush against her cheek before going to grab repair tools.

(S/O) "At this rate, I'm going to need a drink..."

(M16A1) "Heh, wanna share? It's on me."

(S/O) "...Then I'm grabbing the most expensive Jack Daniels they have."

And to that, M16's cocky attitude deflated.

(M16A1) "...Shoulda kept my mouth shut."

STAR rolled her arms the moment she felt the connection back online.

(ST AR-15) "Thanks, feeling much better now."

(S/O) "These parts aren't cheap, STAR.-"

Before she could retort, S/O pulled her wrist towards them, examining it with a scanner before nodding in satisfaction.

(S/O) "And contrary to how you think, your life isn't something to throw away either."

STAR opened her mouth but instead of any reply, only a sigh came out.

(S/O) "If you won't think of yourself, then at least think of me. I have to be the one making sure you're all good to go before you tear yourself apart again."

(ST AR-15) "...R-Right."

S/O shook their head as their hand shifted down into hers, holding it firmly.

(ST AR-15) "I don't plan on going anywhere, S/O."

(S/O) "Hm. Tell me that when you're not coming home to me in twenty pieces."

ST AR-15 wryly grinned at S/O, playfully kicking at them with a missing foot on her right leg, exposing both synthetic skin and the electrical bits inside.

(ST AR-15) "Twenty-one, actually."

S/O turned around to grab other tools, but STAR could tell they smiled at her joke.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "BOOOOOREEEED!"

SOPMOD aggressively wiggled her metallic stumps where her arms previously where, whining as she bobbed back and forth on the table.

S/O focused their attention on finishing the last of the repairs on her arms, with them sighing loudly.

(S/O) "SOPMOD, I told you before, I'm nearly done."

(M4 SOPMOD II) "You said that forever ago!-"

(S/O) "Three minutes-"

(M4 SOPMOD II) "FOREVER!"

S/O did their best to ignore her pouting as they finally completed the necessary adjustments, moving to reattach her arms.

(S/O) "You wouldn't have to wait like this if you just listened to RO, y'know."

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Bah! I wouldn't have been able to kick their asses if I hadn't!"

(S/O) "Plus, you're making me work harder than I have to."

She raised an eyebrow at S/O's words, a grin quickly growing.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Don't act like that you wouldn't be worried if you weren't the one doing my repairs!"

(S/O) "Please, I already have so much work piled up, I-"

SOPMOD yelped the moment a hiss came from her right arm reattaching, making S/O's heart drop as their eyes widened.

(S/O) "S-SOPMOD! Are you alright?!-"

And their worry was replaced with annoyance as SOPMOD's pained expression transformed into a cheeky smile, tapping S/O playfully on the nose with her claw-like finger.

(M4 SOPMOD II) "Gotcha!"

(RO635) sigh "You have my thanks and apologies, S/O."

S/O shook their head as they softly brushed RO's hair to her back, getting a closer look at the damage on her shoulders.

(S/O) "Hm. I know you avoid damage whenever you can. Just stay still."

Though their tone was cold, it didn't bother RO in the slightest.

She knew how they really felt.

(RO635) "Truthfully, I'm fine S/O. You don't need to worry too much-"

(S/O) "About the bullet that almost tore through your connections on this arm? On the contrary you're giving more reasons to worry."

(RO635) "A-Ah..."

RO's hands rested on her lap, with S/O's head near her neck.

Feeling her core thrum faster as she quickly examined her surroundings to make sure no one was looking, RO stole a quick peck, kissing the top of their head making S/O freeze.

(RO635) "...Sorry, bad time?"

(S/O) "Just...warn me next time before you snap me out of my focus."

12 hummed idly while S/O examined her hand, which was currently beside her, separated from her arm.

(S/O) "How in the world did this happen?"

(AK-12) "Well, you can't just sit on your thumbs all day without doing repair work! Just making sure you're not out of a job."

S/O rolled their eyes at her smug tone, but said nothing as they went about repairing it.

(S/O) "I do repairs everyday while I'm back here, thank you very much."

(AK-12) "Then you won't mind doing one more for your beloved, would you?~"

(S/O) "Isn't it your job to make sure you don't get that hurt?"

(AK-12) "My job is to fulfill whatever Angie tells us. Same for you, as far as I recall."

12's eyes opened slightly as her smile grew.

(AK-12) "And...I'm fairly sure you're not supposed to be treating me like a princess either. But no complaints from me.~"

S/O's cheeks darkened the moment they realized their position: kneeling in front of 12 while putting her hand back gently, which the hand promptly patted S/O's head.

Making their eye twitch as 12 laughed.

If 94 could bow in apology, she would.

However, she was currently laying on the table as multiple mechanical arms set about repairing the damages on her, with S/O standing next to her.

Several bullet wounds were inflicted on her, thankfully mostly superficial, but heavy duty equipment was required.

(S/O) "Good god, how did this even happen?"

(AN-94) "It was my negligence, my apologies S/O. I will have to be more alert."

S/O's hand reached to her lower back, moving her to sit upright as the arms whirred away to give them space.

(S/O) "You better. I don't want to have to do this everytime."

(AN-94) "The last thing I want to do is burden you."

(S/O) "Hey. I didn't say that-"

(AN-94) "But-"

S/O put a finger to her lips, making her blink as her eyes trailed to her lover, who was in the process of covering their mouth.

And failing to hide a blush.

(S/O) "I just...don't want to see you hurt, Ninety-Four."

(AN-94) "S/O"

(S/O) "I said please extend your arms. I have to do final inspection and see if I need any touch-ups."

(AN-94) "...Understood."

94 heard them clearly, but still didn't understand why S/O always seemed flustered saying these kinds of things.

15 stoically turned to S/O as they finished their repairs, allowing her to stand up properly, with S/O gently guiding her up.

She gave a single nod, slow and grateful.

(AK-15) "Thank you, S/O. Your repairs are efficient as always."

(S/O) "Can't have our strongest given to some shoddy engineer, after all."

She hummed in agreement, before taking a moment to bow.

(AK-15) "I apologize for having made the mistake of getting hurt to begin with."

Truthfully, 15 always took the worst of the damage, but that was because she was essentially a walking tank.

Hell, S/O was fairly positive 15 could actually beat the tank to death with her bare hands.

(S/O) "D-Damage is unavoidable. Don't apologize for it. As long as you always come back to me, it's fine."

A moment passed before S/O's eyes widened, in disbelief in what 15 got them to say out loud.

(AK-15) "Is something the matter? Your heartrate has spiked-"

(S/O) "N-Nothing! It's nothing!"

16 raised an eyebrow seeing how kindly S/O attended to her.

Not a moment ago they were chastising her for even taking damage, making S/O work so hard.

(RPK-16) "My, what happened to that foul attitude from earlier, S/O?"

(S/O) "What are you talking about?"

She giggled, tilting her head past the equipment to see S/O tending to her leg.

(RPK-16) "Do you perhaps find peace working on me after all? You don't seem nearly as upset now that I'm here-"

(S/O) "Psh, don't get it mixed up. I'm happy to get you fixed and out of the repair bay."

(RPK-16) "Aw, you do care!"

(S/O) "About my work-"

(RPK-16) "And, you're working on me."

S/O mumbled something, making RPK-16 laugh.

Humans were so prideful sometimes...

Well, all the time really.

[redvdress]

just saw one of your posts sayin you want to write about other characters :33

soo... ahem ! big suguru and yuta fan here... yea...

and about a promp? maybe he slowly realising how much you means to him on the moment you because of him. not by him, because of it

that was it! have a great day! xoxo

- blue 🫐

I LOST WHO I WAS

A/N: so sorry blue if this took me soo long but as i said it’s my first time ever writing about suguru and ehh i’m not even that proud of this and it became kinda angst while i wrote it (i’m an angst lover, don’t hate me!!). i hope you can enjoy it the same way blue!! warnings: angst ending

The rain came down hard, an unrelenting sheet that blurred the sharp edges of the world around Suguru Geto.

He stood motionless under the gray skies, his long black hair slick against his skin, the weight of his robes drenched with the storm. The temple grounds, where he had once stood proud and defiant, now felt empty. Silent, save for the steady rhythm of the downpour and the echo of distant screams. The Jujutsu world was chaotic, but that was nothing new.

What was new, however, was the unfamiliar ache deep in his chest, twisting with every thought of you.

You.

He hadn’t thought of you in days, perhaps weeks—time had blurred together ever since his final break from the Jujutsu society. His ideals, once noble, now festering into hatred. He had made his choices with confidence, believing that separating sorcerers from non-sorcerers was the only way to end the endless cycle of suffering. But in doing so, he had also distanced himself from everything that once tethered him to his humanity—including you.

Suguru exhaled, the mist of his breath barely visible in the cold air.

“You warned me, didn’t you?” he murmured to no one in particular, his voice drowned out by the rain. His hand flexed unconsciously at his side, muscles tightening with the memory of your voice.

He could almost hear you now, the way you had tried to reason with him before he fully committed to his path.

You had stood in front of him, eyes wide and brimming with emotion, trying so desperately to reach the part of him that was already slipping away.

Suguru had been sitting in that same temple when he first met you, years ago. You had been just another jujutsu sorcerer, assigned to work with him on a mission.

There was nothing remarkable about it at first, just another collaboration between sorcerers, but something about you—your smile, the way you carried yourself—left a mark on him, small yet undeniable.

At the time, he didn’t understand why.

He had never considered himself someone who needed companionship beyond his close circle of friends: Satoru, Shoko, and the others. But with you, it was different. You were persistent in your own quiet way. Always hovering near him after missions, with warm tea or a quiet word of praise, you broke down his walls without even trying.

“Geto-san, you seem tired” you had said to him once, smiling as you handed him a cup of tea after a particularly grueling exorcism.

He’d accepted the tea with a nod, hiding the strange flutter in his chest that came with your attention.

“You always seem to know,” he had muttered.

You had laughed softly, that warm sound that always managed to soothe the frustration in his soul. “It’s not hard to tell.”

Over time, those small interactions evolved. The distance between you shortened. He had let you in closer than he had ever let anyone, even before the disillusionment with the world fully consumed him. His emotions had always been measured, controlled, but with you, he had found himself slipping.

He would catch glimpses of you looking at him with concern, and even though he tried to hide it, your presence grounded him. Those moments when his world felt most chaotic, he would catch your hand, your fingers intertwining with his.

You never questioned him. You just knew.

“If you continue down this path… you’ll lose yourself. You’ll lose everything. And…”

“And what?” His voice had been harsh, biting, but he hadn’t shaken off your touch. Even then, a part of him couldn’t.

“And me” you whispered, the words fragile, like you already knew they were coming true.

His silence had been his answer.

He had already made his decision.

You had withdrawn your hand, and the void between you had grown in that moment, a chasm he hadn’t realized was unbridgeable until much later.

A memory hit him suddenly, sharp and clear.

Your lips against his, soft and tender, in the

cool night air.

He could remember the way his fingers slid into your hair, how your breath hitched when he kissed you for the first time.

That night, after a particularly difficult mission, you had both been sitting on the rooftop of a quiet building, overlooking the city.

The stars had been hidden behind clouds, and the distant sounds of Tokyo had filled the space between you.

Now, sitting alone in the temple, Suguru’s chest felt tight.

He hadn’t thought about that moment in a long time.

He had pushed it down, buried it beneath the weight of his mission.

The memory felt foreign to him, almost like it belonged to someone else—someone who hadn’t yet become the person he was now.

He was different now. His path was clear. Sorcerers were superior to humans, and the world needed to be rid of the weak.

But the thought of you lingered.

Suguru clenched his fists at his sides, he had believed back then that he was doing the right thing—believed it so completely that he had been willing to walk away from everything. From you.

But now, standing amidst the aftermath of one of his orchestrated attacks, with innocent lives caught in the crossfire, he couldn’t shake the feeling of regret that gnawed at the edges of his conviction.

Because it was you.

It had been you who had been hurt today.

Not by his hand, though.

He would never hurt you directly. But because of him. Because of the war he had started.

Word had reached him that you were caught up in the chaos, trying to protect some of the non-sorcerers that he had deemed expendable.

You had always been like that, hadn’t you? So stubborn in your belief that every life mattered. And now… now you were lying somewhere, wounded, perhaps worse, because of his actions.

His heart pounded in his chest as he turned toward the direction of the town, the weight of his decision dragging him down. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time—hadn’t felt the sting of loss, of fear.

The fear of losing someone important.

He thought he had cut all ties to such emotions, that he had severed the threads that connected him to that fragile part of his past. But you… you had always been different.

Before he knew it, his feet were moving, carrying him through the rain-soaked streets, past the ruins of the town that his curse users had laid waste to. His mind raced with every step, images of you flashing in his thoughts. How long had it been since he last saw you? Since he had let you walk away, thinking it was for the best?

When he found you, the sight of your broken body twisted something deep inside him.

You were breathing—barely—but the blood that stained your clothes told him everything. You were a sorcerer, but even you couldn’t stand against the sheer violence of the world he had unleashed.

Kneeling beside you, Suguru hesitated.

“Why…?” His voice was barely audible, thick with something he hadn’t felt in a long time—regret. “Why did you have to involve yourself?”

You blinked up at him, your vision blurred, but there was still that stubborn spark in your eyes.

“Because someone… has to care about the people you’re willing to throw away.”

Of course, you would say that.

Of course, you would still cling to the ideals he had long since abandoned.

“You’re a fool,” he whispered, though there was no malice in his tone. Only a deep, aching sadness.

“And you’re still lost, Suguru,” you replied, your voice weak, but steady. “You don’t have to be.”

The rain continued to pour down, but for the first time in what felt like years, Suguru’s resolve wavered.

As he looked down at you—broken and yet still so full of hope—he realized, too late, just how much you had meant to him. How much you still meant to him.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

He could fix this. He had to.

But before he could act, you placed your hand over his, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to save me. Not like this.”

His heart clenched because you were rejecting everything he had become. Everything he stood for.

And yet… the pain of that rejection was nothing compared to the pain of losing you.

“I never wanted this,” he said, his voice breaking for the first time, raw and exposed.

“I never wanted you to get hurt.”

You smiled faintly, a sad, knowing smile.

“I know. But it was always going to end this way, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The truth of your words hung heavy between you, undeniable.

He had chosen this path, and now, he was paying the price. And so were you.

For the first time in years, Suguru Geto—the cold, calculated sorcerer who had forsaken his humanity—felt something close to guilt. Regret. Love, buried under layers of anger and disillusionment, but still there, too late to matter.

“I thought…” he started to say, voice barely audible. “I thought I could keep you safe.”

His own words felt empty, meaningless.

What had he believed back then? That he could separate you from the destruction he was bound to cause? That he could keep his personal mission and you apart, as if they existed in different worlds?

How foolish.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though it was laced with agony rather than amusement.

His fingers tightened around yours, as if holding on would somehow change reality, as if it would pull you back from the abyss.

But the truth was unchangeable. You were gone. And it was his fault.

“You warned me,” he whispered again, this time louder, his voice trembling with the weight of it. “You knew what would happen if I kept going. You tried to tell me…”

But he had been too stubborn, too consumed by his ideals, by his need to change the world. In his pursuit of a new reality, he had ignored the one thing that truly mattered—the one person who had tried to ground him.

His vision blurred as tears he hadn’t realized were falling slipped down his cheeks, hot and bitter.

He had always prided himself on his strength, on his resolve, but now, he felt weak—broken. How had he let this happen? How had he let you slip through his fingers, even as you tried to save him from himself?

“I thought I could protect you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

What good was his mission, his ideals, if the person he cared about most had been destroyed because of it?

A memory hit him again, sharp and vivid.

That night on the rooftop, the taste of your lips still fresh in his mind.

You had pulled back from the kiss, eyes searching his face as if looking for something deeper, something he hadn’t been ready to admit at the time.

“Suguru, promise me something.”

He had raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t lose yourself to this…” Your voice had been soft, but there had been a seriousness in it, a gravity that had weighed heavy between you. “Whatever happens, don’t lose who you are. Don’t let this destroy you.”

He hadn’t known what to say then.

He had simply kissed you again, avoiding the question, avoiding the weight of your words. Now, looking back, he could see it for what it was: a warning, a plea. You had seen the darkness creeping into his soul, and you had tried, in your own way, to pull him back from the edge.

But he hadn’t listened.

“I’ve lost myself, haven’t I?” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking.

His hand slipped from yours, falling limply to his side. He stared down at you, his vision swimming with unshed tears.

“I lost who I was… the moment I let this happen.”

He had failed you.

And that failure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

[awkward-walking-potato]

maybe deadpool x reader where they don’t have a very good friendship in their life and wade finds them crying over it one day.? hurt comfort my beloved …

Cry Buddy

You never imagined that Deadpool, of all people, would be the one to find you in such a vulnerable state. You thought you’d have been able to keep it together, but some days, the weight of loneliness and the lack of meaningful friendships got to be too much. Today was one of those days.

You sat alone, your back against a wall in a quiet corner, tears streaming down your face as you tried to hold back sobs. You were supposed to be strong—at least, that’s what everyone always told you. But today, it was too much. The feeling of isolation, of not really having anyone to turn to, was suffocating.

And then, just when you thought you were alone, you heard a familiar voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the chimichangas. Are those tears? In this economy?"

You looked up to see Wade standing there, tilting his head as he stared down at you. His usual comedic bravado was still present, but there was a softness in his gaze, something that made you realize he wasn’t going to just crack jokes and leave.

You quickly tried to wipe your face, embarrassed that he had found you like this. "I’m fine, Wade."

"Uh-huh, yeah, I know what ‘fine’ looks like, and this... this isn’t it," he replied, squatting down in front of you. "You wanna talk about it? Or should I just sit here and make awkward conversation until you eventually tell me what’s going on?"

You managed a weak chuckle through your tears, which only seemed to encourage him.

"There it is! A little smile!" Wade grinned widely under his mask, leaning back on his heels. "But seriously, what’s going on? You don’t just cry for no reason. Trust me, I know all about crying—especially when no one’s around to hear it."

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything still pressing down on you. "I just... I don’t really have anyone, Wade. No real friends. People act like they care, but they don’t. I feel like I’m always the one left out, or like I’m never good enough for anyone to really stick around."

Wade was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so. Then, he moved to sit next to you, leaning his head back against the wall. "You know, people suck. Most of them, anyway. And friendships? They can be like eating a bad taco. Looks good at first, but by the end, you’re regretting every bite. Trust me, I get it."

You glanced over at him, surprised by how genuine he sounded.

"But," Wade continued, "I also know that sometimes, you meet someone who’s not like the others. Someone who’ll stick around, even when you’re not your best. Someone like... I don’t know, me?"

You let out a small laugh, though the tears were still threatening to spill over. "You’re not exactly the first person that comes to mind when I think ‘reliable friend,’ Wade."

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "I am shocked and appalled. I am a great friend! I may not always show up on time, or... ever... but when I do? Oh, I’m there for you, 100%."

There was a sincerity in his voice now, one that made your heart ache a little less. Wade wasn’t like everyone else, that much was clear. He was chaotic and unpredictable, but at the same time, you knew that he meant what he said.

"You know," he added, "if you ever feel like crying again, I can be your cry-buddy. We can cry together. I’ve got this beautiful monologue prepared for such occasions—guaranteed to make us both sob uncontrollably."

You wiped your eyes, smiling a little wider this time. "Thanks, Wade. I guess... I just didn’t expect you to care."

He shrugged, casually placing an arm around your shoulders. "Well, surprise! I do care. And if anyone else says you’re not good enough or leaves you hanging, I’ll just—" He mimed slicing with an imaginary sword. "Problem solved."

You leaned into him slightly, feeling some of the loneliness start to fade. "You don’t have to fight anyone for me, Wade."

"Who said anything about fighting? I’ll just give them a stern talking-to," he said with a wink. "But seriously, I’m here, okay? You’re not alone. And I’m not just saying that because you have great taste in chimichangas."

For the first time in a long time, you felt a little lighter, knowing that maybe—just maybe—you had found someone who truly cared.