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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 16

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos.

Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”

The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.

Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.

And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.

Dean was already calling you.

You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.

You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.

“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”

“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”

“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”

“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”

“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”

“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”

You smiled.

Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”

You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”

When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.

“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.

He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email.

“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.

Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”

“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.

“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”

You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.

So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.

You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.

You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.

You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.

His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.

You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.

Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.

There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”

It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.

“You’re at the office now?” John asked.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”

“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.

“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.

You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.

You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.

Damn, did the AC break or something?

You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.

And it hit you then. You were a witness.

You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.

“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.

How did he know it was me who brought the report?

By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.

You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.

“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.

Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.

“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”

That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.

“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”

“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

He swung the club at your head.

You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.

A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.

No, you weren’t done.

You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.)

He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.

As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.

The building was on fire.

For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.

So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.

You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.

The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else.

The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.

Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.

“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”

Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.

“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.

“What? How’d she find that out?”

“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.

Dean’s eyes widened.

And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.

“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.

“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”

Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.

“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”

Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.

“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”

“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…

Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.

There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.

“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.

Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”

Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.

“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.

“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”

Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”

And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.

“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.

“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.

“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.

Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.

“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.

You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.

You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.

“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”

“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.

She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”

She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.

A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.

You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.

“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.

“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.

Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.

You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.

Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.

But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.

“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”

You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.

“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”

“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”

“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”

He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”

“Can…ear m…”

“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.

You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.

“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.

Then you paced back and forth, trying to think of what to do. Should you leave your momentary shelter to go and find him, or would that just run the risk of him never finding you.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what to do.

God, I’m so fucking screwed…

You slumped against the wall and tried to stifle your coughing, all while you also tried (and failed) to form some kind of a plan.

Until the bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?!

The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.

“Fire Department!” he called out.

You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.

“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.

“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.

You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”

You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.

“You need it more right now,” he said.

You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.

“We gotta go!” he said.

“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”

“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.

“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.

Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.

“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.

Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.

He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.

There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.

Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.

You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.

You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.

“Don’t.”

Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.

She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.

“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.

They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”

Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.

After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.

“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.

Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”

He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.

“I want to see him,” you said.

Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”

You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.

“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.

She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.

The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.

At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.

“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.

Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.

Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.

“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.

Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.

You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.

Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.

“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?

Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.

Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.

You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”

Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.

Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.

Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.

Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.

The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.

Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.

“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.

“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.

“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.

“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”

John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.

“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.

Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.

He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.

Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”

Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.

“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”

“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”

“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”

“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”

Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.

“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”

Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.

“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”

By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.

Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.

His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”

“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.

“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”

He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.

Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.”

AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!

Next Time:

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

Keep Reading: PART 17

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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satsugacafe · 1 month ago

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𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

��❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Helloo, hellooo. How are you doing? Hope everything is good on your end. ❤️Can I request something with my husband Kisuke? The way you write for him is just...ahh, perfect. Some fluff or hurt to comfort. Maybe they want to marry and her family is against the idea so he proposes to leave everything behind and run away. Or after a particularly stressful period for the reader she just breaks down and Kisuke takes care of her. Honestly, anything you want, I'm just writing ideas that could catch your attention. I just like to read fics with Kisuke. Obviously, if you're inspired to write for him:) Thank you in advance! ☺️ – @hellaarknight

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I’m doing great btw, hope you’re doing well. I was torn between the options given, however, I was feeling for a bit of slight tension, so I picked the one with the marriage proposal. Hope you like it!

➳❥ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.7k

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: marriage proposal, parental disapproval, forced marriage under the guise of arranged marriage, engagement, talks of running away and abandoning family, kissing, internal conflict, slight angst, fluff, comfort at the end

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When your family disapproves of your relationship with Kisuke, he decides to take things up by wanting to start a private life with you. However, when things get flipped upside down, it results in your impending decision to run away with him.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

“Well that was close,” Kisuke grumbled as he adjusted his hat that matched his reiatsu cloaking garb. Quietly he strolled beside you, his free hand brushing against yours as you both navigated the secret pathway behind your parent’s estate, ensuring that the guards didn’t overhear or catch you two sneaking around.

Stifling a laugh, you pressed your lips into a line as you ducked under a low plum blossom branch before crossing the threshold of the back gate and stepping into the cool night’s air of the Rukongai 4th District. Glancing at him, his relaxed demeanour spoke greatly about the man who scaled the estate walls, evaded countless guards and slipped through every barrier your family had placed to keep you two apart.

“They’re getting more and more creative by the day,” Kisuke grumbled once more, breaking the silence and leaning into your warmth, his arm brushing against yours. “I almost thought they’d caught onto my tricks this time. Almost.”

“They’ve doubled the guard again, haven’t they?” You gave a muffled laugh, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful ambience of the chirping crickets.

“Tripled,” he corrected, glancing at you with that mischievous glint in his soft grey eyes. “They even brought in a few Kido experts. But I suppose they underestimated my ability to innovate.”

“Or your stubbornness,” you teased and bumped his shoulder, though your heart swelled at the efforts he underwent just to see you, knowing that the stakes were high.

“Perhaps. But it’s a stubbornness that serves a purpose,” He gave a soft chuckle, his footsteps falling in tune with yours, leaving behind a soundless crunch on the gravel as you walked away from the district and approached a nearby clearing. The path opened into a small grassy patch near a koi pond, the moonlight reflecting off the surface and casting a silvery glow over the scene. It served as a place where you and Kisuke could be yourselves without the fear of prying eyes. It was here that he had told you about his ambitions, his inventions, and his dreams. And it was here where you confined your deepest hopes, including ones that involved him.

As you both made yourself comfortable against a tree in the shadows, you lying between his legs as he braced his back against the bark, he held you close to his chest while you listened to the deep rumbling in his chest and his enigmatic heartbeat. His hands were perched on your back and head, rubbing the areas soothingly with his experimental and professional touch, lulling you into a state of calmness. You two talked about many things as the hours passed. From his latest projects to recent troubles arising in Seireitei, to his troublesome lieutenant and thoughts that were a constant bother on his mind for months.

Kisuke stopped talking for a moment, his voice trailing off once he started talking about his recent thoughts. His playful expression mellowed out into deep contemplation and his loose blond tresses added to the deep-in-thought look. He hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, prompting you to lift your head and meet his pondering appearance, searching for what he was attempting to say.

“You know I don’t do this often,” he began once he gathered himself, his voice was much softer and quieter, almost hesitant and afraid. “The serious, heartfelt stuff. But tonight, I need to.”

The shift in his tone made your heart lurch as Kisuke wasn’t one for the grand romantic gestures or flowery words, but when he spoke like this, it was impossible not to listen.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he continued, his hands pausing their motion as he finally looked down to meet your eyes. “About how hard it’s been, sneaking around, dodging your family’s schemes, and living these brief moments when we can actually be together.”

Nodding your head along with his words, your fingers traced his collarbones, feeling him shiver slightly, under your touch. “It’s not fair,” you whispered. “We shouldn’t have to live like this. I want to be able to hold your hand in public without my parents screaming that you’re not good enough.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” Kisuke’s gaze bore into yours, his grey eyes filled with determination that made your stomach flip. His arms slid from your head and back to wrap protectively and possessively around your waist. “And that’s why I’ve decided something.”

Without another word, he sat up straighter, pulling you to sit in his lap. His right hand dipped into his pocket, pulling out a pouch and silently producing a small, simple ring made of polished silver. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but it was perfect—just like him. You watched as he held the ring between his fingers and held it between the two of you, while his other hand reached out to cup your left hand. Carefully, he set the ring in your hand, letting the cool metal rest against your delicate skin.

“I want you to marry me,” he said steadily, but the raw emotions lay underneath. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what it takes. I know your family disapproves, and I know they’ll never make this easy for us. But I don’t care. I’ll fight for you every single day if that’s what it takes. Even if it means running away with you.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the sincerity of his words, tears prickled the corners of your eyes. This was Urahara Kisuke, the man who has never backed down from a challenge, the man who always found a way to make the impossible possible. And now, he was asking you to take a leap of faith with him.

“K-Kisuke?” you gasped, your voice trembling as you attempted to recon his proposal. “I…I don’t know what to say—I’m happy for sure. But, my family, they won’t…they would make things harder—it’s not that simple…”

“I know,” he softly stated, curling your fingers around the ring and keeping his hands on yours. “I’m not asking you to decide right this second, but I need you to know that I’m serious. I’ll wait as long as it takes, and when you’re ready, I’ll be there.”

The weight of his words stayed with you long after that night. You wanted to believe that a future with Kisuke was possible, but the thought of eloping and abandoning your family and everything you had ever known, was daunting. Still, the idea of a life with him—a life filled with laughter, adventure, and love—was too tempting to ignore. The ring he entrusted to you, was hidden in the same pouch he presented it in, and carried everywhere you went like a silent form of protection and your hidden love. You kept it out of sight from all the servants and your parents, nearly being caught on a few occasions, admiring it.

The days that followed were a blur of conflicted emotions as you replayed Kisuke’s proposal in your mind over and over again. For him to consider marrying you, was a no-game situation—he wasn’t the type to joke about marriage even when he ran from it in the earlies. You weren’t sure if you were brave enough to take the same risk Kisuke was willing to take. However, before you could come to a decision, after telling him to give you a week, your world was turned upside down.

Your parents discovered that you were still seeing Kisuke, and their immediate reaction was swift and severe. Arranging to marry you off to some higher class noble, someone they deemed more ‘suitable’ for you, and began the courtship promptly. For two weeks, you endured hellish meetings and forced conversations, all while wondering why Kisuke hadn’t shown up. As the days followed, he wasn’t showing up at your window. Had he decided that you weren’t worth the trouble after all? Was he discouraged by your lack of prompt response?

Standing under the plum blossoms one late evening while you fiddled with your engagement ring, you bit your lower lip to suppress your tears and the growing tightness in your throat. You didn’t want to appear weak or desperate, even when you dearly loved the man whom your heart was given to so willingly. All this could have been different. Right now, this could have been yours and Kisuke’s home with you under the tree practising your arts, and Kisuke away performing his duties. He’d have a room just for his gadgets, and you would quarrel about his unruly sleeping patterns.

You gave a choked laugh that came out like a sob. A teardrop fell from your eye and landed on the ring. Another day passed and still, no sign of Kisuke. You guess your thoughts were correct. He did give up on you.

Vacating the grounds, you returned indoors to shed your tears unaccompanied.

Later that night as you lay, curled up on your futon and under the blanket, tears streaming down your face, the sound of your window being opened startled you. Abruptly you sat up and turned just in time to see a familiar mop of blonde hair and a sly grin poking through the opening. His hat was low, obscuring his handsome face, but you made out his playful features adorning it.

“Kisuke?” you whispered with confusion and relief.

Easily he climbed through your window, holding a finger to his lips before entering your room. Brushing his cloak off and shutting your window behind him, he walked over. “Miss me?”

“Where have you been?” you cried out, shooting off your futon and nearly slipping hand had he not caught you. “It—…it’s been two weeks. I thought—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, moving closer to pull you in for a hug. His arms encompassed you like the warmth on a sunny day at the sea. All your fears suddenly melted away when his lips followed to give you a chaste, yet tender kiss. Breaking away and resting his forehead against yours, you noticed the troublesome look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you like that, but something happened, and I didn’t have a choice.”

You stared at him, breathing in his scent and calming your erratic heartbeat. His usual playful demeanour was gone, replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach lurch. “What do you mean by that?” you asked.

“I’ve been banned from Soul Society, exiled, after being framed for a crime I didn’t commit,” he said gravely. “However, Yoruichi already helped me gather all my equipment, saved me and we’re set to leave for the World of the Living. I have to leave tonight, otherwise things might go south.”

“Kisuke, what are you—are you even hearing…Kisuke—” The weight of his words hit you like a punch to your gut. Nothing he stated seemed to be making sense.

“It is,” he said firmly, cutting you off. “I’ve already made arrangements, but I couldn’t leave without you. Remember, I promised you that I’d be there for you no matter what.”

“Me?” you echoed as your mind raced with the concept of him not forgetting you. “Kisuke, I haven’t even—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. But this is our last chance. If you come with me, we can start over. No more sneaking around, no more hiding. You’ll have your library, flowers, the koi pond, and anything you want. All you have to do is say yes.”

You stared at him, your emotions were a whirlwind of fear, hope and uncertainty. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but the thought of leaving everything behind was terrifying. At the same time, the idea of staying without him was unbearable. “They’re forcing me into a marriage under the guise of ‘arranged,’” you whispered as leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re doing everything to keep us apart.”

“I know,” he muttered, his grip around your waist tightening. “That’s why this is the only way. I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I can promise that I’ll take care of you. Always.”

There was a faint sniffle from you as a tear rolled down your cheek, wetting his cloak. You exhaled. This was Urahara Kisuke, the man who just risked everything just to see you one last time. How could you say no to him now?

“I…” The words caught in your throat as your mind raced. The life you’d always known clashed with the life you’d dreamed of with Kisuke. “You’re asking me to leave everything behind.”

“I am,” he admitted tenderly. “But think about what you’d be leaving it for. A life where no one dictates who you can love or what you can do. A life where we can be free.”

He made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. As comforting and suffocating as it was, your family’s expectations loomed large in your mind, a weight you had carried for as long as you could remember. You tried to picture a future without them, without the home you’d known since you were a child, but it was a blurry image at best. And there Kisuke was standing before you with an outstretched hand and a promise of something entirely different. He was asking you to rewrite your entire story.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered. “It’s not just about leaving—it’s about everything that comes after. What if—what if we fail? What if this doesn’t work out?”

Rubbing soothing circles against your back, he pressed a kiss on your temple. His grey eyes softened, and for a moment, the weight of his usual confidence faltered. “If we fail, we fail together,” he simply stated. “But I don’t believe we will. Not if we fight for it. You and me—we’ve already faced so much. What’s a little more?”

“What if I say yes? What happens next?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we leave right now,” Kisuke replied with a lighter expression of relief. “Everything’s already set and ready to go. All I’m missing is you. I’ll finally have the chance to focus on the things that really matter. Like us.”

“And my family? When they come for me?”

Kisuke’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t shy away from the question. “They’ll be angry and even come searching for you. However, we’ll be safe. Yoruichi and I made sure of that.”

You nodded, your mind swirling with a plethora of emotions, too numerous to name and count. For the first time since the weight of the situation pressed on upon your shoulders, it didn’t feel insurmountable. Kisuke’s presence, his unwavering loyalty and his belief in you provided the strength to consider the possibility of a different future.

Lifting your head off his shoulder and meeting his grey eyes, you noticed a bit of mirth in swimming around. Giving him a playful grimace, you nodded at him with conviction. “Okay. I’ll go with you. I’ll follow.”

“Do you still have the ring?”

Dipping into your pocket and producing the pouch, he gingerly took it from your hand and removed the ring to finally slip it on your finger. A perfect fit. “There. Where it was meant to be all along,” he continued as he gave your finger a kiss before leaning in to peck your lips, still time, a little longer. His arms pulled you tightly against his chest and he dipped his head to switch the angle, deepening the kiss. It was sweet, full of relief and desperation at the same time.

And when he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, there was a cheeky grin on his face. “Running away with a criminal. That’s a naughty thing for a noble like you to commit.”

“So long as that criminal is you, and I get to see you dressed up for our wedding,” you retorted.

“Careful, I might outshine you,” he quipped, taking a step back and guiding you towards the window.

“Well, that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Then let’s get out of here first and make that happen,” he whispered, guiding you to the window eagerly to begin your new life with him. “Just you and me.”

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

#˚₊‧꒰ა satsugacafé ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#urahara kisuke x reader #urahara kisuke imagine #urahara kisuke scenario #urahara kisuke fluff #kisuke x reader #kisuke fluff #kisuke imagine #bleach x reader #bleach imagines #bleach x y/n #bleach x you #bleach fluff #x reader fluff #x reader insert #angst with a happy ending

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coveholdenmyluv · 11 months ago

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Mean Girls - E. Jaeger

synopsis. Eren's the new kid at Trost Academy and being fresh meat in his senior year isn't easy. Especially so when the only friends he's made yet have managed to convince him to help them mess with "The Plastics". The problem?

He's got the biggest crush on their queen bee, Y/N.

series masterlist.

chapter warnings. Foul language, suggestive content, rich ppl, vomit, comedy, simping (eren almost creams his pants multiple times wtf man), second hand embarrassment, revenge revenge revenge

chapter synopsis. Eren’s first day at Trost goes horribly wrong but, hey! There’s sloppy joes? Armin and Mikasa won’t let Eren’s injustice go so easily…

chapter 1. Trost Academy

Trost district.

A paradise where sports cars, shopping centers, and marbled water fountains lined the streets from north to south and east to west.

And smack dab in the center of the bustling city stood an enormous pristine building lined with white bricks and polished blue tinted windows. Its entire essence oozed ideal perfection. Trost Academy, the city's pride and joy.

A fortifying standing contradiction to the boy currently planted at the front gate.

Beads of sweat could be seen sliding down the crevices of Eren's face, whether from exhaustion or nerves he couldn't yet tell. As if being the new kid in his senior year of high school that was in an entirely different city wasn't bad enough, the dumbass forgot to change the time his alarm went off. It had slipped his mind the night before that a new school meant a differing schedule, hence himself still operating on Shiganshina High's delayed timetable.

Luckily for him, mommy Carla wasn't so stupid, so when she noticed that Eren hadn't descended down the stairs for breakfast yet, you best believe she went in there and whooped some Jeager ass. It was because of Carla's thoughtfulness that he was only running behind a full ten minutes, though Eren doesn't take much time to get ready.

So here he was, taking in the glory of what was to be his brand new alma mater. He leisurely made his way to the front gate and displayed his temporary ID to the security guard who in turn allowed him to finally step foot inside his latest ecosystem. Which is actually a very humorous way to describe the academy since usually when a person pictures an ecosystem, one would see animals, trees, water, or any natural aspects that came from wild life.

The academy is the exact opposite of that idea; as opposing as black and white. Not a single weed out of place or bird shit staining any of the bricks - it's clear that someone takes exceptional care of the place.

It is currently 7:15 am and Eren had just acquired his schedule as well as his locker number from the front office, he is now waiting patiently for his student body president to show him around the halls as well as to grab his permanent ID from whatever room they were being made in — he has already forgotten the exact number.

Just as he was falling asleep in the very comfortable chairs of the front office, that almost caused him to froth at the mouth when he realized they were indeed massage chairs, an enthusiastic voice introduced themselves.

"Hey there! You're Eren, right?"

Right before his eyes stood a tall, tan, and freckled god. His dark hair was parted in the middle, with some of it ghosting the top of his face, and the freckles that decorated the apples of his cheeks only enhanced the bright smile he directed towards Eren. His clothes were impeccable, without a wrinkle in sight, and a very obviously expensive diamond studded watch was wrapped around his wrist, putting Eren's own withering one to shame; he'd gotten it on his twelfth birthday as a present from an aunt that he can't remember the name of.

Never in his 18 years of life has Eren ever met someone so blindingly bright, he was almost forced to use his hand as a shield for his eyes at the light that protruded from the boy before him.

"Uh, yeah. Eren Jaeger. I'm guessing you're the one that's gonna show me around this... palace?"

A pellucid laugh fell from the freckled boy at Eren's joke, though he's not sure if he would consider it as such since it's not at all a stretch of the truth, as he placed a hand on his chest to steady his vibrations.

"Yup! Marco Bodt, your new student body president. Welcome, I will do the honors of showing you around campus, to your locker, and attaining your student ID. Class starts at 8:00 so we should get going, Eren." He instructed as he held the door open for the latter. "Can I call you that by the way? I know in Shiganshina it's customary to go by last names, but here we're encouraged to refer to each other by first names because it apparently 'boosts our camaraderie', which is a weird way to think about it since it's not like we're soldiers or anything." He chuckles. "Anyway, if that bothers you then it's totally fine! I can refer to you however you prefer."

"Eren's just fine," He reassures the boy, "Can I call you Marco?"

"Marco is perfect! Well then, let's get going, Eren." Marco says as they finally begin the tour.

As they begin to cruise the halls, Marco begins to offer Eren peculiar information about the places they walk past, as if they are on some safari adventure with teenagers replacing the animals and yellow "Caution! Wet floor!" signs replacing the trees.

Although, usually tour guides speak about history or interesting facts and not... whatever the hell Marco was saying.

"And this is the janitor's closet! You can usually spot at least two people in here making out, just try to not get caught by our janitor, he's small but very scary. I also advise that if you plan on taking more than two people in here, maybe you should reconsider and instead take it to the stairwell just down the hall. Based on my past experiences, it can get pretty cramped in here." The student body president explained with a laugh that threw his head back.

Eren blinked in perplexity at the load of information thrown at him just now, though it's not like he'd be of any need for it. Eren gets no bitches.

"This window right here is where one of my best friends had their first kiss!" He exclaims as he points at the window overlooking the front garden, before he excitedly shifts his attention towards the boy's bathroom on the other side of the hall. "Oh! And just down that way is the restroom where one of my other best friend's got their first blowjob... although, I don't know if it counts since the girl threw it all back up, hmm." He ponders deeply.

That was traumatizing for two reasons: for Marco's best friend experiencing the matter and for Eren since he had NO NEED FOR THAT INFORMATION.

"Wow, you guys sure have a lot of history here." Eren offers unsurely.

Marco agrees with a nod, "That's right we do, we've been here since freshman year so these halls have seen many of our milestones." He explains with a fond expression. "By the way, right down there is the common room that we use to chill on our free periods. Feel free to join my friends and I if you ever see us hanging around here during lunch or just need some company."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Though, Eren doesn't think he'd be able to look Marco's best friend in the eyes after what he's heard.

"Great, now let's head to-" Marco begins before his sentence is interrupted by a high pitched voice.

"Jean, just leave me alone for once, please."

Marco halts his movements and turns to the cause of the disturbance which in turn causes Eren to do the same.

It looked to be a short boy with shoulder length blonde hair and azure eyes that remained obstructed by chunky rectangular glasses. He was being cornered by a taller boy with light brown hair that was slicked and parted, with a heavy amount of gel, and matching colored eyes. The taller boy had his arm perched up against the wall, effectively caging the blonde and thwarting any attempts at escape.

"Eh? Armin, y'know I can't do that. Why don't you yell a little louder so that goth friend of yours can come to your rescue yet again, yeah?" Says the one that Eren guesses is named Jean.

"How about you grow some balls and ask her out instead? Not that she'd say yes, anyway." Armin had mumbled the last part but Jean had heard it loud and clear.

"You don't know what you're talking about Armin, shut the hell up!" Jean says, (yells) whilst he throws his hands up defensively.

The blonde rolls his eyes in irritation and with many cracks to his voice present in his statement, he says, "Why should I? It's not like the whole world doesn't already know about how much of a try hard you are when she's around! Why don't you try licking her boots next time you see her, huh?"

"Oh yeah? Keep talking shit, let's see where that gets you."

"Woah, calm down Jamal. Don't pull out the nine."

"Why I oughta-" Jean begins as he raises his fist, only to be stopped mid swing.

"Is this... fun for you?" Eren asks with a furrow in his brows. His right hand grips Jean's left arm which effectively stops his fist from hitting Armin's frail face.

"Who the hell are you?" Jean asks, irritated.

"Does it even matter? Why bother the kid when he obviously hasn't done jack shit to you?"

"And how do you know he hasn't done jack shit to me? Maybe you should mind your own."

"I heard your conversation. Besides..." Eren looks to Armin and sizes him up before he turns back to Jean with the most deadpan expression one could muster. His point was spoken without words. What could he do to a guy like Jean?

"Hey!" Armin squeals in offense.

Jean nodded in agreement, "Okay, you've got a point, but still, I mean he could've fucked my girl and you wouldn't even know that you're defending a shit person."

"You've gotta get a girlfriend first, Jean. Then we'll see what I do about that." Armin mutters bitterly.

"You better shut your ass up, runt. Before I fuck your nose up more than it already is." Jean grits.

Armin gapes in offense, "WHAT- okay... new insecurity unlocked."

Jean then turns his attention back to Eren. "Anyway, this was an A & B conversation, so C your way out of it." He says oh so maturely.

"How about you make me?" Eren narrows his eyes.

"Okay! Let's all calm down, alright?" Marco finally intrudes as he places himself between the two boys. "Jean, come on man, don't make me tell Y/N about this. She should be finishing up morning practice soon anyway, you should go meet her at her locker like you always do!" He offers, effectively having an effect on the light haired boy. His shoulders relaxed from their tense position at his friend's reassurance.

"Fine." He relents. "Walk with me though, and don't you dare say a word about this to Y/N or else I'll piss in your backpack later." Jean threatens as he pulls himself away from the situation.

Marco giggles nervously as one of his hands rises to rub at the back of his neck, "Sorry about him you two. He didn't mean any of it!" He laughs off the conflict.

"Yes I fucking did!" Jean affirms from down the hall.

"Anyways, so sorry Eren. I'll be right back, I've gotta walk Jean back to his caretaker for the morning." Marco whispers with a palm shielding his lips. "I'll be back in just a sec!" He exclaims and hops off into Jean's direction.

"Why do you always take his side, Marc? I literally almost cried on the spot right now." Jean could be heard whining as both boys rounded the corner and walked out of sight.

A beat of silence occurs where the latter pair were left, before Armin exclaims.

"Uhh, oh!" He turns his body to face a trash can before whispering into the opening, "Mikasa, you can come out now."

Eren lifts a brow as he watches the cover of the trash can lift itself from the inside, and out stepped a girl dressed head to toe in black attire with two dark pigtails and bangs that frame her pale face. She held a black book in her manicured hands. Black nail polish, black lipstick, black fishnets, silver skull rings, and a black choker were more than enough of a hint to Eren for him to realize that this was the goth friend Jean had mentioned earlier.

The sight of a girl stepping out of an empty trash can should have caused him to gape in surprise, but at this point he was ready to expect anything more from his first day at Trost Academy.

"Thank you so much! Uhm, Eren was it? You looked as cool as the guys from 21 Jump Street!" Armin exclaimed and it was only then that the boy held the DVD case in his hands. Who the hell uses DVDs anymore?

"No," The girl declares as she lifts her book to her face, "You must be the dark knight called forth by my curse, here to fight off that man."

"What? Uh- no, I'm just Eren. It was no big deal." Eren deflects as he places his hands into his pockets.

To tell you the honest truth, Eren was shitting himself on the inside during the encounter with the jerk from earlier. He didn't know where he gained the courage to actually stand his ground, much less for someone else.

"You'd think a school as nice as this one would have no tolerance for bullying, though."

"Well, money talks, I guess." Armin says as he attempts to locate his lenses that had fallen during the ruckus.

"I've been trying to hex him since freshman year, but it won't work for some reason. It's like there's a force protecting him from me..." The girl says as she picks up the discarded glasses and hands them to her blonde friend. "Perhaps the Marco rumors are true. It'd make sense if he were an actual angel sent from above-" She continues.

"Wait, what? Who the hell made that up?" Eren asks.

"Beats me, though if I had to guess: I'd say Sasha or Connie." She answers.

"Who are they?"

"They're only two of the plastics." Armin pipes up.

"Plastics? As in, like, a mannequin?"

"What?! No, the plastics are..." Armin began only for his voice to die off as his eyes drifted behind Eren.

"Sorry about that again, Eren!" Marco apologizes as he reappears suddenly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. We really should get going though, we still need to stop at a couple more places and then grab your ID. Oh! Good morning, Mikasa." He looks a bit out of breath, as if he had run the whole way back. The girl being addressed only waved daintily and then shielded herself with her book, probably due to how scintillatingly bright Marco's entrance was.

"That's okay. Yeah, we should." Eren replies.

"Bye Eren! Oh, you should sit with us at lunch later!" Armin bids the boy goodbye.

Eren nods in agreement as he follows after his designated guide, off to somewhere he would probably have to listen to bizarre stories about. It seemed as though Marco could never run out of those, some even filled with normal teen acts and others that cause him to question their sanity.

"Hey Marco, Armin mentioned something earlier today..." He spoke up.

"What's that?" Marco asks as he provides him his full and undivided attention.

"What are 'The Plastics'?"

Marco is visibly stunned by his question for a moment, only for his eyes to give a flicker of boredom before the corners crease in their usual upbeat manner.

"Oh, uhm... I'm not quite sure what you mean." He answers with a gritted smile. "Sorry, I don't think I can help you there."

Eren notices Marco's hesitation, though the only movement he offers is an unsure nod of his head.

A brief moment of silence ensues over the pair of boys, before it's gently shattered by the freckled boy.

"Hey, Eren?"

"...Yeah?"

"A little word of advice from someone you, hopefully, trust to guide you in the right direction?" He suggests hesitantly and Eren finds himself subconsciously holding his breath. "You shouldn't believe everything people say around here, 'kay?" Marco says with a gentle grin.

Well, gentle is what Eren guesses it's supposed to be, though the edges are too frigid for it to be considered so. He couldn't help but sense some sort of hidden lingering emotion layered into Marco's chocolate eyes. Perhaps there was also disappointment?

But, if so, directed at who?

"Yeah, thanks... I'll uhm, keep that in mind." Eren replies. He couldn't help but feel as though he was the one who had created that disappointment, and for a reason he couldn't tell you, Eren didn't like the idea.

He hadn't noticed that they made their way to a hallway filled to the brim with lockers lining the walls and students idly loitering around. Checking his wrist watch, he realized they only had 20 minutes until their first class of the day had to begin. As Eren was inspecting his watch, he failed to notice that Marco had halted his pace to peer in the direction they had just entered from.

It was as if the next few seconds moved in decelerated speed. Eren bumped into Marco's chest which in turn forced the boy to look up at the taller boy, only to notice the smile and excited flutter of his hand directed to someone currently behind him, effectively making his own head turn to face the stranger.

In walked a girl that wore a cute blue top with lace adorning the neckline, paired with a matching skirt and sneakers. She had gold, diamonds, and pearls furnishing every inch of her body — from her headband, to her ears, neck, wrists, and even a single ankle. She trotted down the freshly mopped hallway with poise and what Eren noticed to be very toned legs that could have only been worn by someone that took great care of them. Her entire presence demanded the attention of everyone blessed to be in her vicinity.

And so, that's what she got.

He didn't even need to look around to be able to tell that everyone had paused their activities to look at the elegance that was her. How could they when it had seemed as though she had just descended from the heavens above?

...Or, was that simply Eren thinking that part? Maybe that was just a him thing...

"Hey Y/N, good morning sugar! Did you just come from practice?" Marco asks with a noticeably brighter smile than all the ones Eren has seen today; the only grin he could think to rival this one was the one he offered Jean earlier.

The girl noticed Marco as well and her once weary gaze perked up at his presence.

Eren didn't notice it before, because of his ogling, but she was noticeably out of breath and her hair was wet. Did she just step out of the shower? He couldn't fathom how anyone could look so attractive freshly out of a bath... He usually resembled a wet dog.

"Morning Marc', I'm surprised you aren't with your steed right now. Did mom and dad get into a fight again?" She says with a playful lilt to her voice — that Eren could have sworn had visible italics, for some unknown reason. Her voice was so fluid and velvety that his knees almost buckled on the spot.

"Not yet," Marco grimaces with a chuckle. "I'll join you guys in a bit! I'm showing the new kid around right now. Student Prez business, you know the works." He explains with a thumb jutted towards the aforementioned student.

Eren made a mental note to bow down and kiss Marco's feet later to display his gratitude for the brisk switch of attention, for it caused the embodiment of perfection to direct her stare onto his spellbound face. She raised a brow at him before she dropped her gaze to his feet and leisurely dragged it up his entire frame.

Eren almost moaned.

"Morning, new kid." She greeted, though her tone was noticeably far less light when addressing Eren than it was when she spoke to her friend, and then turned her attention back to Marco

It seems she has deemed Eren irrelevant.

"Hurry it up, Marco, 'less you want to tarnish your perfect attendance. I'll be with the diva, I can sense he's in one of his daily moods. I can tame him, but I'll need your help soon." She teases with a roll of her eyes.

A boisterous laugh fell from Marco's lips, "Yeah, I'll join you guys in a bit. Save me a spot-" He halts mid sentence upon noticing Eren's vibrant flush.

The shorter brunet had acted nonchalant throughout the entire duration of his tour, so it baffled Marco just how quickly he altered his tune.

The Student President looks to his friend, poor Y/N who has just gotten out of morning practice and now has to deal with Jean's morning fit. Her legs probably ache and he knows how much she hates the feeling of her wet hair dampening her back, she deserves a small break this once, right?

So, he looks to Eren once again, and then to Y/N, and then repeats the process about five more times.

"What are you doing? Your head's gonna fall off-"

"OW- ooh..." Marco suddenly grips his stomach in agony and hisses through his teeth. "LORD HAVE MERTHY, I'M ABOUT TO BUST!" He yells and dramatically slams himself against the lockers behind him.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Asks Y/N, concern and shock etched into her features.

With a matching look on his face, Eren reaches a hand out in an attempt to help stable the boy. "Marco, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine! I just need to drop a deuce real quick." Marco reassures, which causes both of their brows to rise, though he pays them no heed. "Y/N, you wouldn't mind showing Eren to Dr. Hange's room, would you? He's still gotta get his permanent ID and I don't want to leave him alone. He's just a baby." He says while mustering up the best puppy dog eyes he has ever used.

She's always been a sucker for doe eyes.

"Sure? Are you totally sure you're okay though? That was super sudden-"

"Yup! All fine and dandy, I gotta go. Have fun!" Marco exclaims and runs off to someplace god only knows with how his legs are clenching together.

"He's so fruity sometimes..." Y/N mumbles as she watches him leave, before she shakes her head and extends a jeweled hand towards the boy beside her. "Anyway, sorry about that. Was it Evan?" She asks unsurely.

"E-eren." He says with an audible voice crack, which in turn causes him to clear his throat and deepen his voice dramatically. "It's- I'm just Eren." He says and accepts her offering.

He has to make a lasting impression.

As soon as he takes hold of her soft and manicured hand, he swears he feels some sort of electrical current running through from his head to his toes. Golden sparks flew around her frame and blew some of her hair away from her cheeks... or perhaps that was the effect of Eren's heavy ass breathing fanning across her skin. She noticeably grimaces at the feeling and flinches away before she steadies herself once more.

"Well then, 'just Eren'. The name's Y/N, and sorry about Marco by the way. He's usually really composed so I have no idea what got into him just now. Wow, your hand is super sweaty..." She adds as she pulls her own away from his.

Eren pays the comment no mind and instead murmurs in an hypnotic state, "Y/N, wow that's actually really pretty."

"Oh? Why do you look so surprised?" She asks with a teasing tilt to her lips, her sultry tone of voice was an obvious attempt to loosen them both from the tight restraints their first meeting held them in. Though, she failed to notice how her continuation had gravely affected the boy. "Do I look like I would have an ugly ass name or something?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all." Eren vehemently stated. "I mean, why would anyone say that? You're really pretty, like prettier than your name- prettier than me!" He nervously chuckles.

"Oh, and that's such a valid standard because you're a pretty princess, aren't you? You think highly of yourself, don't you?" She continues her teasing, though Eren still doesn't take the hint.

Shit, he's already messing up. That's okay, he still has time to fix this.

"What?! N-no, that's not what I meant either! You're just like the prettiest person I've ever met, I don't want to cause you any insecurities!"

"Oh trust me, you won't. I know I'm-"

"I over lick my lips when I'm nervous! Sometimes it causes them to get chapped so I have to carry chapsticks with me everywhere." Eren also overshares personal, (embarrassing), information as a nervous habit. Word vomit, if you will.

A trait he is unfortunately exhibiting right now.

"Uh, okay?"

"When I was younger I used to eat the wax from my ears because I used to think it was the same as bees wax, therefore I convinced myself it tasted like honey comb."

Her jaw drops and the teasing grin is gone, clearly being caught off guard by his disturbing words. "Ew..."

"Anyway, you're way prettier than your name! I swear! I could prove it to you?! What do you want me to do? I'll do it, just say the word!" Eren hastily deflects as he flails his arms around and word vomits onto the glistening marbled floors. It's a pathetic sight, really. His insides feel like they're burning an inferno that he can't contain. His stomach begins to churn and suddenly he feels what he imagines Marco had felt earlier.

Does he seriously have to take a deuce right now? Perhaps he should have gone with Marco instead...

"Hey, dude... are you okay? You're looking really pale-" Begins the girl, though her attempt at showing concern was halted by Eren's loud and body convulsing gag.

Oh no... He can feel it, not word vomit, actual vomit pounding its way up his throat, climbing and begging to be released. Sharp talons cleave the walls of his esophagus so heavily that he feels as if he can't breathe. He has never in his 18 years of life felt like this and before he can even attempt to force himself to stop... it overflows.

Spewing out of his lips and onto the girl right before him was his double quarter pounder with cheese, large fries dipped in his Oreo McFlurry, and sprite from last night. All over the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on, the girl of his dreams.

And it's only then that Eren realizes they weren't alone.

Every single pair of eyes within the vicinity were glued onto their forms. The way Eren hurled and bent forward right onto Y/N's chest.

"What the actual hell?!" The girl shrieks as pure shock and disgust pours into her features. Eren feels hot tears gather on his waterline from the sheer force his body was using to dump out their contents. "What is wrong with you?!" She asks but garners no response as his mouth was preoccupied.

He tries to speak but every time he makes an attempt, his body curls inwards and begins to retch once again, "Shit, I'm so-" He begins, but to no avail. Not unless soiling a pretty girl's outfit counts as any benefit, at least.

"Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!"

It's safe to say that Eren has made his lasting impression.

About 30 minutes after his projectile vomiting incident, Eren and Y/N are walking the same hallway they had met in, on their way to Dr. Hange's room for a stupid ID that he doesn't even care about anymore. Not when he can feel the wrathful glare from the short janitor stabbing at the side of his head. Eren grimaced as he walks past and murmurs a soft apology for creating the mess he was required to scrub until the floor glistened once again.

How did he already get on the janitor's shit list?

The girl beside him wasn't a fresh breeze on a sunny Sunday morning either. Rightfully so, considering she was forced to go shower again, though at least she was smart enough to store an extra pair of clothes in her locker. Here she was sporting yet another skirt, only this one was a vintage green finished with a mermaid hem. Her top was matching in color with some sort of floral pattern that Eren decided suited the way she smelled, and a small cardigan laid right on top. Her head was adorned with a white headband that matched her sneakers.

This chick seriously can't look anything less than perfection, can she?

Eren himself hadn't gotten any of last nights dinner on his own clothes, thankfully since he was not smart enough to do the same as the irritated girl. He better be extra thankful because of course he chose to wear a white button up today and there is no way he would have gotten the stain out, much less the smell.

They walked in silence, side by side, as the girl gripped the strap of her handbag... is that Balenciaga? Either way, Eren struggled to match her pace. She was absolutely pissed, that much he could tell.

He didn't know what to do, he could barely bring himself to speak. He felt that if he attempted to, he might puke all over her designer clothes again and he doubts she would have a third outfit prepared.

She would, but that's not important.

He really really wants to apologize, perhaps he can pay her back? Maybe he can sell one of his kidneys on the black market? Would they even pay him enough for that? He could probably find a nice corner and advertise his virginity to cover the rest, he's 18 now so it should be legal, right? Or, perhaps he will forever stay in debt to a girl he met in high school that pranced around in designer clothing and handbags. No one would ever think to hire him for any respectable position in that case.

He's fucked.

"Uhm..." He starts.

She sighs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Listen, I'll do you a favor. Let's just forget all about this and look the other way. As long as we never interact again, this will fade sooner rather than later and I'll have received my package from UPS or FedEx or whoever the fuck, and gotten a replacement for that really cute top you just ruined. Capiche?"

Eren sputters at her solution, staggering at the thought of never interacting and going their separate ways. Though, he supposes this is better than resorting to the black market. Perhaps they truly could move past this hurdle and live as simply acquaintances — acquaintances that harbored very ill memories of each other.

"Okay-" He began, only to get interrupted by a ping in her hand.

She had barely even glanced at it, really it was not a salient thing on her mind. She would have left it at a single glance would it not have been for several more following in succession. Only then did she spare it a second glance and the horror painted on her face was a tale tell sign that whatever it was that she read was not ideal.

"Oh no... no no no no, shit!" She cursed and rapidly tapped her fingernails on her illuminated screen.

A video played on her phone, loud enough to reach Eren's own ears. There was retching sounds, a gag, and then a splash. 'Are you fucking serious right now?! This is fresh Prada! Ugh, you indigent bum, I hope you know this costs more than your damn miserable life!' Followed after from the same velvety voice that made him weak in the knees.

"Evan-" She called as she shoved the phone towards Eren's face and his worst fears were confirmed.

Someone had recorded the entire event.

It was posted to the schools Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter. There were comments, hundreds of them, and memes were already being made of Eren's face in pure agony. His teary eyes and sweaty face were plastered on every social media. He doesn't know if he's lucky that everyone is in class at the moment so that no one could actively laugh at him or if he was doomed because he's alone in a hallway with his newfound crush as his retching sounds echoed from the phone in her dainty hand.

"This is so bad! No one is gonna let this shit go anytime soon." She states as she reads the hundreds of loathing comments. "Look, I overreacted back there-"

"Just save it, okay? Thanks for walking me but I think I've got it from here." He says and hurriedly runs with his tail between his legs as she stares at his retreating form. Her jeweled hand finds itself aching to reach out, but she forces it to stay glued to her side.

"Well... fuck."

Three.

That's how many classes Eren has had to sit through as people stare and gawk at him. Some are bold enough to point and laugh, though never to the extent where they would say anything to his face, while others resorted to mocking him behind his back, but the worst of them all?

The ones that look at him with pity.

Eren absolutely abhors being pitied.

He hates it — hates to be babied and hates to be coddled. He's a grown ass 18 year old man (boy) and has no need for people to feel sorrow for him when he's the one controlling all of his own actions.

He's a grown ass man (boy), alright. A grown ass man (boy) that just finished crying in that, surprisingly clean, bathroom stall because of the sheer humiliation that he felt. The ignominy that he had a moment of weakness caught on camera and shared with the entire school. The indignity of the fact that he ran and cried uncle from her.

If only she hadn't been there, then maybe he would have been spared the embarrassment. If only Marco hadn't needed to take a shit. If only Jean hadn't been messing with Armin this morning, then perhaps he wouldn't have had to intervene and therefore would have arrived at Dr. Hange's room on time and missed Y/N's entrance, she would have never made him weak in the knees and tongue tied. Nothing would have been spilt aside from his drool. None of this would have happened.

All of those thoughts ran rampant in Eren's head, so much so that he didn't even notice the lunch bell had rung until he felt someone continuously poke his shoulder.

"Wow you have tiny shoulders!" A tall girl with brown hair pulled into a pony exclaimed.

Swatting her hands away, Eren asks irritated, "What do you want?" Though, he knew it was pointless. She was probably there to ridicule and taunt him into crying some more, which he would totally give into.

"Uhh, the lunch bell rang already, so-"

"Oh, t-thanks." He answers.

She didn't recognize him? She isn't laughing at or deriding him, that's amazing! Maybe people have already begun to forget! That's what always happens after a major incident, so perhaps his life will be back to norm-

"Hey, wait! Aren't you the guy from that video? Oh, man! You puked all over Y/N, didn't you?" She asks, throwing her head back in a guffaw. "Dude, I've never seen her make that face before-"

"Sash! Are ya coming or not? They're leaving us behind!" Calls a boy with a silver buzz cut, his head and torso peeking into the emptying classroom buoyantly.

"Hey, Connie! Come look! It's the guy from the video, the one that squirted his juices all over Y/N!"

"I did not squirt my juices!"

"No fucking way! Man, you're famous!"

Just as the lively boy was making his way over to Eren's desk, Eren abruptly stands from his seat, the metal scraping at the floor harshly, and hastily grips his backpack.

"Listen, just leave me alone. I did not squirt my juices and I most definitely am not famous. But, you know what? Since you're both so insistent, why don't I give you an autograph?!" He erupts and then shoves two of his fingers down the back of his throat, gagging in the process.

"Woah! No need, we're fine..." Connie takes a step back and shields himself with his arms.

Eren glares sneeringly, "Apologies, I must have squirted all my juices for the day, I'm all out." He bites sarcastically and stomps his feet all the way out the door.

"What's wrong with him?" Connie asks his friend.

"He seems really upset, I don't know why, though." She answers obliviously.

"Beats me," Connie shakes his head dismissively and charges on with why he was originally even there. "Anyway, I was trying to tell you that we should go before they run out of sloppy Joes! You know Reiner doesn't give a damn about his bank account when they serve those, and if we don't go now... they'll all be devoured."

"Devoured?!" She screeched. "I'll kill the big oaf!"

"Then hurry your fat ass up, he's got a head start already!"

"What if we jump him in the lunch line? Oh! We could take his wallet too!"

"Girl, he's six foot four. The only things you'll be jumping are his man knockers, now get your ugly ass to the cafeteria."

"I mean, if that was the result of my actions, you would not catch me complaining-"

"Let's. Go."

"Eren! Over here!" Armin, the blonde from this morning, called out.

Eren had just arrived at the expanse cafeteria, and to say he's about to piss his pants would be the understatement of the century. He had hoped to simply grab a tray of those magnificent looking sloppy Joes and then retreat back into the safety of the biggest stall available in the men's restroom to finish his crying session. Though, before he could even grab a tray, he was eagerly waved over by the goth girl and scrawny boy from earlier. They didn't seem to be laughing at his expense, and he had to admit, the familiar faces brought him a comfort he desperately needed at the moment.

"Hey," Eren greets as he sits across from the duo who contrasted each other so much so, it was almost amusing to him. They were sat at a round table near the back that allowed them clear views of the others surrounding them.

"Hey, how have you been?" Mikasa asks softly. He can tell she is trying her best to be as consoling as possible, considering the obvious shit day he's had.

"As well as I can be," He answers with a sigh and then drags his hands down his face in exhaustion. "I assume you guys have seen the video?" He asks with a wince, already having accepted what answer he would receive but still afraid of it. He settles his backpack on his lap and wraps his arms around its waist — he still hadn't stashed it away in his locker in fear of walking down that familiar hallway once again. It was as if he had developed PTSD or something of the sort that had him feeling like he would reenact the entire fiasco a second time. Not to mention, the hallway would surely be filled to the brim with other students and he couldn't bear to have all eyes on him again. Simply walking into the cafeteria had a dozen holes being burned on the back of his head, he doesn't want to imagine what kind of attention he would garner then.

"Everyone and their mothers have, I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Eren." Armin says sympathetically.

"Oh no, not the milfs." Eren grumbles as he squishes his face into the top of his bag.

"It's the plastics, Eren. What can you expect?" Mikasa grits bitterly, her eyes scrutinizing a table not far from her own. "I bet Y/N planned this all out, some kind of sick scheme to assert her dominance over the fresh meat."

"Mikasa... even if that were true, she's the one that got her clothes ruined. What good would that have done for her?" Armin rebuts.

The girl looks appalled that her friend would even ask such a thing. "Armin, she's loaded. The cost of an outfit like that is pocket change in her eyes." She reminds him. "Trust me, that was a minuscule loss to her father's bank account."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't put it past them." He agrees.

"Uhm," Eren interjects with a raise of his had as if he were in the middle of a lecture. "What the hell are 'The Plastics'?" He asks with his fingers making air quotations. "Armin mentioned them earlier too, so I asked Marco about it but he said he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Of course he said that, he's a part of the problem!" Mikasa exclaims a bit too loud for Armin's taste.

"Calm down Mikasa, they'll hear you!" He ushers the girl, not noticing he too has reached her level of volume. "Okay, Eren. If you want to survive, cause you're not gonna thrive unless you're one of them, you'll need to know who the hell they even are." He tells him whilst jutting his fingers in the direction that the girl beside him was just glaring at.

At a table not too far from their own, that they held a near perfect view of, sat a group of 8 teens. Although they all looked drastically different from each other, not to mention how they act, one thing was certain in what they had in common.

The blistering amount of confidence that oozed from their pores.

There was no doubt about where they all stood in the social hierarchy, the energy they exuded wouldn't allow any shred to sprout. The auras around them were asphyxiating and wouldn't let them go unnoticed, it was as if those same auras had wrapped their tendrils around each person present in the room, forcing them to bend knee to their will.

"Those eight are who we call 'The Plastics'." Armin explains.

"Cause they're all fake conniving bitches." Mikasa grits. It was clear that the girl had it out for them personally, though the reason for that is still a mystery to Eren.

"Tone it down, 'Kasa. They'll hear you."

"Whatever."

"This seems very personal. What'd they do to you?" Eren asks as he leans his chin on his palm.

"What do you mean?" The girl asks.

"Well, you seem to really hate them. Like you have some kind of personal vendetta."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, why?"

Before she can answer, Armin interjects, "Funny thing, Y/N and Mikasa were actually really-"

"Armin!" She interrupts his explanation, to which the boy sputters at her exclamation.

"What?"

"Can you not, right now?" She grits at the blonde, before she directs her attention back to the brunet before her. "We should give you a bit of background first, so you're somewhat familiar with who they are."

Both teens make intense eye contact before nodding their heads in sync and announcing, "Here's the mother fucking tea."

"Sasha Braus and Connie Springer," Armin says while jesting to a pair of students sitting beside each other, both having just sat down and were unleashing their wrath onto the other members of their table. It seemed they had been served whatever was left of the sloppy Joes which meant that they had less meat than the rest. "AKA: thing one and thing two. The most dumbest people you will ever meet, much more walk the planet."

"Armin sat beside them in Film theory last year." Mikasa adds.

The boy in topic nods vehemently, "They genuinely didn't know that Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana were the same person."

"I honestly don't even know how they got in with that kind of crowd, maybe their looks?" Mikasa thinks aloud.

"Either way, be wary. Just because they're stupid, doesn't mean they aren't as vicious as the rest. They know everything about everyone and are almost always at the center of rumors and drama. Also both stupidly rich." Armin warns.

Eren's face grows distant as he looks their way, reminiscing on his own interaction with the two. "Those two laughed at me in class earlier. I nearly thought they hadn't recognized me, but of course that was too good to be true." He says.

"No surprise there," Mikasa scoffs, "One time, they were caught trying to kill a ferret. The devils almost suffocated the poor thing with their bags." She explains as her fists slam down on the table brutally.

Armin's shoulders jump at the sound of the impact and one of his hands fly towards his head to adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The worst of the worst." He agrees.

Pointing to the boy familiar to Eren's eyes, the galled teens continue, "Next, we have Marco Bodt - our student body president. The quote 'nicest person to ever grace these halls' end-quote... well I call bullshit."

"There's rumors that he's been sent by whatever god you believe in to watch over the plastics. To be completely honest, that was probably started by Connie or Sasha, which wouldn't surprise me."

"On the surface, he's a real nice guy... almost too nice." Armin adds as he squints his eyes in suspicion. "It makes you wonder if it's all a farce."

"Oh, it totally is. I've heard rumors of him snapping at others and then proceeding to bribe them to keep their mouths shut." Mikasa nods.

Eren begins to ponder all previous interactions he's had with the boy, almost saddened at the thought of Marco's extremely friendly demeanor being a farce. "I never thought of it like that, it sucks actually. I thought we could have been friends."

It's Mikasa's turn to warn the brunet this time, "Zon't zo it, girl. Zon't zo it."

"Now, Ymir..." Armin begins before his face scrunches up and his eyes shoot to the ceiling. "I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what her last name is." He resolves.

"She's a part of the varsity girl's soccer team." Mikasa finishes as she juts her chin to a tall tanned girl sat beside Sasha. She donned dark brown hair tied into a low ponytail, and freckles littered her cheeks. She howled in laughter with her arm laid behind the seat of the blonde beside her. "She's a rude bitch and sarcastic to everyone except Historia, who she has a god obvious thing for. Well, obvious to everyone except Historia herself. Which brings us to-"

"Historia Reiss, she's your stereotypical popular girl — blonde, hot, and captain of the cheer squad." Armin interjects.

Next to Ymir was a small girl with vibrantly golden locks that could only be rivaled by Armin himself... not only that but they had nearly identical jeweled eyes. One could think they were somehow related, if not for their entirely opposing backgrounds. That one being Eren.

"Woah! Armin, is that your sister?!" Eren exclaims, staggering at their resemblance.

"What?! No!" The blonde exclaims, "Everyone always thinks that..." He grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

"I thought the same thing too." Mikasa snickers, "But, the more I've gotten to know Armin, the more contrary they get and now I can't even imagine them within an arms length of each other."

"Anyway! She's also crazy rich." Armin deflects.

"Uhm, isn't everyone in this school rich? I'm pretty positive I'm the only exception." Eren determines as he gestures to the rest of the tables littering the room.

Armin gapes like a fish out of water, "Well, yeah... but we mean Elon Musk rich! When we say rich at Trost, we don't mean normal rich, we mean buying an island rich. I have half the mind to seduce Reiner and get that bag, the big oaf won't know what hit him - I'd be set for life."

"How did you get in here, anyway? Are you like Einstein smart or what? What's your deal?" Mikasa bluntly asks.

"I wish." Eren answers, "In actuality, my dad's a doctor so we're doing well enough, though our net worth is nothing compared to everyone else here. I think I'd have to give the credit to my mom though, she recently got a new job in the fashion industry, which is why we had to move."

With a face that contradicts her words, Mikasa nods, "Interesting. Anyway, I heard Historia once made a girl cry in the restroom! Apparently, she cut the girl's hair because it looked better than her own." She informs them.

"That's downright cruel." Armin squeaks as he clutches the strands by his face.

"Next, we have... ugh, Jean." Mikasa groans and then faux vomits, which Eren finds to be insensitive, considering his experience with the action today.

"He's arrogant, cocky, and never leaves me alone." Armin grimaces.

"He's a wannabe delinquent and a whore for attention. Also, another addition to the stupidly rich club and best friends with Y/N. They're like Yin and Yang, but more alike than different." Mikasa glares at the fawn haired boy who is in the middle of flipping the bird to Ymir.

"Now, Reiner Braun. He's your stereotypical jock — blonde, hot, and captain of the men’s varsity lacrosse team."

"He's a weird one, sometimes leaning more towards a decent guy and then the next moment he's acting like... well, a jock. Pretty sure he has a thing for Y/N, too." Armin adds as the teen quite literally proves his point, feigning a yawn and laying his arm on the backrest of her chair. Though, the girl abruptly stands up and out of reach.

Weird.

"I think they've hooked up at least once. Of course, that's just what I've heard people whisper around them. No surprise, he's rich as hell as well." Armin finishes.

"And last but not least," Mikasa's once hard glare turns piercing and no longer exhibits a frosty aura. Instead, her irises project blazing infernos. "Y/N Ackerman. If the academy had a royal court, she'd be the one sat cozy on the throne. Queen bee, you could call her. She's also the captain of the girl's varsity soccer team. Don't be fooled, because she may seem like your typical selfish backstabbing slut faced hoe bag, but in reality she is so much more than that."

Eren can't help but feel as though those two have a personal history that can't be uncovered with a simple glance. Though, he notes how one sided it looks to be.

As he goes to glance at the girl they are currently gossiping about, he notices that her spot at the infamous table was vacant. The only people left were the rest of her friend group, all of which sporting dumbfounded faces.

Dumbfounded faces directed towards his own table.

Why are they looking his way?

"Hey, Evan, right?" Says that distinctly velvety voice that forces Eren to be grateful he's sat. His knees wouldn't have been able to handle his entire weight, not this time.

Mikasa gapes at the sight of the girl standing before their table, before she steels herself and returns to her signature glare. "It's Eren. Eren Jaeger." She reminds with gritted teeth.

Y/N noticeably winces at her slip up, "My bad, I'm terrible with names."

"It's fine! I'm just Eren." Eren hastily reassures as he stares up at her in a daze.

The girl chuckles softly, "Okay, just Eren." She corrects and then her eyes dart across the cafeteria to assure that all eyes were on her, as she intended. Her class did not disappoint. The oh so easily influenced senior class of Trost Academy granted her their fully undivided attention. Every breath turned stagnant, chewing halted, and conversations left on hold in hopes of finding out what the hell their most prestigious alumni wants with the social rejects.

She clears her throat and asks profoundly, "Why don't you come to my game today? We're playing home, and afterwards we're heading to my house to celebrate our inevitable win. There'll be pizza for dinner, on me." Her eyes dart to the other two across from him and her smile grows tight. "You can even bring your... friends." She says, though her words sound unsure and awfully forced.

Multiple beats of silence follow the offer, no one daring to move a muscle in fear of furthering their own confusion.

What? Why is this happening? What's her motive? Is she going to humiliate him again? Hadn't she had enough of that this morning? Eren wants to genuinely ask himself those questions, but in truth, he folds at her mere presence.

He's left with his jaw dropped and exchanges panicked glances with Mikasa and Armin.

Mikasa's expression of bewilderment fades into one of distaste and suspicion. "Now, why the hell would we do that? Princess."

"Because I'm inviting you? Obviously." The H/C girl retorts with the same bite in her tone. The room goes quiet once again, before she decides she has had enough and sighs in exasperation. "Look, I'm not about to grovel at your feet, I'd rather not crease my sneakers; they're Italian leather. You either come or you don't." She finishes and then leans Eren's way, causing him to catch a whiff of her floral perfume. "Think of this as a way for me to help you out a bit. You... didn't deserve that humiliation. Especially not on your first day." She whispers and juts her head to the eyes around them.

Oh, wow. It seems that she's attempting to make it look as if they are both on good terms, friends even. An attempt at fixing his reputation, which means she feels bad.

His heart is going to explode, and he's begging himself to keep whatever remains in his stomach where it should be.

His head nods buoyantly, "Yeah, I'm in love with yo-"

"Yes! We accept your invitation and will be cheering from the stands at 6 pm today. Don't worry your pretty little head, you'll see us there." Mikasa announces abruptly and fixes the girl a determined stare.

"Oh..." She breathes, almost as if she didn't expect the results she was given. "You're sure?"

"Yes, no take backsies." Mikasa says with a taunting smile.

"Okay then, cool. I'll- uh, see you guys later?" Her gaze moves to Eren for confirmation.

The boy nods dumbly, with pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, I'll love you lat- I mean! I'll see you later."

The corner of her lips rise slightly at his outburst and she tilts her head curiously, before she nods and retreats back to her seat beside Reiner, the seven sat around her giving her matching shocked expressions.

As everyone slowly snaps out of their dazes and begin to return to their own activities for the remaining of the time they had left, Y/N's friends aren't as willing to glide over what had just occurred.

"Y/N, what the hell was that? Since when do you do charity?" Asks Jean with a concerned expression.

"Don't tell me that's your way of atoning for the puking fiasco..." Ymir adds.

"We told you that it wasn't your fault, hon. It was the assholes that recorded everything and made it a bigger deal than it had to be." Historia reassures as she sits up from Ymir's hold.

"Are you beating yourself up about that, Y/N?" Connie asks sympathetically.

Reiner places his jacket onto the girl's shoulders and takes a hold of one of her palms comfortingly. "Do you want my last sandwich?" He offers.

"What? No, I mean sure I felt bad earlier but that's long since worn off. I'm trying to fix my own reputation here!" She answers boldly, "Have you seen the comments on the video? I'm being called a snobby uptight bitch. Yeah, no way am I gonna let that continue." She scoffs.

The entire table nods and murmurs their agreements, considering they probably would have done the same. It's not like she truly had harmful intentions, she just figured she could kill two birds with one stone.

"I'm not gonna lie though, can you really blame me for feeling just a tad bit bad for the guy? He already looks like a total loser. It's affecting him as much as it is me, so why not try to help the both of us out?" She explains, "Though, I didn't think they would actually agree. Especially Mikasa."

"So... no sandwich?" Reiner asks again.

"Rei, of course I want your sandwich." She answers and he happily slides his tray her way.

"To be honest, the kid's weird for projectile vomiting on his first day, but I can get behind your idea." He admits as he leans back in his chair.

"Well, you've surely seen better days." Marco comments sympathetically. "You sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," She answers, "Though, I barely got any sleep last night. Auggie had his band over because dad wasn't home, and he learned how to work the power box, so now I can't just turn it off whenever I want because the fucker will just turn it back on." She sighed as she bit into her sloppy Joe.

"Ooh! When are they gonna play for us again? They're improving so fast, I bet we could get them to play at Miche's Diner." Sasha suggests eagerly. "Speaking of, when the hell are we going back? It's been forever since I had that mouthwatering burger in my stomach!"

"Sasha, you're slobbering. Also, we literally went last weekend, what do you mean 'forever'?" Jean reminds the girl.

"I said what I meant and I meant what I said."

"Anyway, lighten up, Y/N. That loser is hardly important enough to let him get you down." Jean chuckles as he ruffles her hair, effectively tarnishing her picture perfect hairstyle.

The girl groans and jerks her head away, "I'd never let a man tell me what to do, now fix my hair you rat. I can't be seen like this." She finishes and points a manicured finger to her head, which the boy rolls his eyes at but accedes nonetheless.

"Oh, I know!" Marco exclaims with a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. "Why don't I bring Megan over to your house tonight after the game? That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" He suggests after having been brainstorming a way to lift her spirits.

"Oh wow! Yes, I miss Megan so much, please bring him over Marco!" Sasha says as she throws her torso on the table, cupping her hands together in a pleading motion.

"Yeah, I've been needing my weekly trauma dump, so that'd be nice for me too." Reiner agrees.

"I haven't been able to buy him snacks because I've been saving up for my club penguin membership." Connie whines dramatically.

"Connie, you're loaded. What are you talking about?" Jean deadpans.

The boy crosses his arms and glares at his freckled friend beside him, "Well, someone here said I couldn't use my parents' money on Megan anymore."

The boy in question simply rubs the back of his neck and chuckles, "Well, last time I let you, you ended up buying him way more than just food. Trust me, you've given him enough, get your club penguin membership."

"Look cueball, all you've gotta do is make a couple bets on who you think is gonna win tonight and then when we inevitably do, you'll have enough for Megan, your membership, and more. Donezo." Ymir says with a smirk, obviously very confident in her team's skills.

"And where the hell am I gonna find someone willing to bet against you guys?"

"Just go to the other side of the stands, Stohess is cocky as shit. Trust me, you'll find tons of betting twerps."

"Cool, good point."

"Now, let's just hope your new friends aren't bad luck charms, Captain." The brunette turns towards the girl in topic. "Last thing we want is this attempt at mending reputations to come bite us in the ass."

"Oh please, Ymir." Y/N scoffs sarcastically, "You make it seem like they're out to get us." She chuckles at the idea.

"Even if they were, what's the worst they could do?"

"Guys, what the hell just happened?" Eren asks with his mouth agape. Armin brings his hand up to close his jaw manually.

"I think we just got invited to a party? Is it even a party? Only the plastics ever get to celebrate with the captain after their wins, of course there are a few exceptions but I never thought we would ever be included in those exceptions!"

"I think I almost creamed my pants." Eren murmurs as he calms his heart rate from his latest interaction. "Wait," He redirects his attention to the ravenette, "Why the sudden change of heart, Mikasa? I could have sworn you were committing mental arson just now."

"Don't you guys see? This is our chance — we can finally get close to the plastics and ruin them from the inside out." She explains with a menacingly calculative expression on her face.

Both boys gawked at the girl and the sheer audacity she had to suggest such a thing, until Armin couldn't bear to contain his disbelief. "Are you crazy, Mikasa?! What are you on? How would we even pull that off?!"

"I don't want to do that, you sound psychotic. This is like some weird wannabe spin-off plot from some 2000's movie that we would never do justice and leave all the viewers complaining about how we should leave iconic films alone." Eren states adamantly. Her idea sounds cruel and he honestly doesn't know if they would deserve to be the pawns of some sort of revenge plot.

"Eren, she humiliated you. You might have your doubts of if she meant to ruin your first day at a school such as this one, but that's just how she works." Mikasa grits and her piercing stare somehow grows even fiercer than ever before. "She makes you think she cares and then when you need her the most? Bam! She drops you like a damn potato. She's the most backstabbing bitch to ever backstab!" She defends herself whilst her hands repeatedly make stabbing motions towards the boy's chest.

Eren's face contorts into a grimace, "This seems more like it's for your own vengeance than mine." He states as his arms cross over his chest.

"Yeah, Mikasa." Armin interjects, "Even though I don't like them very much, ruining their lives is a little too far; even for me."

The girl steadies her breath as she calms herself and reels in her resentment. "Alright, relax. I just worded it wrong." She reassures, though Eren doesn't know if he believes her. "What I meant is that we should take this opportunity to mess with them a bit. Maybe knock them down a peg, no biggie. We have nothing better to do and it's not like this invitation will actually spark some type of friendship with any of them. It would simply never work."

"...How would you know that?" Eren asks, though what he really means is, why? For what reason would no sort of relationship have the ability to form? Was the idea of being associated with people of their status so inconceivable?

"Eren, she couldn't even remember the name of the guy she completely humiliated just a couple of hours ago. Your name. She couldn't remember your name. Trust me, I know."

Ouch. That one cut deep, much to his surprise.

"Well... perhaps this would get Jean to leave me alone. At least for some time?" Armin mutters with his chin between his index and thumb.

"Exactly," Mikasa agrees. "Armin stops his bully, Eren gets his revenge, and I get the pleasure of partaking in and watching the collapse of the hierarchy."

Armin giggles conspicuously, "I mean, as long as this is just a bit of horseplay... nothing different than playing chess, right? I'm in."

The pair then turn their heads to the remaining member of their newly formed trio, who seems to be in deep thought.

Is Mikasa right? Could this simply be a game to Y/N? One that she would have no problem turning and stabbing him in the back in order to win? Everything Mikasa and Armin have said makes perfect sense, they sound like an awful group of people. But if so, why the hell is Eren hesitating so much?

He resides to closing his eyes and takes a thoroughly deep breath, relaxing his mind for what he can tell is a monumental moment that will determine his experience at Trost Academy. If he accepts, who knows what could go down? Not to mention, he might end up on the IT girl's shitlist. Though, if he declines, Mikasa and Armin would ditch him and then he'd be all alone in this enormous school filled with people who ridicule him left and right.

He can hear them laughing from the distance, condescending laughs that grow distinct the longer he keeps his eyes shut. They were taunting, as if they were testing his will or patience...

No.

Eren does not want to experience humiliation any longer. He hates to feel inferior and for as long as they are still standing, that feeling won't disappear.

Knowingly declaring war, Eren announces his final decision. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

Mikasa's eyes grew darker than they have ever been, and Eren could almost see the snake slithering around in the deep irises that made up Mikasa Ackerman's mercury eyes. "Thanks for asking, I've already got an idea. It's got to do with tonight's game. After all, what's a queen without her throne?"

And as the vindictive girl begins to elucidate her plan, Eren finds his gaze straying to the girl that stood above him moments ago. She's sat at her table at the center of the room, or was it truly the center of the room? Perhaps it simply felt that way. Eren was convinced that no matter where she stood, she would always be the center in his eyes.

He doesn't know if he likes that fact.

She laughs at the way Jean ruffles her hair for the fourth time, berates the boy, and then returns the favor. And Eren can feel his heart crack just the slightest bit as he thinks of what he agreed to partake in. He feels as though if his heart ruptures just a few more times, it'd bleed out. Though, perhaps it will already be too late then, and he wonders just whose will break first.

But, then again, Eren has always been a sore loser.

Tag list: @idreamitski @str4wberrylover @jesus-son-of-god @hoejosblindfold [dm or comment to be added or removed!]

A/N: Happy birthday Eren! My little war criminal ♥︎

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littleeyesofpallas · 4 months ago

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I haven't bothered to go dig up all the surrounding bits of lore to clip out and post right now, but it did strike me a weird that Ukitakes flashback took place in such a nice looking area? The Rukongai are supposed to get worse as the numbers go up and the districts get further from the seiteitei at the center, but we saw the district immediately outside the gates of the seireitei and they were way slummier than where Ukitake was walking around.

It's implicit too that as a folk god Mimihagi should be rooted in a fairly rural or otherwise removed from central society kind of area. Sakahone is district 76, it's pretty far out there. Zaraki and Yachiru's origins were out in 79 and 80 and all we saw of those were piles of bodies and empty grass fields.

But also his original profile says his family is lesser nobility, so even though they could very well still be poor it seems weird that they live that far from the seiteitei at all. If anything it would almost sound more like they took him out into the remote slums just to see Mimihagi, but if they aren't locals then why would they even know about it? I guess Shunsui had heard of it and he's noble family too, but that's the anime giving a mix of Mayuri and Urahara's exposition to Shunsui, so I don't know how much that should really count.

Is there some implicit link to the withered old mummy man that was the original 13th division captain?

#bleach meta #sorta #the loosest shadow of meta

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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CIRCLE HAUNTS | TAKAMI KEIGO (HAWKS)

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, gender neutral reader, no quirk au, horror + suspense, themes of cannibalism, implied / depicted cannibalism, noncon kissing + biting/drawing blood and flesh, intentionally open-ended, institutionalized cannibalism, white collar crime, yandere!hawks, 18+

✮ wc ; 9.9k (??)

✮ a/n ; another comm for the beloved @bitchkiss, thank you for your patience and also for letting me post.

✮ synopsis ; you move into a suspiciously nice house in the shizuoka prefecture, and meet your good-looking and unnerving neighbor. nothing is how it seems.

An abandoned house. Mostly functional in the outskirts of the Shizuoka prefectures in a lived-in district.

On auction for a little less than 7 million-yen. Located in a not quite suburb. Too much land between acres and backyards to qualify that way. All the other houses are within walking distance though, and there’s no shortage of places to go with a fair bit of time and energy.

By all measures, a perfectly good house in a perfectly good prefecture. Even now you’re not sure why it went on sale. You stare at it, outside cream colored with a gate and a cat bowl left on the porch from the previous owner - food gone to dust. Something looms on at the doorsteps, the sun-cast shadows almost as dark as oblivion night. In the front yard are wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

It’s a home, no matter which way you look at it.

But you can’t bring yourself to walk inside.

You placed your bets on this house completely on a whim months ago.

You’d been looking for a house. No that’s not it - it was more that you’d started to look at houses. An important distinction in this instance, because you weren’t looking to move when you began. You wonder if it’s a rite of passage in your adulthood to peruse listings for places you can’t afford. Dreaming habitually of your landlord's body on a cross or of in unit washer/dryers. You weren’t unhappy with your living arrangements when you started doing it, but the longing for autonomy sunk its teeth into you and showed no plans of letting go. So browsing through houses idly, wine-drunk and exhausted, became something of a regular practice.

It was three months ago, during that practice (and after an especially scathing argument with your roommates) you’d gotten drunk and committed your usual routine. Cracked open a wine cooler, took off your clothes until you were down to your underwear, and cracked open your laptop to look at more property listings. That time, with a little more weary bitterness in your heart than all times before.

The search process for Japanese property could range anywhere from uneventful to laughably cruel at any given time. Whether it be listings for upend mansions in Tokyo or worn down one-bedrooms in Osaka. For every house that seemed livable, there were ten or fifteen completely out of reach or in complete shambles.

When you came up on thee listing initially, it felt too good to be true. A house in Shizuoka with lots of yard space. A house with decent upkeep and an even larger kitchen - and nice tatami in one of the siderooms. A beautiful house in a beautiful area, on auction instead of the normal sale. Some people had bid on it - but the pool was still low. Seven million yen was your final bet - the mortgage would only be a little more than your rent. You’d put your name down on a whim. With a laugh.

Laughed yourself unconscious and forgot about it until a month passed. A call from an unknown number to your personal cell.

A call from a realtor. Your name, miraculously, got chosen with the highest bid. The house was yours if you wanted it. You could move in as early as May.

You were convinced it was a scam at first - like any normal person with common sense would be. Immediately rejected. But the realtors assured you over the line that it wasn’t a scam, that the previous owners just didn’t want it anymore. Some kind of emergency. Of course - you didn’t believe them at face value either. So you did some research, went to tour the house, tried to gather information proving the whole thing was a hoax.

But there was nothing you could find even after plenty of internet sleuthing and asking everyone in your life to help you vet. When you mentioned to everyone, not a single person advocated for you staying in the city. Your job even offered to move you to the Shizuoka branch.

It was a good opportunity. There’s a coastal path not too far from where the house is. The previous family didn’t take the cat or any of his papers with him - but he’s friendly from what they say. There’s lots of space indoors and out.

It’s a cheap price, for a good house and you’d probably never get an opportunity like it again.

Something is wrong with it. You can tell that just looking at it now, despite how picture-esque it is on the surface. It’s a beautiful house. There’s even a second story and a balcony. You could plant a garden in the yard and still have space for grilling outside.

It’s a beautiful house.

And something is wrong with it - but you’ll never get an opportunity like this again.

Maybe you’re more of a conspiratorial person than you thought.

You look at the truck you’ve hauled all your things in. Your loved ones have been helping you in moving in the rest of your belongings over the last few months - so what's left is mostly lightweight knick-knacks and essentials. Clothes too. The car is parked along the side of the road with the back popped open for easy access. You shake yourself off your thoughts like you’re trying to banish them.

It’s a beautiful day outside. Early June heat that’s enough to warm but not enough to burn or swelter. The sun beats down on your skin, the sounds of gnats buzzing and the breeze rustling the overgrown fields makes your heart swell. You take a breath and remind yourself it’s a good opportunity. Stretching your arms over your head, your spine cracks. Putting your hands on your hips, you nod enthusiastically, encouraging yourself to try harder.

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off,” You mutter. You pull your keys from your front pocket, planning on opening the door first before hauling the rest in.

The sound of an engine makes you turn your head towards the road. A silver car, something compact - drives along the edge of the pavement. Your expression changes as the car starts to slow in front of the house. Your house. You’re never going to be used to that. Are the realtors coming for a visit? Your move-in date was set months ago, so they should know you’re here.

The car halts to a stop a few feet from your own truck, the tinted windows rolling down to reveal a good looking blonde man. He can’t be much older than you. He lets his arm hang out from one side of the window.

His hair is pushed back and shiny, and he’s wearing a button up shirt and brown pants. There’s sunglasses resting on top of his head. He kind of looks like a douche, but you try not to let first impressions sour your views. You give him a confused look, instinctively backing away as he smiles at you.

“You must be the new neighbor. Heard someone was moving into this place after the Nakamura’s left, but there’s always rumors like that floating around here,” He says, talking so much at once. You kind of have a hard time getting used to him.”But I’m glad to see that it’s true. Gets a little lonely out here if all the houses don’t have people in it. In my opinion, at least.”

You give him a blank stare. He holds out his arm to you through the car window. You have no reason not to take it, and it seems rude for you to decline - so you shake his hand. His grip is firm and assured, golden eyes narrowing into something pleased. You feel a shiver run through you.

There’s something about him.

“Uh, do I know you?” You say instinctually. This catches him off guard. He pauses before breaking out into a laugh.

“I’m Takami Keigo! You’ll hear people call me Hawks too though. I’m your neighbor. My house is..” He points north, “..the one ‘bout two minutes that way. I’m very involved with the community here. It’s pretty tight knit.” He explains to you. It doesn’t reassure you for some reason. You think it’s supposed to. “Is there anything I can help you with? Looks like you’re still moving in.”

You make an expression of distrust towards him but his smile remains unfaltering.

“I’m alright,” You supplement, trying to keep the peace. “I wouldn’t wanna keep you but I appreciate you coming to meet me.”

He looks like he’s considering the words, enough to turn himself around and leave. After a few seconds though, he pulls away and parks his car on the side of the road in front of your house. When he emerges from the front door - his expression doesn’t change at all. His smile is disarming. He’s not a terrible guy to look at - but you wonder what he’s doing so far from the city.

The way he dresses is metropolitan. His shirt is loose but his pants are fitted like their tailored - expensive fabrics that the big suits from your job wear. He’s wearing slacks when he’s not working, and loafer shoes that don’t seem suited for the outdoors. You’re not far enough in the country to be expecting country folk, but the area is relegated to families. Something suburban and simple about the people you’ve met so far, yourself included in some ways. No one like him.

You go with your gut about him and keep a distance.

It might be too early to completely shut him out - and you do want to get along with the people here if you’re going to take permanent residence. Not friendly, but comfortable. You figure it might be less precarious to go with whatever he’s interested in. He’s not going to harm you in broad daylight, not when he’s dressed like that. And you’ve already had so much apprehension since you’ve moved - you’re almost hoping there’s something you’ve overlooked about him. Something to assure you’re just engaging in some self-sabotage about everything.

You soften your posture and put on a business smile. There’s a ghost of something - intrigue maybe, but it’s gone before you catch wind of it. You wonder if you imagined it.

“Well if you insist, but I don’t want to leave you with nothing,” You offer to him, as charismatic and naive as you can spin yourself. Neither of you seem to believe it, and the whole conversation feels like a sham. But he hasn’t turned to leave in offense, so you keep going “I do have some drinks inside and I’m curious about the neighborhood.”

His grin widens.

“June heat like this is the perfect weather for a cold beer. Would be great with some meat,” He hums noncommittally. You try your best not to let your face crack into distrust. “What do you need? Just some boxes carried inside?”

You nod.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to only make a few trips here and there.”

“Easy peasy. You didn’t give me your name though. Little impersonal, don’t you think?”

You’d prefer he didn’t know it - but perhaps that’s asking too much since you’re letting him move things into your house. You give it to him neutrally, picking up a tote that you can carry along with your keys. Takami picks up your things swiftly. The boxes he chooses are heavy - you know that because of the way they’re labeled. The gesture is effortless though, and you’re not sure if it’s good or bad that you’ve noticed.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, and you do your best to not make a face. When he notices your staring, he tilts his head to one side. His teeth gleam an unnerving white. You can’t get over the yellow-gold of his eyes. “Surprising, right? But I’m stronger than I look.”

He waits for you to walk in front of him. Maybe it’s the paranoia, but it strikes you somehow. How he’s trying to appear. He’s perceptive. You walk in front of him, starting down the concrete path to the front of the house.

“Any reason or are you just a gym buff?”

He thinks about how he’s going to reply, but doesn’t meet your eyes to look at you when he does.

“Got into a lot of fights as a kid so I had to get strong. Something like that.”

When your eyes meet the second time, you can tell he’s seeing what you’ll probe out of him. Wanting to know what questions you’ll ask.

“Rough childhood, then?”

Bullseye, if his reaction is anything to go by. He hums and chuckles, still carrying the boxes. You fidget with your keys, the door sounding with a faint click as you push it open with the weight.

The lights are all turned off. It’s not your first time seeing the house - but the first time seeing it furnished in full. For weeks you’d been putting your furniture in it, and putting food in the fridge to make moving in smooth. All the other times you’ve been inside, you’ve never felt one way or another about it. Living there wasn’t actualized for all those months - but looking at your things, new and old, makes it all feel real.

It’s a moment too intimate for a stranger to bear witness to and you think he’s probably well-aware. He doesn’t say a word, just observes you from the corner of his eye. When you come out of whatever trance you were just under, he whistles.

“Nice decor,” He compliments - a fair attempt at lightening the mood. “Where should I put these?”

“Those can just go behind the couch for now, thanks.”

He listens to you wordlessly, dropping the boxes off. You watch the light of the sun reflect onto him. He’s yellow gold. You think your mother might find him good looking. He stands back up and meets your eyes. Piercing, underneath everything. He has marks on the corners of his eyes that give you the impression of a bird. A hawk scoping for something to peck at.

“Two down, about how many more to go do you think?”

“I think 6, give or take. And then some luggage with my clothes.”

“Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course,”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to bring all of your belongings into the house. It’s a short few trips and there isn’t really much small talk for the two of you to engage in during it.

Once it’s over you, you thank Takami for his hard work and reward him with a beer as promised. You’re sure he knows that it’s only formality - but he’s completely comfortable in overstaying his welcome.

The two of you sit on the steps leading up to the front of your house - a cold beer in hand. The sun is starting to hide behind the clouds, and that deep shadow seems to cast once again. Over the both of you this time, and not just on your front steps. You let your nail push the tab of the can open, a soft carbonated hiss sounding as you depressurize it. Takami follows suit. He holds the can up to yours and looks at you before you can drink.

“Cheers to our hard work,”

You try not to balk at him, indulging his odd behavior per your own sanity. He’s aware of your apprehension, but his persistence is almost impressive. Another tight lipped smile. “Cheers, Takami-san.”

You take your first sips in complete silence and don’t look his way for any reason. You need the brief respite of peace to deal with the terrible weight of the pit in your stomach, still lingering. You wonder if his presence is worsening it, or if this is another thing your imagination decides to supplement. The cool liquid and faint sourness of Sapporo ease your mind, if barely. You observe the can in your hand momentarily, pretending to read the label.

He takes a similarly long sip of his drink and then lets out a semi-obnoxious aah. You peer over at him.

“Thanks again for helping with the move.” You say, mostly trying to fill the space with conversation so you don’t have to talk to him more than necessary. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” He says, waving his hand around in front of him. “Like I said, it’s a pretty tight knit community around here. I’ll introduce you to everyone whenever you’re free. They’re good folk.”

There’s something in his voice when he adds the last words. You wonder if you’re overthinking it again.

“Is that so?”

He looks at you, but you don’t meet his gaze. “Mm. A lot of people move out here to get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hard-working folks. Families. It’s good to know them,”

You wonder if you’re being too honest about yourself - but decide that there isn’t anything he could do with the information you’re about to tell him.

“Interesting. I always grew up in the heart of the industrial district, so that’s lost on me. I even lived in Shinjuku for a while.” You offer mindlessly. “A good change of pace I guess.”

“Oh, we’re the same then,” He offers. You want to ask him to elaborate on what that means, but he brushes over it just as quickly “You’ll like it here then. Just knock on my door if you need something.”

He looks at you again that time, some knowing in his gaze. You try not to react in either direction, just nodding your head silently as you drink more of your beer.

“Yeah,” You offer, not looking towards him, “I’ll do that.”

For all the evading you down when you speak to Keigo, it was no lie that you spent most of your life living in the heart of the city.

The hustle and bustle of Musutafu, in the industrial districts of various prefectures - all of that was what you were accustomed too. When you were in your late teens and moved out for the first time - you lived in Shinjuku for two years and worked in the nightlife trying to pay for your tuition.

You would’ve never predicted a suburb for your future. It’s not the environment you know well. You can’t help but wonder if it’s always so… quiet.

In the time you’ve started living in your new home, not much has changed in your daily life.

Your initial paranoia has faded out enough to go about your responsibilities in peace. The previous family’s cat occasionally returns back to the porch, and you’ve started to buy it food just in case it decides it wants to stay permanently. A brown tortoiseshell who is always a little worried. You eat breakfast at the same time, but sleep in later since the Shizuoka branch you’ve moved to is a shorter commute. You still take your daily walks, and sometimes you’ll take some time to visit the coastal path and lay your eyes on the open water.

(The ocean doesn’t feel as comforting as it once did. Maybe it’s symptomatic of your own grievances, but looking at the endless expanse - your throat closes with the fear of it swallowing you along with it.

If it did, who would come find you? So far from everything you know?)

You’re entering into mid June, brushing along the edges of July. The heat is starting to be too much. You can’t stay outdoors for too long without feeling like your whole body is going to melt into the concrete and evaporate you from the inside. The nights get chilly, but the days are long. Humidity makes your skin sticky with sweat, and you’re running up your water bill with just how often you bathe.

Everything here is by all means much more uneventful. Some parts of it unsettle you. The nights are eerily quiet and before dawn breaks, there’s always a thick head of something perspiring in the horizon like fog.

Most days, the only people you talk to in person are your co-workers. Your friends live back in your hometown, so you only see them on weekends. Same with your family. It’s just you, and some after work dinners.

But mostly you.

And Hawks. You call him Hawks, in your head and Takami when he speaks. But Hawks feels more apt.

Hawks, seemingly, does not care what face you show him. Nothing stops him from showing up at your door at one time or another - always before you’re going on your walks.

(You want to ask how he even knows your schedule, but you doubt he’d give you any straight answers.)

And he doesn’t leave. You don’t think he would, no matter how rough you were about telling to fuck off. How demanding. You don’t want to confront him out of self preservation. It’s not easy to tell him to fuck off for some reason you have trouble placing. When you normally would, when it’d normally be so easy. You do it at your job all the time, to men much more important than him.

When he comes by, he hangs at your gate and never crosses the threshold to enter. He won’t move unless he’s invited in. You give up on being nice. If you offer him a glass of water, he’ll always agree just to see your expression change. He’s polite to make you uncomfortable. Says please and thank you, and makes conversation with you like he’s interested. An amalgam of reasons that you don’t like his company. Inescapable kindness that lends itself to plausible deniability.

What do you do for work? Oh, what’d you study for? Where are you from? Where are your parents from?

You never want to answer his questions. But he stays, lingers longer if you don’t. He archives the information, you’re sure - but you don’t know what for.

He knows what he needs to know. You live by yourself and your family is farther away. But he always wants to know more, always lingers at the gates - waiting to be let in despite how tight you’ve got your fingers on the lock.

You try not to involve yourself with him more than necessary. You avoid him if you’re walking around the neighborhood for any reason, and you never ask him about himself. He never tells you about himself either - but you can’t be sure why that is. If it’s for your sake or for his.

You try not to get used to him, but it doesn’t surprise you to see him just outside of your door. Sun pours over him in white rays like melted iron, but he’s the same as always. Same smile, same golden eyes, same unnerving expression.

He waves at you politely as you let your bodycon bag hang off of one side - a single headphone in as you look at him. You don’t bother smiling.

If it bothers him, it doesn’t show on his face.

“Hi neighbor,”

“Hey,” You reply, walking closer to the gate. It’s almost routine, but you try your best not to get used to it. No point in getting comfortable. “You’re here again,”

He laughs good-naturedly. “I am. Good to check in, no? Don’t want you getting lonely out here by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,”

He laughs again, but he sounds more sincere.

“Going on another walk? You should be careful in this heat, you know. Take care of your body and everything.”

“I’ll be fine,” You offer, standing in limbo and waiting for him to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

“So cold to me,” He quips. So he does know. “Hope it’s a nice little workout for you.”

You sigh as you make more small talk, mostly tuned out of whatever he’s saying.

“Got any plans for today, Takami-san?”

He pauses before smiling to himself. He lets his arms cross over the metal of your gate, but doesn’t flinch when the heated edge touches his bare skin. You wonder about it, go to ask - but he’s talking again before you can.

“I do, actually. Gonna go into the shop today and get a new fridge,” He tells you, his grin bright and unusual. You’re surprised. He never tells you anything about what he’s doing, no matter how casual. Nothing more than whether he’s working or not. “I’m out of room in my old fridge, so I’m upsizing.”

“Out of room?”

You ask before you can calculate the correct move. It’s a slip up, you both know it. His smile widens just barely, nodding his head and closing his eyes.

“Mm. Ran out of space. A lot of mouths to feed.” He says, and opens one eye playful. “A lot of people live with me. Too big of a house to leave everything all empty.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh my roommates?” Hawks says, and you nod. His smile gets bigger. “They’re kind of a rag-tag bunch. Not sociable like me. I can always bring them to meet you - if you’d like.”

“No need to trouble them.”

“But you should get to know the people who live here a little better,” He insists, finally backing away from your gate. “It’s good to be familiar with your neighbors. I’ll try and direct people to you. Word’ll get out faster that way,”

You go again to protest, but he cuts you off a second time - seeming faux apologetic about your upset.

“You should come over for dinner next week, too. Meet my roommates. At 7 ish, we should all be together. They’d love to meet you,”

You meet his eyes and wonder if his invitation is as deliberate as you assume. When you peer into them, you confirm that it is. He’s not forcing you. You’re sure that if you rejected him now, he’d return to the way he was. He might fake being hurt, but he’d still visit you at your door. He’d still linger, still be there. He’s inviting you in on purpose. Dinner with his roommates is a less than casual affair - and nonsense for your relationship.

It’s a bad idea, and maybe a trap. You’re almost positive of that.

But if you did go - it’d confirm things. You’re positive of that too. You’d know for sure if you were being paranoid, if you went into that house that looks just two minutes away and saw the inside of it. You feel your heart pump through your body as the sun moves away from the clouds. There’s no longer a shadow cast on your face. Just pure, blinding heat.

You shield your eyes with your hand, all too conscious of the heat crawling up your back and the tightness forming in your stomach.

“Sure,” You reply, noncommittally - trying not to show too much of any one feeling. No advantages. But you feel like you’ve already lost. “I’ll see if I can make it,”

“See you then, neighbor,” He waves, finally turning to leave. “Looking forward to it.”

He’s true to his word on multiple fronts. Which. Doesn’t comfort you.

An official dinner invitation, and more importantly - sending out the other neighbors to come and meet you. He’s made a point of making good on both vaguely threatening promises.

Like your old living arrangements, you don’t go out of your way to talk to anyone here. You’re busier in the Shizuoka branch (though you like it there) and you find that there’s more daily upkeep with the new and improved space. Plus it’s mostly family folks and retired couples - no one you have any business speaking with for more than five minutes. So you’re not really going out of your way to socialize.

You never planned on being buddy-buddy with any of the people who live in the area, anyway. Acquainted and friendly at best.

But in these last few weeks, folks from all up and down the streets have arrived at your doorstep bearing all sorts of gifts. Fruits and desserts and other housewarming things they think you'd find helpful. They come so often even you have a hard time refusing them, though you’ve wormed your way out of any of them coming inside of your home or crossing far-past the threshold of the gate.

On the surface, they’re good folks like he described them to be. There’s no distrust to the conversation, nothing they want to wield against you.

But something's off. And isn’t that always the case here? You’re starting to feel like you’re repeating yourself. Stuck in a loop, some kind of odd deja vu.

It’s two things you notice. They’re both minor, but they bother you.

The first is the way they describe Hawks.

Nothing but good things. Which makes you sound like a bitch, even to yourself. But it’s weird. The kind of kindness that doesn’t feel real. Empty praises like a helium balloon. Last week one of your neighbors described him as benevolent and his wife agreed whole-heartedly. Each time you wonder if you’re thinking too much about it. Benevolent isn’t a word you’d use to describe anyone you like, no matter how well acquainted.

You know people as charismatic as him so you know that it’s something people do. He’s a good guy, but you don’t know him so you say empty, kind things. Still, it bothers you. And it’s like they say. A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.

It’s uncomfortable that no one shows any sign of disagreement about how kind he is. That there’s no hesitant glances or country gossip. That not one old lady has pulled you in for gossip and wine. There’s no character. No humanity.

It’s backwards but there’s too much harmony. In the people, in the weather, in the road - paved perfectly with no cracks. Everyday of June since moving in has been nothing but blue, cloudless skies. A bright vivid sun concentrated into one shape, heat casting the illusion of waves. No June rain to water the gardens or wash off the dusty roads. No lightning storms that send all the animals howling, no winds strong enough to dust a city into the sea.

It’s not nothingness. There’s something to that at least. If it felt abandoned, it might feel less unsettling. An abandoned place is a familiar one, a memory from your hometown. An abandoned place usually means that someone lived there before you. At least ghosts are the promises of people, even deceased.

Is there something more nonexistent than a ghost, while still being material? You don’t know what that would be.

Hollow but not empty - the skeleton of a suburb. Like something has been carved out of it and replaced. Unnatural, man-made. It never fails to make all the hair on your neck stand.

Then there is the other thing.

Well it’s a stretch. Even you can acknowledge that it might just be coincidence. But nothing here feels like sole coincidence except for the fact you’ve been unfortunate enough to end up here.

A lot of people in town have… injuries. Particular ones. The elderly couple up the street has a lost leg and missing pinky between the two of them. Of the few other people living alone here - all three of them have some type of it - a part of them completely gone. A lost eye or arm, or visible scars along their sides like something’s been … cut out of them.

You know how it sounds. Even to yourself, you’ll reprimand your imagination. It’s not something you can discern meaning from, not something to draw conclusions from. This is Japan, a Japanese suburb with little kids playing in fucking mud and wild strawberries and bushes of ivy.

Maybe the people who retire here are veterans, or maybe Hawks has some kind of charity.

Maybe it’s something not sinister, because what else could it really be?

You keep trying to convince yourself that this time it really is your paranoia. Because even if you examine that, try to unravel - what does it leave you with but more questions?

You want answers. Need them so you stop tossing and turning. But even if you’re to get answers, you aren’t sure if you could trust them. You trust your gut - yourself and only yourself.

You know something is wrong, but just how wrong do things get before the point of no return?

But you can’t help living here if something is wrong. As wrong as you think. If it doesn't go away, what then? What happens to you? Neighbors keep meeting you and people keep being injured and tight-lipped and hollow eyed. Something is always waiting for you in the dark.

You want to get ahead of it, no matter how fucking sick it makes you. You have to know or it'll swallow you up.

You just want to put the whole thing to rest, and get answers. You’d take fake ones to placate you if they were believable, you’d take anything to get your fucking mind off of it.

But the longer you stay, the longer you live at the edge of the road, the longer Hawks waves to you as he passes by your place - makes you feel like you can’t rest until you know.

You need to know for sure.

It rains.

The day he invites you over for dinner, just two minutes down the street - it rains. Harsh, July rain that sounds like it’s running against the ground. Thudding as it floods the streets and turns the Earth to mush. You couldn’t have expected it. It’d been sunny in the morning, but it’d all gone gray outside while in the office. And then it got darker and heavier, like nightfall early.

You were soaked on public transport on the way home, tracking mud into your front door as you walked along the grass back to your own home. You had enough time, at least - between getting home and going over to shower and sit down.

In the two hours of your arrival from the office and your invitation - you pretend for a while that none of it is happening. You read on your couch and pet the cat you didn’t adopt. You listen to music and pleasantly paint your nails up until you have to get ready, because you don’t really want to get ready.

You’re being dramatic. Or you’re not. But you don’t want to go. You don’t want to know what happens when you get there. You think about canceling. Taking a raincheck because of the weather. Feigning an illness for your not-cat.

Something is wrong with this place, and it’s bothering you. But you don’t know if you’re prepared to find out what.

You decide to go, because the other option is remaining in the dark. You could tell him that you want to reschedule, but just like you trust your gut on most things - you get a feeling this is the only window you’ll get to find out anything important. Like if you do it another day, you’ll get the same hollow facade as always.

So you dress yourself slowly. You take an umbrella, and lock your door shut. You even say goodbye to that cat that isn’t yours. You’ll make it back in one piece but something will change once you go. Both of these you believe with full conviction.

But you go. You go.

When you get outside, you open your umbrella up and put it over your head - walking out past your front gate and onto the sidewalk.

It’s not a lie that Hawks is the neighbor closest to you. He lives within walking distance, less than ten minutes from you. The neighborhood is more compact closer to his place, your own house being more isolated - the first house when cars turn the corner.

You don't know what the house looks properly, only what it's like vaguely in shape and color. On the walk there, it’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. You stare at it aimlessly as it comes into your vision line.

It’s obscenely big. You don’t know how many people are living inside for that to be the case, but it sticks out. Even in your time in the city, you’ve never seen a house that size just out in the open, so protruding. It feels invasive.

You feel something forming in your gut as you start to approach the gate. It doesn’t look so different to yours.

Clearing your throat, you approach.

In the clear distance is Hawks, in front of the open door like he’s waiting for you. It’s still light outside, but the weather makes everything dark. The warm light pouring out of the open door casting shadow onto the concrete above it. Hawks runs to meet you at the gate to open it, not bothering to grab something to cover himself with. The rain soaks his head, makes his hair fall a little flat.

There’s a girl waiting by the door with him, younger than you both - who’s looking at you with a wide smile. Her teeth are sharp like fangs. You can see them from afar, and better as you get closer.

Hawks is quick as he unlocks the latch for you. He pulls the gate back and ushers you with his hands on your waist. Instinctually - you hold out the umbrella to cover his head. He gives you a smile as he leads you through to the front of the house. The rain feels like it gets heavier as he does.

When you’re underneath cover, you’re rushed into the foyer of their place before you can think twice.

The door shuts behind you, the noise of the rain muffled. You miss it and you want to go outside again. You look at the door as it shuts, and the girl with him closes it and looks at you.

She’s cute. She has to be a student, but she looks nothing like Hawks. He walks over to her and pats her head.

“This is Toga. She’s the youngest of us. She won’t be joining us for dinner ‘cause she’s going to see her girlfriend, but she wanted to see the new neighbor.”

You give her a passive glance. She smiles at you.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” She drawls the end of the word, then looks you up and down. “Hawks keeps talking about you all the time,”

“Aw, c’mon now Himiko-chan, don’t embarrass me in front of our guest,” Is what he says, but he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “Take your raincoat and umbrella. Say hi Uraraka-san for me,”

“Uh-huh, I will. Bye-bye,”

You watch her get dressed for the rain and turn to leave. The brief sound of the rain returns and you’re all but too aware of how much you want to turn back from whence you came.

Hawks takes your jacket for you. His voice guides you to putting your shoes in the rack, telling you where the house slippers are for guests.

You’re not particularly trying to listen, but you’re out of your own body. The muffled rain thunders, cries out - makes you jump in your own skin. Lightning flashes through the whole house.

He looks at you bemused. “Just a little rain,”

“Right,” You reply, itching to get control of yourself “Been such a clear summer, so it spooked me,”

“Are you off put easily?” Hawks asks. You close up your umbrella and hang it against a wall “You seem like it,”

You shake the water off your face and neck and shake your head. “Not particularly. Just not used to living here yet.”

He nods sagely. “You’ll get used to it. But enough out of me, I’m here to introduce you to my roommates. You’ll have to forgive their curiosity, especially Touya.”

Curiously, Hawks doesn’t proceed with his usual testimony and fair. He doesn’t tell you that they’re good people, like he normally does. Just smiles, coyly, and gestures you to the corner of the hall.

From the kitchen on the other end of the foyer, you can hear sizzling and cutting - something being hacked away with a butcher's knife. Hawks waves your thoughts away as you turn your head towards it. “That’s Kurogiri. He learned we were having guests so he took up cooking. He’s the best at it, and I’m pretty decent. Himiko too.”

“Oh, that’s kind. What are we having for dinner?”

He stops to look at you. He holds his stare too long.“Meat. With some sides and rice, of course. I think it’s steak but Kurogiri doesn’t like western sides. You eat meat, right? You mentioned wanting to barbecue,”

You hesitate. Something slips in his face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. You nod. “I uh do meat. I try not to lately, to save money.”

He laughs. “Well, we have plenty to go around. Please eat as much as you like,”

You frown at him.

“...Thanks for the offer,”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t make a punchy quip, or have a fresh joke like normal. Just nods aimlessly before giving you another familiar business smile.

“Lets not keep ‘em waiting,” Hawks offers, as he walks you into the basement. The darkness at the end of the stairwell puts a familiar gnawing in your stomach. “I’m sure they’ll want to meet you sooner, rather than later.”

They’re not what you expect.

His roommates. You’re expecting people like him. Metropolitan, overly friendly types. You’re expecting people he gets along with well, and some of them do.

But they’re nothing like Hawks at all, not even close.

Most of his roommates remind you of the kids living on the street during your life in the industrial districts. Rag-tag bunches who got in trouble with the law frequently, always in and out of the penal system.

Of his roommates, Shigaraki is the most antisocial. He doesn’t say anything when Hawks drags you to his room. Hawks doesn’t seem to be expecting anything either, but he does ask if the former will join you for dinner. Shigaraki looks you up and down, then laughs for the first time, and says not tonight. Hawks shrugs and moves on.

There’s Twice too, and he’s kind. Of them, you think he’s the nicest. He’s the closest with Toga. A bad past, he’s fond of Hawks (though you can’t be sure Hawk’s is fond of him.) Apparently he has some kind of condition and disorder, he tells you candidly - but he’s not unpleasant all the same. At the very least, he doesn’t offset some baser instinct to run far in the other direction.

You meet Magne, an older girl and another man who doesn’t tell you his full name. Hawks calls him Compress, but he introduces himself to you as Sako. He tells you he won’t join you all for dinner - holds your hand, places a kiss on the back of your palm as an apology. The gesture weirds you out, but you try to keep the peace.

Hawks tells you he’s a performer and you believe him.

The last person you meet is Touya.

Touya is interesting. He has thick scars along his face and neck, burn marks - but he’s got a handsome face. Hawks seems most hesitant to introduce you two, but they room together. You want to ask if that’s necessary, given that there’s so much space in the house but refrain.

When Touya greets you, his grip is casual and firm. He mostly seems disinterested, except when you’re in closer proximity to him.

Enough for him to flash you something pitiful. Something knowing, something… like he’s condescending you and pitying you all at once.

He’s the one, of all of them, that leers at you the most openly. He assesses you, polite in his introduction before turning to Hawks. They communicate something to each other wordlessly and you don’t like any of it. After whatever that had been, Touya simply turned to examine you, shrugging as he agrees to dinner and slinking back down into his room.

After a while, you go back downstairs. Hawks doesn’t tell you anything about his living space. Just sits you in a living room and chats with you until dinner is ready. Chats hollowly about the same pointless dialogue fodder he always does. He stares at you with each word, and you try your best to ignore the shivering it incites.

He’s relaxed with the charade here, but he keeps it up exceptionally well irregardless.

Nothing is strange in a way that makes all of it strange. The rain pounds against every window like it’s begging to be inside and the doors sometimes shake when thunder claps. But nothing is wrong in a way you can prove. His roommates are nothing like you thought they’d be, and only serve to prove that you know even less about him than you might’ve assumed.

He’s quick, on all fronts, to brush over any questions.

Whatever you want to know about, Hawks won’t let you. But it’s not out of secrecy. If he could tell you to be patient without spoiling your little game, you’re sure he would.

The pit of your stomach only grows heavier as the evening continues. Even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant your increasing distrust. Nothing feels as it seems.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Kurogiri calls you all to have dinner.

Hawks send you into the dining room alone.

The walk into the dining room feels like it goes on forever. The hallway remains dark. At the end of the tunnel is a kitchen. A brightly lit dining room with warm lights and a table that seats many people. On the table, there's a bottle of sake and glasses. A pitcher of water with lemons cut into it, and plenty of sides.

On display though is meat. A lot of meat. Meat you can’t identify any one way, and that doesn’t smell like any other meat you’ve ever had. Hawks mentioned steak, and you can’t be sure it’s not that. It just doesn’t look like it from this distance.

The tables are all set-out, and there’s a steak on each plate.

Kurogiri is polite when he greets you.

“Oh,” He says, thinking to himself. “You must be the guest. Sit here. Keigo insisted I sit you next to him,”

You’re startled, but nod your head. “Nice to meet you, Kurogiri-san,”

He shakes his head. “The pleasure is all mine,”

You sit at the far end of the table, and let Kurogiri pour you a glass of water. The rest of the housemates start coming into the kitchen. Magne, and Twice, and Touya mostly - along with Hawks at the tail end. He comes around the redwood table to join you. He sits at the very head while everyone sits in what seems to be their own assigned seats. Touya sits directly to your right. Kurogiri sits at the opposite end of the table, glancing at Hawks.

“Master Shigaraki won’t be joining us?”

Hawks shakes his head. “Said he wasn’t. You can always bring him something to eat.I can take care of your guest.”

Kurogiri pauses, then looks at you. He shakes his head. “Just be careful, Hawks.”

“Have some faith in my hosting skills, Kurogiri,”

You watch on in silence as Kurogiri fixes things in a tupperware. Master Shigaraki?

“Sorry about the delay!” Hawks offers, all of a sudden. You look at the plate in front of you, and all the bowls alongside it before looking back towards Hawks. “Thanks for joining us for dinner. Please eat as much as you like and consider this our formal welcome to the neighborhood,”

Touya laughs hard beside you. “Laying it on thick aren’t you, Keigo?”

He replies in his unflinchingly calm voice. Touya must really get under his skin though, because you can hear his demeanor crack just barely. “Just being welcoming. Wouldn’t kill you to take a page out of my book, I don’t think,”

“Enough bickering,” He supplements, throwing his hands up. “Let’s eat,”

There’s a resounding itadakimasu around the table before the sound of cutlery begins to scrape against the ceramic plates alike.

For the first time all night, you check into your body and stare down at the plate in front of you. It feels like all your blood is rushing to your ears. Your heart pounds, blood thrumming through your nerves as you examine the plate. There’s a cut of meat on it, tender with herbs - and a side of rice and pickled vegetables. The ceramic plate it’s on is red, a deep sort of maroon. Painted birds decorate the sides along with thin leaves and branches. The other cutlery is nice. Heavy stuff, nothing cheap. Even the chopsticks have good weight.

You feel out of body as your hand reaches for them, swallowing thickly and not looking up at anyone for any reason. From the corner of your eye, you see Touya who seems to be watching your every move. Hawks doesn’t pay you any mind. You wonder why he’s doing so deliberately.

You use a spoon to help pick up rice. You eat the vegetables plain. It hurts to chew and swallow even though none of it’s dry. The lemon water you drink from the cold glass cup doesn’t soothe your throat.

The blonde glances at you. He reaches towards the sake bottle and cups circling the centerpiece of the decor and hands you a glass. “This’ll warm you you,”

You look at him, and briefly at his plate. He hasn’t touched the meat yet. You take the glass from him and sip in long drinks until you reach the bottom.

But the feeling doesn’t leave you. You wonder if you’re imagining it.

It’s meat. Beef, from what they tell you. You look up to see Twice across the table, tearing into the flesh with his teeth - and something inside your gut churns hard. Your focus is unbreaking as you see it. Teeth sinking into flesh. The outside a golden brown but the inside raw and red, fatty and bleeding. Twice’s plate pools with what looks like blood. Steaks bleed, you know that.

And everyone is eating comfortably, like nothing is wrong. Except Hawks. He has yet to cut into anything. He mimics you. He’s waiting for you to eat first.

“You should eat first,” He goes as far as telling you. His smile gleams. Pearlescent white teeth, golden yellow eyes, blackness in his pupils like oblivion. “Feels a little rude as the host.”

Fuck. Something is wrong. It’s screaming at you. The sound of scraping and chewing and swallowing becomes a cacophony as it grates on your mind. You try your best to be unaffected and drink more sake. You keep your voice calm.

You won’t panic. You can’t panic. You steel yourself.

“No no, please - go ahead. I’m a little tired so I don’t feel like chewing, is all. It’s fine, I promise.” You offer, then stare at him. “Eat.”

He looks at you surprised, and Touya laughs besides you.

He shrugs though, and eats. Unconcerned with you, with refined manners and well practiced etiquette. Hawks is polite when he eats.

He cuts through the thick hunk of meat with a sharpened knife in precise, even squares. He’s an expert at it. You watch as the outside cuts open. Underneath the brown is tender red. Bleeding red. It’s practically raw on the inside, blood spilling out from the open slices. It has that soft texture of raw meat. Hawks uses his chopsticks to grab the piece, and it yields underneath the pressure - squished between the ends.

You watch as he chews it. You watch carefully.

There’s delight in the act of eating. He savors when he chews, slow and deliberate and when he swallows - he seems especially pleased. His expression changes after the first few bites, repeating it over and over. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“It’s good you know,” Hawks hums, looking at you so deeply you feel suffocated. Flying close to the ground to pin you right when you’re least expecting, how typical. It’s so like him it makes you sick. “You should give it a try,”

You clear your throat.

“I will. I uh, I do need to use the restroom though.” You say quickly, trying not to heave. “Where would that be?”

Touya snorts. “Down the hall on your left.”

Before he can get a word in edgewise - you bolt. You nearly knock the dining chair over with how swift you carry yourself on your legs. You run, speeding off towards the bathroom. Grabbing the handle you nearly slam the door as you hurry yourself inside.

Your chest feels tight as a sense of nausea overwhelms you, mixed with some morbid sense of relief. You were right. You were right about everything.

They’re taking body parts - this much you’re sure of. You can think of what they do with them. Selling them is a lucrative business. But eating them? It’s a level of depravity so far beyond your scope - you can’t help but feel nauseated.

Your hands grip the linoleum sink as the fluorescent lights of the bathroom flicker overhead. Your complexion has gone pale with disgust. Your stomach feels especially tight, soured. It’s almost painful how sick you are. Sweat drips along your back and into your shirt - all down the crown of your head. White knuckling the edge of the sink, you stare into the linoleum and take deep breaths trying not to fucking puke.

You’re in too deep. You were weeks ago. Maybe the minute you clocked that something was wrong about him, like you’ve seen past a carefully set-up illusion.

By rights of the illusionist, it’s only inevitable that he comes after you. You either die with his secret or become part of his magic act.

You don’t know which things he wants more.

By the time you steady your breathing at all, you hear the bathroom door click open behind you.

You nearly scream.

Hawks closes the door behind him. The enclosed space of the bathroom makes your chest ache, as you back into the sink. He looks calm. You ready yourself to run.

His eyes no longer shine. They’re almost dull, copper in color as he stares at you with a lazed smile. It’s like the mask has all but shattered. Leaving you two in this cramped, airless, stale room. Your stomach clenches, muscles tight with adrenaline. You think of all the ways out, but Hawks leans his weight on the door to keep you from running.

“Relax,” He offers, no longer pretending. “I won’t hurt you. And you’d rather not get the attention of my housemates, I’m guessing,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking—you eat people?”

He smiles. “You know, it’s pretty clever of you to figure it out. Most folks here are too stupid to see through it, but you noticed right away. I was really interested in that when we first met,”

He stands up straight, readying himself to approach you.

“Stay the fuck away from me,”

He leans against the door and puts his hands up, but not because he’s trying to appear unthreatening.

“It’s a good gig. Cheap property, more people move in, more business. When someone proves loyalty, they get a cheap mortgage and live for a small price. Up until now, no one just moving has been able to get out of it. Except for the family before yours. Still feel sorry about that one.”

The dread that washes over nearly has you throwing up. You dry heave. Hawks smile only grows.

“But you noticed right away, which was interesting. So I started getting intrigued by you. I wondered how far you’d go to find things out, and it was farther than I expected. It’s good to be clever,” Hawks offers. He steps closer to you this time and you go to defend yourself, grabbing something from the counter to hit him with. You find nothing. “Not so good to be nosy. But you couldn’t help yourself, huh? I like the spunk, at least.”

“You’re a monster,” You say and you mean it.

“It’s a house full of them. I’m just the spokesperson. And this is a lucrative business practice. My colleagues aren’t the social type, so I handle all the HR. I can’t have some newbie who just moved in fucking the protocol,” Hawks hums, tilting his head at you. “In a way I’m helping you,”

“Helping me? How in the fuck are you helping me?”

It’s a swift movement where Hawks pins you. You go to move, to hit him - to scream. But Hawks is fast. He’s strong, and completely swift - and when he grabs you to pin you to the sink, you’ve never felt more completely helpless in your life. You bite his hand, but he looks at you steadily. Cold.

“No one will help you even if you scream, so don’t scream,” Hawks reprimands, almost bored. “Cops don’t come here anyways. I would know.”

He pulls his hand away from you.

“What do you want from me?”

Hawks looks surprised then laughs.

Before you can protest any further, you feel the grip on your arms and body tighten painfully. Hawks ducks his head down against your throat, and in one motion bites. He bites hard. You can feel it break the skin, and that time you scream. You pull away, but his teeth scrape and scrape and scrape till you’re bleeding.

He sucks the blood and licks the flesh, like someone might eat bone marrow from a carcass. You can feel it then. He’d devour you into nothing if he could - while you’re still all pieced together. You look at his mouth when he pulls away, covered in your blood. Some of the skin he’s taken off, just barely. Your whole body feels feeble as he goes again to lick up and clean the sensitive wound.

Your knees feel weak as he pulls away. Your blood is on his mouth. There’s surely more on his hands. You feel sick all over again. You’re gonna throw up.

“It’s simple what I want,” Hawk’s says, and then narrows his eyes at you “I like to play with my food before I eat it,”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no way I’d let myself wait around here to be killed.”

“Who said anything about killing, stranger? Just eating. It’s good practice to eat. We’ll eat together. We’ll eat each other. It’s romantic, don’t you think?” Hawks hums, hugging you to him. And it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time, for exactly what he really is. “Eating together is a basic facet of a healthy connection.”

“A healthy connection? You’re insane.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m in like. Different things.”

You try again to pull away, but remain stone still in his arms. For now, there’s no escaping. But you thrash and thrash and thrash. It comforts you.

“I’ll never take it lying down.” You tell him, as seriously as you can.

He gives you a smile. It’s pearly white. It’s unnerving. It’s genuine. Your heart feels heavy as the weight and implications all sink in. Oh, he’ll chase you - if it means getting to eat you alive.

Thunder strikes the house. The walls shake. July is unwelcoming and gloomy.

But Hawks’ eyes shine yellow gold like a false sin as he looks down at you in awe.

“I’m looking forward to it, neighbor.”

#cannibalism cw #noncon cw #yandere cw #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #sorry if there are . still errors

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callsign-dexter · 1 year ago

Text

Flirting with Risk 18+

Request: Okay, I might have the idea of another sequel of Gossip and Glances where Antonio sometimes gets really touchy at work and always tries to be close to you.. but you also fear that you get in trouble with Voight but he surprises you by saying he already knows about you and that it's fine as he knows you do a good job. So Antonio continues with his behavior and at home he can finally spoil you in all the right ways ? 🥵🔥

Pairings: Antonio Dawson x Intelligence!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

Masterlist

First Installment: From Colleagues to Lovers

Second Installment: Gossip and Glances

Third Installment: Flirting with Risk

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent this in! @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms here is another smutty one for you!

You and Antonio have been dating for 3 months now but to you it felt even longer. Everybody at work knew that you two were together because of him wincing when he leaned up against the back of his chair and hissed. The men pried it out of Antonio and the girls pried it out of you when they dragged you to the locker room. The only person that didn't know, or at least you thought didn't know, was your boss Hank Voight. When nobody was around or it was just your coworkers you two were pretty handsy but the minute you heard Hank you both straightened and acted like nothing happened, although when you looked over to Antonio, he just smirked at his computer screen and you rolled your eyes but smirked as well.

Recently though he has been flirting with risk and to be honest so have you but he was the worst. It was one time during a briefing that he was the worst. He stood extra close to you and his hand would occasionally pump yours and you did it right back. Antonio slowly moved his hand across the desk and onto your back at first that didn’t bother you but when he got down to your ass and he lightly slapped it which made you jump a little and squeal not expecting it, you covered it with a cough “Are you alright Y/N?” Hank asked you and you nodded.

“Sorry it was just a little tickle. Please continue.” You said and he nodded and turned towards the board and you briefly turned your head and glared at your boyfriend who was just smirking and eating up the attention. You turned back to the briefing but caught the eye of the girls who were smirking and you rolled your eyes but continued to listen.

“Antonio and Y/N I want you to go and check out the coffee shop owner.” Hank said and you both nodded and then he gave everyone else their assignments. Antonio and you went to your desk and grabbed your things and he opened the gate and held out a hand signaling you to go first which made you smile and as you were walking by, he patted your ass and you turned and looked at him with a glare. You quickly hurried down the stairs with him behind you. When you both got in the car you smacked him on the arm and he jerked back.

“Aww what was that for?” He asked and you looked at him in disbelief as he rubbed his arm.

“That was for almost getting us caught!” You shouted at him and he smirked.

“You liked it though.” He said with a smirk and started the engine.

“Yes, I did but we have to be more careful. We don’t want Hank to know.” You said and he smirked.

“How can I resist when you look so damn irresistible?” He asked as he stopped at a stoplight and leaned over and kissed your neck but gently nibbled on it and it made you moan. You just happened to look up and the light was green.

“Tonio light green.” You moaned out and he turned away from you, you whimpered when he pulled away but he needed to focus on the road. His hand came over the console to hold yours and you gladly accepted it. Meeting with the coffee shop owner was quick and easy and surprisingly you got a lot of information and then you were headed back to the district. Nobody was there having still been out and you made sure Hank wasn’t there and when you confirmed that he wasn’t you grabbed Antonio’s belt loops and pulled him over to you as you leaned on the desk. Your lips met in a feverish kiss and then your tongues were battling for dominance and teeth were clashing against teeth, his hands went to your face and into your hair. It would’ve gone on until he ended up taking you right then and there but a throat clearing made you stop and turn to the top of the stairs. Kevin, Adam, Kim, Jay, and Erin were standing there smirking.

“Oh, don’t stop on our account.” Kevin said and got a hit to the chest but Kim. You were blushing like mad that you got caught but Antonio was smirking like he was proud that you two had gotten caught.

“Get a room.” Adam said

“Don’t tempt us.” You said finally finding your voice and everyone laughed as everyone scattered to their desks, you went to your desk and began working and Antonio came up behind you and watched you work since. He was super close, close enough you could smell his cologne the both of you talked about the case and getting input from your team members when you voiced your findings. It wasn’t very long until Hank was coming up and you were pushing your boyfriend away but he stayed close. You always feared that Hank would find out and then there would be consequences. Hank walked into the bullpen and you pushed Antonio away secretly. He walked back to his desk and began working.

It had been a few hours and you wanted, no need, something to eat and drink so you went to the break room. You were bent over looking through the fridge when you felt someone behind you and then hands on your waist, you knew who it was. Lips quickly found yours as you grabbed some food that was in the fridge and walked over to the counter, you moved your neck to the side “What are you doing, sexy?” He asked in your ear and you turned your head and gave him a kiss.

“Getting something to eat, handsome.” You said when you pulled away. “We could get caught.” You said as he kissed you again.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He said but then there was a knock on the door and you once again knocked him away and turned towards your food while Antonio turned to the person leaning on the counter.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t Hank.” Jay said as he walked into the break room. “You two are flirting with risk.” He said and then you turned towards him, taking a bite of your food.

“I keep telling him that but he won’t listen.” You said and elbowed Antonio in the stomach and he let an ‘oof’ Jay just smirked.

“Just be careful you two.” He said and you nodded and then you were walking back out to the bullpen while Antonio stayed to talk to Jay, he watched you walk away with a smirk on his face.

It was in the middle when Hank appeared. “I wanna talk to you two.” He said then turned to walk into his office and you looked at Antonio with a scared look on your face and he shook his head and walked over to you.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m right here with you.” He whispered and you nodded. You both walked into Hank’s office as the others watched with smiles. Hank was leaning on his desk, arms crossed as you both walked in and stood in front of him like kids who got caught stealing something, your head was down and hands interlocked with each other and Antonio was standing close to you.

“I know you two are together.” Hank said and your head shot up.

“You do?” You asked and looked at Antonio with a shocked look on your face and he did to then you looked back and Hank and he nodded.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He said

“How?” You asked, still trying to process everything.

“It was easy. You both are coming at the same time if not a second to a minute after each other, when it used to be 1 hour after each other. You both defend each other. You both protect each other and yes, I know your partners but this goes past just being partners. You both stand closer to each other during briefings. Also, you both disappear pretty much at the same time.” Hank said and smirked when your mouth fell open and Antonio had an unreadable expression on his face.

“How long have you known?” Antonio asked

“Since the day you both showed up at the same time and Y/N was wearing your hoodie.” Hank said “Just as long as you both keep it professional you can stay together but once your love life starts interfering with your work then we'll be having a totally different conversation.” He added, " Understood?” He asked you and Antonio, both of you nodded.

“Understood.” You both said at the same time and Hank nodded. You both walked back out and Kevin was the first one to speak up.

“So…. what happened?” He asked

“He knows.” Antonio said “But that just means that I can be loving to my girl now here.” He said and hugged you from behind and gently squeezed you. You shook your head and then you both got to work although he kept his antics up and now that Hank knew you started to get handsy yourself and Antonio ate it up.

When you were done for the day, you were ready to go home and finish what you both started. “You guys coming to Molly's?” Erin asked.

“No, we're going to stay in.” You said and she smirked.

“Don't have too much fun.” Kim said and you threw a paper ball at her and she ducked while she laughed. You grabbed your stuff and then joined Antonio at the top of the stairs and began to descend down them.

“Have a good night you two.” She said with a smirk and you flipped her off. You both walked to Antonio's car silently and got in.

“Now he knows and we can do anything we want.” He said gripping your chin lightly and kissing you.

“We have to keep it professional, Tonio.” You said when you broke away from the kiss.

“We will, when others are around but when they're not then you're all mine.” He said and you smiled and nodded he had released your chin.

“You're all mine too.” You said and kissed him “Now let's get home and maybe we can continue this.” You said with a smirk and a wink. He pulled a face and groaned then before you knew it you, he was speeding out of the parking lot and towards his apartment.

When you arrived at the apartment, he was quick to park and you both hurriedly walked in and got on the elevator. You pressed the all too familiar number and once you were sure the doors were closed you were quick to kiss him. It took him by surprise but he quickly followed the kiss. He was quick to turn you around so that your back was on the elevator wall. “Jump.” He said in a husky voice and you quickly did as you were told. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. “You're so beautiful.” He said when he pulled away and looked you in the eye. Then you brought his lips to yours as the elevator dinged. The kiss broke and you looked over to see you were on your floor. He didn't put you down, he instead walked with you clinging to him and went back to kissing you, you could feel how hard he was through his jeans and you had no doubt that you were soaking wet.

“I need you, Tonio. Need you so bad.” You said as he stopped at his door and dug out his key and he broke the kiss to be able to see what he was doing.

“Soon, Baby. Soon.” He said and unlocked the door and pushed it open then he shut it with his foot and locked it blindly. “Can't wait to get you out of these clothes and see all of your sexy body.” He said against your neck and you clenched around nothing and you moaned. He walked to his bedroom with you wrapped around his body and still having a heavy make out session. Antonio gently put you on the bed and then crawled up your body after having removed his shirt and pants leaving him in his underwear that was tented with his erection and you could feel your mouth water. You would love to get your mouth around him but he had other plans as he started to undress you. When he was done you were completely naked and exposed to him and he sat back on his knees and just stared at you.

“Like what you see?” You asked and that damn smirk popped up on his face.

“Absolutely.” He responded and he was quick to shed his underwear and have them join the pile on the ground. He didn’t waste any time by giving himself one pump and then he was hovering over your body. You could feel him at your entrance. “Remember to tell me to stop if something isn’t right.” He said and you nodded and then he was slowly pushing into you, both moaning at the same time.

“Fuck. Feels so good.” You moaned out as he halted and letting you adjust. After a minute you looked at him and nodded “Move.” You said and he obeyed. He set a slowly steady pace filling you just right and hitting you in the right places and the all-familiar stretch was perfect.

“Fuck, always so tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna marry you one day and pump a kid into you, our perfect little family.” He said not knowing what effect it had on you. All you did was moan as you started to close.

“Faster, baby. Faster.” You said and he picked up his pace. “Feels so good!” You screamed out not caring who heard “Wanna have your kids and be your wife.” You moaned out, head thrown back and fingers digging into his shoulder blades and slowly making their way down his back. Antonio hissed from the pain but didn’t stop.

“I’m close, baby.” He moaned out and as his thrusts started to get sloppy.

“I’m close too.” You said he dropped his head into the crook of your neck and you could feel his hot breath on your neck. His grunting and moaning were bringing you to the edge. “Cum with me.” He said as one of his hands came down to your clit as the other stayed by your head. He started to rub your sensitive clit and you felt his thrusts become even more sloppier. His head went down to your breasts and started to give them attention equally.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned out a warning and that just seemed to make him pick up speed. That rubber band in your stomach snapped and you were cumming hard. You heard him moan out and stilled and you both came together. As you both came down from your highs he slowly pulled out and watched his cum leak out of you and smiled and then fell on the other side of you. You both just laid there. “You really mean it?” You asked him, looking at him.

“Hmmm?” He asked

“About marrying me and making me a mom and you a dad.” You said reminding him. He turned to you and propped up on his elbow.

“One of these days.” He said and you smiled.

“I would love that, you know.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you.” He said and kissed you.

“I love you too.” You said and then you both got under the covers and fell asleep cuddled together thinking about what the future has to hold. You couldn’t wait to marry him and be the mother to his kid.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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dat-town · 29 days ago

Text

the things we see in souls

Characters: Hyunjae & female reader

Setting & genre: Alchemy of Souls au, fantasy, childhood friends to strangers to lovers

Summary: It’s been 10 years since you last saw Jaehyun. Now seeing him again is like meeting a stranger. But what if his arrogance is only a mask to hide his scars and affection?

Warnings: canon-typical violence, monsters, blood, wounds, scars, Hyunjae is quite cocky, verbal and physical abuse from his father, wording/mannerism is not historically accurate, arrange marriages are a thing here, mutual(?!) pining

Words: 10.5k

Author’s note: spin-off to the things we lose in fire but can be read on its own, even without seeing the kdrama too

@lily-blue a year and half later but here it is. i had just as much fun writing this as the Sunwoo one, so i hope you'll enjoy it too. (also see how it's almost 11k?) wishing you all the best for this year too from the other side of the world! <3

It had already been 10 years since you last saw Jaehyun.

You had both been on the verge of turning from careless playful youngsters to the type of adults your parents had wanted you to be, so he had been taken to the capital of Daeho to be trained to be the best mage of your generation under his uncle’s care while you stayed back in the Seoho Fortress to learn about the medical use of herbs to the best of your abilities.

In your memories he was all mud and carefree laughter, mischievous pranks like pulling on your braided hair but a helping hand when you had to climb over walls too high. You had been kids, all innocent and not knowing better, so why is it that now, finally grown into the young woman your parents could be proud of, you feel childlike excitement just thinking of seeing him again. It must be nostalgia, you tell yourself, it cannot be because of those gossips that had made their way down the sea all the way from the busy city to the forest-nestled town of yours.

Jaehyun had certainly gained a reputation. Son of a trade company owner nobleman and nephew of Seo Yul, Jeongjinrak’s leader. The Seo family from the Seoho Fortress might not have had blue royal blood in their veins but they were relatives of the former Queen, so they were treated as such. Rumors said Jaehyun acted like every bit of a prince, all spoiled and self-confident, even though he hadn’t grown up in a palace. They said that he was handsome and one smile of his could sweep a dozen girls off their feet. They also gushed about him being able to master Chisu, the ability to divide and control particles of water already despite his young age.

It sounded like he had gotten quite a bit of attention and it made you nervous. You could only hope that he would still remember you after all these years, that he would recognize you despite how you shredded your youthful features.

You let out a shaky breath as the carriage crossed the capital city walls and you stuck your head out to see the lively market and the cramped buildings, the ladies walking around in colorful skirts and the jewelleries and sweets sold by elderly at wooden stalls. The sight made you smile and you tried to familiarize yourself with your surroundings, your new home. Soon enough busy roads turned into a path through green forest until you reached the high gates of Songrim. You could practically feel magic crackling in the air as the guards opened the protective doors via a magical key to let the carriage inside the mage district of the town. It was the largest and most powerful mage society of the country led by the Park family and it was an honour that you were chosen as its medical institute’s new apprentice.

“You must be Y/N. Welcome to Sejukwon Infirmary,” Lady Heo greeted you kindly as soon as you got off the carriage and she instructed the staff to take your luggage to your room before she invited you in for a meal. While you listened to her introduce the place to you, you couldn’t help but glance down the bumpy road continuing towards Jeongjinrak and wonder what Jaehyun was doing.

Jaehyun was actually not in Jeongjinrak at the time.

Even though mage scholars were strictly advised to stay inside Songrim and only leave for the city if absolutely necessary, especially after curfew, he had long figured out how to tweak the rules in a way to benefit him. Not to mention, nobody dared to stop him as he was the nephew of Jeongjinrak’s leader. Good thing Seo Yul was busy enough not to check on him too frequently. Otherwise he might have scolded him for sneaking out, not that it would have hindered the guy’s advances much, not unless news of his behaviour reached his father’s ears. But since Seo Yul was his mother’s younger brother, Jaehyun doubted that the man would tell on him, especially not to his father.

So it was more of an open secret that Jaehyun and his friends would make a weekly visit at the Chwisonru Courtesan House to indulge in food that wasn’t brought inside Songrim walls, drink rice wine and entertain the ladies regardless whether they were courtesans or ladies sneaking out just like they did. They were all very much interested in the daily lives of mages even if it wasn’t that exciting, especially since the last of Jinyowon’s escaped monsters had been captured. So maybe Jaehyun made up some stories that earned surprised gasps and impressed wows from the enthusiastic audience. He couldn’t really help it, the urge to stand out, the need to be watched and admired was in his blood. Ever since he was a boy, he had been expected to achieve grand things. Anything less was simply not allowed. Being ordinary would have been a disappointment, a fatherly slap well-earned.

So even if it was all just temporary, his company bought on golden coins, their attention on him only for the thrill and free drinks, it was better than nothing, better than never being good enough. At least the insincere compliments and expensive alcohol on his tongue made him feel less miserable, even if only for a night.

“Is it really true that Kim Sunwoo saved you when the nail-eating mouse was on loose?” One of the girls asked, giggling, clearly having had too much wine with how red her cheeks were and how loose her tongue became. Jaehyun’s hand clenched firmer at the cup in his hands and his mood immediately turned sour as he slowly guided his unimpressed gaze to the silly girl.

“I didn’t need saving. Much less his,” he told her, tasting bitterness in his mouth as his thoughts wandered back to the festival which had turned into chaos due to the shapeshifter monster. If it wasn’t enough that he was apparently no match to the boy born with the Firebird’s energy and his equally annoying priestess sweetheart, rumours about what had happened that night had spread quickly. Way too quickly for his liking even though nobody really confirmed what happened.

“Let’s go. I lost my appetite,” Jaehyun stood up quickly followed by Juyeon and Younghoon without question and he ignored the protests at the table as he left a bag of coins behind.

Outside the night air was still warm from the stuffy day but the cold breeze against his face was welcomed. The journey back to Jeongjinrak would have been much faster with horses but they didn’t bother with them mostly because on foot it was easier to go unnoticed as they slipped in and out through a secret door of the walls around Songrim, their footsteps hidden under the plant litter. They had walked on this route countless times and never got caught, so Jaehyun was taken aback when under the moonlight he heard his name called from the porch of Sejukwon.

“Jaehyun? Is that really you?” The female voice sounded again when he turned towards its source. He briefly glanced at his companions to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating but both Younghoon and Juyeon looked just as bewildered as he felt. He could see Juyeon’s hand move to his sword by his side too as the figure leapt towards them carrying an oil lamp with her.

Jaehyun squinted on instinct when the bright yellow light came closer and prying his eyes open, he saw your flushed face. For a moment, he thought that he must have been dreaming because it couldn’t be you. You were supposed to be miles and miles away. And yet, he would have recognized you anywhere without a doubt. That golden sparkle in your eyes and that cute mole under your eyes. Even if you had grown up, even if it had been a decade since he last saw you, he knew that it was you.

“It’s really you. Good. I thought I was imagining things,” you chuckled in such a carefree manner that for once Jaehyun found it hard to speak up. His chest was burning when he saw that you lifted your hand to curl your fingers around the illuminating medal hung on a silver thread around your own neck, a matching pair to his, hidden under his undershirt. Even without checking, he knew that it was also lighting up, signalling your closeness and suddenly his throat felt dry under your watch.

“Hyung? Who is she?” Juyeon asked tentatively, breaking the silence before it could have stretched too long, his hand still on the handle of his sword and Jaehyun wasn’t sure what to tell. What were you exactly? An old friend? A stranger? A daydream?

He gulped before a smug grin made its way over his lips almost out of habit.

“Probably just another girl obsessed with me,” he shrugged and shared a laugh with his friends before looking back at your stunned figure. He could see the hurt in your eyes then the way it slowly morphed into anger, your hand letting go of the medal, letting it fall against your chest.

“So you really did change,” you hissed, disappointment clear in your voice, before shoving the oil lamp against his chest harsh enough to cause a little pain with the metal digging into his skin. Your eyes looked all gold and fierce from that close, just with the lamp between your bodies and Jaehyun had to remind himself to breathe once you turned on your heels and ran back to the infirmary’s building.

“Woah, you really should be more careful not to anger half of the women population in Daeho,” Younghoon noted while he turned down the path and Jaehyun snorted as his fingers curled around the handle of the lamp.

“What can I say? It’s my charm,” he forced a laugh, following his friend but he couldn’t help but glance backwards, wondering what you were doing in Songrim of all places.

However, soon enough he became occupied with other problems because his uncle was waiting for him in front of his room when they eventually got back to the Jeongjinrak dorms.

“You got a letter from your father,” Seo Yul handed over a yellowed envelope, the wax of their family seal unbroken in the middle, once Younghoon and Juyeon scurried into their own rooms after polite and apologetic bows.

“Huh, then he didn’t forget I exist?” Jaehyun muttered under his nose as he took the envelope, waiting for his uncle to say something else, maybe to tell them off for breaking the rules but the man just patted him on the shoulder and told him to get a good night's sleep before his footsteps turned down the hallway.

Jaehyun broke the seal and read the letter about his father’s visit once before throwing the paper into fire to burn until nothing remained from his words, nothing but ash.

You didn’t even know who you were more angry at: Jaehyun or yourself.

Sure, you didn’t expect him to welcome you with open arms as if you were still best friends but the way he treated that night felt like a slap. It would have been bad enough if you believed that he really didn’t realize it was you and this was how he treated every girl but you were sure that he recognized you. Otherwise his eyes wouldn’t have zeroed in on that medal you shared, your farewell gift from ten years ago so you would find each other later. It felt naive now, you felt naive and stupid, hoping for something that never stood a chance, something that only existed in your fantasies. But was it really that wrong of you to hope that he also treasured your time together and kept you in his good memories? At least he was still wearing his piece of the twin medals but maybe that didn’t mean anything. Was he perhaps disappointed when he saw you and that’s why he was so quick to deny your past? Gosh, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that you shouldn’t have cared, Jaehyun’s conflicted face when he saw you kept haunting you.

“Y/N, careful! The potion is boiling,” Lady Heo reminded you and you snapped out of your thoughts to focus on the cauldron of herbs in front of you before it could have overflown and caused serious burns.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, trying to get your footing again, focusing on your tasks instead of letting your thoughts wander off like they had done ever since that accidental encounter with your childhood playmate and partner in trouble.

It certainly didn’t help that apparently Jaehyun was the talk of the town. Whenever you went out to the market, you heard girls’ whisper about Jeongjinrak students, about Jaehyun’s visuals and whether it was true that he kissed girls breathless in one of the upstairs rooms of the courtesan house. You weren’t even jealous, just annoyed because you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing his name and being reminded of how he had treated you.

No wonder you weren’t exactly delighted when you were asked to join the head lady of the institute on her weekly visit to Jeongjinrak with new supplies but you convinced yourself that the chances of meeting Jaehyun would be low. It was just a quick drop by after all and you were supposed to meet only Seo Yul and nobody else. The institute’s leader was older than his nephew and his features were somewhat softer but you could see the resemblance between him and Jaehyun, especially because you had known his sister, Jaehyun’s mother too.

“Y/N. You have grown up nicely,” he smiled at you kindly as he welcomed you even though it hadn’t been so long since you last met back in Seoho Fortress when he had visited.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head politely before helping Lady Heo pack out the supplies from the bag to the storage room where the man accompanied you. You thought that would be it, you certainly didn’t expect him to ask you about his nephew.

“Have you had a chance to meet Jaehyun?”

“Uhm,” you hesitated, fingers freezing around vials of immunity serums. “No. Not yet,” you lied eventually because no matter how angry you were at Jaehyun, you didn't want to get him into unnecessary trouble.

Seo Yul looked like he wanted to say something else like how you had been close as children but eventually he just nodded and let you finish up quickly without mentioning Jaehyun again. It was a relief, really, because you weren’t sure how many questions it would have taken for you to snap.

You certainly felt close to saying something unlady-like when you caught a glance of the guy anyways while leaving the grounds of Jeongjinrak.

He was walking the opposite direction with a few others, their hanboks in different shades of blue sweeping the ground, carrying an air of confidence and magic with them. Some bowed towards you and Lady Heo without stopping and you did the same, although you couldn’t help your gaze from shifting to Jaehyun’s tall and proud form. His hanbok was the darkest of blue, almost like the midnight you met on. It was lined with silver, just like the double swords on his back. In daylight he looked even more handsome with his fair skin, small nose and delicate features. It was unfair how he had grown up to look like a prince and you wondered whether it was part of the reason why he acted so arrogant. The twin medal burned against your skin as your eyes met briefly and you refused to be the first one to look away knowing that he still wore its pair. But Jaehyun’s eyes were dark and emotionless as he walked away. The burning sensation disappeared with him but the heaviness in your chest didn’t ease up.

You certainly didn’t expect him to seek you out on his own after that but apparently Jaehyun was full of surprises. Literally because you had decided to put the stupid necklace into a wooden box inside your bedside table instead of wearing it as a constant reminder of how little your past friendship, you, meant to him. This way the mage could sneak up on you without you noticing his closeness until you turned around and almost dropped the glass jar from your hands. You let out a surprised gasp when taking a step back in order to avoid bumping into him, you stumbled, almost losing your balance, and if it wasn’t for Jaehyun reaching out to hold onto your waist, stabilizing you, you would have surely made a mess. For a moment too long you were frozen in place, his closeness and touch on you rendering you speechless. He really was nothing like the little boy that lived in your memories. His broad shoulders and the secure hold on the small of your back told you stories of countless practice hours and his eyes now lacked the carefree spirit he had as a kid.

“Let go of me,” you mumbled, both flustered and frustrated, brushing his hand off you with your empty hand. You quickly stepped away and put the jar onto the shelf, busying yourself with checking the others already there. You were just stalling, since you didn’t want to be the one asking Jaehyun why he came. You doubted it was because he felt bad.

“Y/N…” He called your name way too gentle for your heart but you refused to soften so easily.

“Oh, so you do remember me,” you snickered in a mocking tone as you turned towards him but kept your distance. It was just the two of you in the herb room and it was bad enough. Terrible because for the first time since that night encounter two moon phases ago you saw something akin to guilt flash in Jaehyun’s dark eyes before he casted them down but maybe you were just seeing things. “What? Were you embarrassed because of me in front of your new friends? Am I not worthy to be in your circles now?”

“It’s not that,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes but you did not appreciate the gesture.

“What is it then?” You huffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest as if that could be a defensive layer between him and the wild beat of your heart because it wasn’t fair. He wasn’t being fair. He ignored you, he denied knowing you and now here he was refusing to tell you why.

“What are you doing here?” He asked instead, deflecting, as he looked around in the herb room, gingerly touching a bowl of cream you were working on before he showed up. His attitude was seriously pushing your limits.

“Really? Not even a ‘how have you been’?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I should be asking you that because I actually work here. Becoming a healer has always been my dream. Or did you forget that too?”

It felt good, jabbing back at him a bit, trying to make it hurt but it was a losing game because this new Jaehyun was nothing like the boy you once knew.

“Can you stop that?” He snapped, frustration leaking through his words and it made you temporarily content, to be able to trigger an emotion in him. It only egged you on.

“What? Reminding you that you were acting like a shitty friend?”

“We’re not friends anymore,” Jaehyun corrected you sharply, keeping his voice quiet and cold. It silenced you immediately, leaving the room in a tension so thick you could barely gulp. You tried not to show it but his claim hurt more than you would have thought. Maybe you were indeed the only one who treasured your childhood adventures after all.

“Right,” you whispered, voice barely audible, staring ahead aimlessly. You felt something uncomfortable lodged in your chest, something heavy. “Why are you still wearing the necklace then?”

There was no way for you to know that he actually wore it even now without having yours on but based on Jaehyun’s reaction, the way he blinked rapidly, he did.

“I…” He opened his mouth to answer but then closed it without actually elaborating and suddenly you were really tired of this argument. At the end of the day it didn’t matter whether he wore it for sentimental reasons or out of habit. He clearly didn’t think of your connection as fondly as you thought so, hence it was useless to entertain any idea like that.

“Nevermind,” you sighed, wanting to get over it, wanting him away. “What do you want?”

Jaehyun took a moment too long to answer, seemingly mulling over something, but before you could have sent him away for taking so long, he cleared his throat and pulled his fingers across the wooden edge of the desk by his side, a nervous habit of his that apparently he couldn’t shake off since childhood.

“Do you know about the upcoming lunch between our families?”

“Yes, of course. Why?” You hummed because your parents had promised before you had left Seoho Fortress to visit you soon and your father had mentioned that he would like to meet Jaehyun too, to see what kind of man he had grown up to be. Back then you had been excited, happy for the excuse to see him more, for your families to spend more time together just like in the good old times.

But now that you have talked with the guy and how had been treating you in front of his friends, you weren’t exactly enthusiastic about attending but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. Jaehyun seemed to share the sentiment, albeit you weren’t sure about his reason. Not until he added:

“It’s supposed to be an engagement discussion… about us.”

“What?” The shriek leaving your mouth was definitely louder than what you intended but you couldn’t help it. Even the idea of Jaehyun’s claim was ridiculous. Sure, you were at the age to be married off but your parents never really pressured you. They knew how important your medical journey was to you and they supported you without forcing suitors on you. So what was the sudden change of heart? And with Jaehyun of all people? Was it why they allowed you to move to the capital in the first place? Was it all planned?

“My father will propose uniting our families. Just thought you would like to know,” Jaehyun shrugged as he averted his gaze to the open book on the table, his nonchalant behaviour unnerving you even more so. You circled the table until you were across from him and slammed the book closed, successfully earning his attention.

“How are you so calm about this?” You questioned, eyes boring into his. He looked unfazed, almost bored as if he was talking about the weather but you had noticed how his fingers twitched by his side, how he gulped when you leaned closer.

“It’s just an engagement. A lot of things can happen,” he said and the implication behind his words brought burning shame down your spine because you hated how vaguely and nonchalant he spoke. Did he hope that his parents would change their minds and break it off? You knew his father enough to know that there was no sentimentality in his decision, that it wasn’t about the closeness you have had as children. It was most likely because his father had heard about the new success of your father’s shop’s spice and herb export and as a businessman in trade he saw it beneficial. But business could change as fast as the wind.

It left your chest with a hollow feeling that Jaehyun seemed so unbothered about it.

“Just?” You echoed his voice, hating the way your heart skipped a beat at the thought of getting engaged with him before you realized how little he probably cared. It was almost worse than if he had openly hated the idea. “So what? Will you still go back to your courtesans with a ring on your finger?” You blurted out without thinking, without realizing what it would reveal to Jaehyun. He caught on to it too fast though.

“Are you jealous?” He asked with a teasing lilt in his voice, edged with arrogance and a hint of surprise dancing in his eyes like flames. Looking at him suddenly burnt.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you muttered in a smaller voice, lowering your eyes.

“Am I?” Jaehyun asked, taunting. He leaned forward, balancing himself over his hands on the table, coming so close that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. Those dark deep pools devoid of childhood playfulness. The mischief in them now was a little mean, a little too serious. “You had an obvious crush on me when we were fifteen. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Taken aback, you took a sharp inhale, eyes widening at the realization. You had no idea that he had noticed, that he knew that you had been halfway in love with him when he had left. He never said anything and now you were left wondering whether this was the actual reason why you hadn’t met in the last ten years. The betrayal of it tasted like heartbreak on your tongue but you tried to keep as much of your pride as you could.

“Sure. My fifteen year old self would have happily married her best friend but like you said, we are not even friends anymore, we are practically strangers,” you reminded him as deliberately as you could while pulling away, putting some distance between you, so you wouldn’t feel his closeness burn you even without touching. You really couldn’t tell whether your words meant anything to him at all, even if they did, he didn’t show signs of it. “You should leave.”

To your surprise Jaehyun didn’t argue but of course he had to have the last word.

“See you at the weekend, Y/N,” he said as he straightened his back and you refused to look as he turned his back on you, leaving the room as swiftly as he came almost as if he wasn’t there. He left nothing behind, just the turmoil in your heart.

To say the least, Jaehyun wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing his father again. No wonder he so rarely visited home despite his mother’s nagging. Time and time again his father reminded him that no matter what he was doing, it could never be enough and while Jaehyun knew that his father’s inferiority complex when it came to his mother’s royal relatives or how he couldn’t get a seat in the Unanimous Assembly wasn’t his problem to solve, its cruelty was still deeply integrated in his bones.

The young mage wore his best clothes made from fine silk material and delicate embroidery, its color the exact blue his mother favoured, as he stepped into the holiday mansion where they were supposed to meet. He schooled his expression into an emotionless facade and raised his chin high up, proud and confident, as he followed the servant to the pavilion where the lunch would be served. He greeted his parents with a deep, polite bow when he reached close enough. He avoided his father’s eyes while his mother rushed up to him, putting a hand onto his cheek asking if training was hard on him.

“It does him good. He cannot get lazy,” his father interjected before Jaehyun could reassure the woman and he eventually reluctantly agreed. He hoped the attention would shift from him to other matters as he sat down but he should have known better; his father couldn’t miss out on berating him. “I heard you mastered Chisu recently. Took you a while. You should try harder.”

Jaehyun gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to remind his father that it was a rare skill to have at his age, that in Jeongjinrak there were only a handful of students who could master it by the end of their studies at all.

“Yes, father,” he muttered, fingers clenching around nothing in his lap under the table.

“You better not embarrass me today in front of Ryu Bookmin. We need their alliance,” the man warned him and Jaehyun gulped. He could practically hear your voice echo in his ears asking whether it was really just an engagement to him. The truth was: it wasn’t even that to his father, it was just business and Jaehyun knew that he could change his mind any moment. It made no sense to think too much into it.

“Yes, father,” he repeated like a diligent son would because that was the least Jaehyun could do. Growing up he had been constantly reminded that if he wasn’t the only son of the family, his father would have long kicked him out for being the disappointment he was. Just because his birth constellation, that had been dusting on a shelf in Cheongbugwan, wasn’t too promising, because it didn’t foresee him living a dazzling future. Since being average was punishable, Jaehyun had learned early on to cheat if he couldn’t get first place without it. Even if his father never once told him that he was proud of him no matter what he achieved.

Jaehyun let out a relieved sigh when your family was announced by a servant, putting an end to his humiliating conversation with his father. He stood up from his chair, eyes kept on the lavish table until he heard your approach.

The pulsating warmth from the necklace he wore was missing this time too just like the last time he had seen you and he hated how much something so insignificant could bother him. Jaehyun lifted his eyes at your figure after greeting your parents politely and his breath got stuck in his throat indeliberately.

Based on your previous encounters he could already tell how nicely you had grown into a young woman, all pretty and lady-like and while he had found an almost sick pleasure in making you blush last time, he hadn’t fully realized just how breathtaking you were. With your pink-lilac hanbok, similar colored ribbon in your hair and lips slightly reddened, you had never looked more beautiful. And yet, a part of Jaehyun liked that version of you that had messy strands of hair out of your braid hanging into your face, cheeks flushed and eyes burning with something fierce when you looked at him angrily. It felt raw and honest and he hoped only he could see you like that. Maybe that’s why he blurted it out, that comment about your old crush on him, something he selfishly hoped you never forgot. He wasn’t even sure why he brought it up. He certainly didn’t plan to, but you were so defensive, so clearly worked up by the idea of getting engaged to him that it just slipped out. He had always liked teasing you after all, even as children, even if this time around it wasn’t that much of a joke.

“Y/N… so lovely to see you!” It was Jaehyun’s father who greeted you first after exchanging a few overly honeyed words with your parents, putting you into the center of attention. “How is work treating you at Lady Heo? If it’s hard, we can put in a word for you. She’s family, you know.”

What a not so subtle reminder that the Lee family was just as related to the Heo one as the king’s via the Seo blood and she was practically working for one of their own. So typical. Jaehyun tasted bile in the back of his throat.

“That’s exactly why we’re reassured that she’s in good hands,” your father commented all fawning but Jaehyun kept his eyes on you, watching your expressions closely. You never looked his way and he could tell that it was on purpose, probably because of your last conversation. Still, he could see the slight frown on your face behind the forced smile.

“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe we can soon bring our families closer officially too?” His father noted, again not so subtly and both parties chuckled before the food was served to eat.

While the meal itself was quite nice, much nicer than what Jaehyun could get himself at Jeongjinrak or the courtesan house where he frequented, he found it hard to swallow. Based on how little bites you took, maybe you felt the same.

Your parents, mainly your fathers, talked about the journey to the capital, the new trading roads near Seoho Fortress and mentioned both of your studies. They also exchanged opinions on how big of a havoc the monster attacks caused and Jaehyun’s father couldn’t help but blame Songrim’s leader. Despite the neutral topics, Jaehyun could see that your posture was still as rigid as his.

“The world is such a dangerous place,” your mother shuddered when the rise of black market trade for cursed objects was on topic before putting a hand over yours, patting it gently. “It’s a relief that Y/N has an old friend here in Songrim. I remember how keen on Jaehyun had been to protect our daughter even when they were kids. Like that time, when that antique vase was broken, he took all the blame.”

Jaehyun forced himself to smile at the meant-to-be compliment despite clearly remembering the beating he had gotten from his father that day. It had been better that it was him than you.

“I owe up to my mistakes, madam,” he said, his throat scratchy.

“A responsible young man,” your father noted and Jaehyun could see where this was going. Knowing about it beforehand didn’t change much about his ambivert feelings regarding the matter.

“I’m glad you think so, Ryu-nim, because we would be happy to welcome your daughter into our family. We all know how fond of each other these two were as children and now they are both of a marriageable age, so maybe it’s time to let their fondness flourish,” his father got straight to the point in that ridiculous vague language he tended to use in his business meetings too.

“I couldn’t have said it any better. Let’s drink to that,” your father suggested and as the youngest ones at the table, both of you and him hurried to pour rice wine into the elders’ cups as they started talking about your future as if you weren’t even there, as if your opinion didn’t matter. Jaehyun had already known it wouldn’t, however not even him would have guessed that instead of a long engagement or at least waiting until he finished his mage studies, his parents would want to hold the wedding during the next lunar month as it was said to be a lucky one.

Wide eyed, he snapped out of his own surprise when he heard the creaking sound of a chair moving against the floor and he whipped his head towards you.

“Sorry, I don’t feel too well,” you mumbled and Jaehyun could see the tremors in your hands as you smoothed down the hanbok material before bowing and turning around to walk into the garden.

“Aw, she must feel faint from the sudden news. All this excitement, it’s only natural,” your mother chuckled and Jaehyun couldn’t tell whether she really believed it or she just said it so the Lee family wouldn’t think that you were being rude.

He barely hesitated though before excusing himself from the table to follow you. He found you by the pond, out of your parents’ view with a hand over your heaving chest.

“Y/N…” He called your name gently, trying not to startle you but you still looked taken aback when you turned to him, looking him in the eye for the first time that day.

“You heard that, right? They want us to get married next month,” you spoke in disbelief and while Jaehyun himself wasn’t exactly thrilled either, he wasn’t sure which aspect of it bothered you the most. Was it too soon? Or that you had no say in it? Or that it was him?

“Yes, because of the angle of stars or whatever,” he shrugged because he wasn’t in the position to protest, there was nothing he could have done to change his father’s mind. If anybody, his father would have beaten his own ideas into his head.

Jaehyun had always known he could never fully shake off his father’s control over him but keeping his distance and doing his best to avoid his anger, he could almost forget about it. He would have never expected that when the day of marrying him off came, it would be you of all people on the other side of the table. It made it easier to act docile and yet, it was breaking his heart. You deserved so much better.

“We haven’t seen each other in ten years, you say we aren’t even friends, but you’re really okay with this?” You questioned, frustration building up both in your voice and movements. Jaehyun half wished you would hit him, then he might have felt less guilty about dragging you down, into a family where his father would judge and belittle whoever was by his side.

“It’s not like we have that much of a choice now, do we?” He asked, keeping his voice leveled, standing still and rigid even when you pushed at his chest.

“I hate it,” you hissed harshly and helplessly, sounding sad and mad at the same time and Jaehyun let you punch his chest to relieve your frustration. He deserved your hatred. “I hate it because I will live in a mansion like this but I will be miserable because you will hate me for trying to tie you down.”

Oh, you were so wrong.

“I could never hate you,” Jaehyun whispered as he put a hand over your closed fist against his chest and held it close. With his other hand he reached out and tilted your head up by tapping your chin, so he could look into your shiny doe eyes. You were unapologetically honest, so he could be too. “Look, Y/N, if I have to marry somebody my father chooses for me, I’m glad it’s you.”

It was selfish, so selfish and ironic, because he had been running away from this for the last ten years. This was the reason why he never said anything about your all too sweet lingering gaze when you were younger. The reason why he never went back to see you. He could see his father’s influence on himself, he could almost feel it tangible beneath the rebellion and pressure in the way he enjoyed winning over others, in the way his main motivation was his own greed and he was afraid that he would become like him one day. And what he feared the most was treating you of all people like his father had done with the people around him.

Moments passed and you seemed calmer, your breathing stabilizing, your fingers unclenching under his touch, all warm and lovely, and Jaehyun thought that maybe things would be alright.

“It’s not that big of a compliment as you think it is, Jaehyun,” you sighed, pulling your hand away and somehow his heart ached missing your touch. “I don’t want you to accept me since I’m good enough. I want you to choose me.”

You had fully intended to walk away after that, after blurting out what exactly had been bothering you about the whole situation. After baring yourself in front of Jaehyun like that but when he had called your name, of course you had halted your steps like the weak girl you were.

“You should wear the necklace,” he had simply said and it shouldn’t have made your heart flutter. It was just a stupid necklace after all but still, it connected the two of you in a way no engagement could.

And here you were sitting over some prescription medicine you were supposed to work on at Sejukwon but your hand was playing with the medal on the long string around your neck and your mind was swimming in memories of that last afternoon. You had walked back to the pavilion after you had left Jaehyun by the pond, blaming the heat and the tightness of your dress for the uncomfortable feeling in your chest but expressing how much of an honour it was that they thought so highly of you. You hadn’t acted up, hadn’t said no because at the end of the day Jaehyun had been right: it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. No matter how much you yearned for love and romance, you were your parents’ dutiful daughter and if they bestowed a practical marriage upon you, at least it wasn’t with a stranger. Your feelings for Jaehyun might have been complex, old infatuation festering, a new wariness forming because he was acting cocky and confusing but you knew that he wasn’t a bad person.

The sound of the siren bells ringing ripped you out of your thoughts and you rushed outside to see what was going on. It was the capital’s emergency alert for any attack and like medics on call, Lady Heo and the others quickly got ready to go to the scene with supplies.

“You stay here in case somebody comes for help, we’re going to tend the injured,” the woman said before she left with the servants for the town, towards the source of the sound.

You couldn’t do anything but wait and it was nerve-wracking like no other. You walked up and down the porch, trying not to think of the worst, of the possibility of Jeongjinrak students being dispatched to the scene as well only to get hurt by whatever enemy they faced.

When you noticed a limping man approaching the infirmary, it pulled you back to the present, quieting your worries temporarily. You rushed towards the man to help him but you stopped in your tracks just a few steps away when you noticed that something was off about him. You had never met a soul-shifter before as it was an illegal dark practice of spirit magic but you immediately recognized the symptoms of a soul-hungry shifter with their cracked, discolored skin and darkened veins.

A scream was scratching your throat as you turned on your heels and ran back towards the house, this time with the soul-shifter behind you, grabbing at you. You almost fell when you ran up the stairs of the porch but managed to keep your balance and put some more distance between you before you reached the food storage room next to the kitchen and hid inside, closing the door behind you. With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you had to put a hand over your mouth to suppress your shaky breaths, any sign of life as you heard the wooden floor outside creak beneath the monster’s weight.

A few long moments passed and you thought that maybe he had left but then a knife cut through the door, breaking it down little by little and you couldn’t hold your screams back as you were afraid for your life. You tried to look for some kind of weapon in the small space around you but you came up short while the door was turning less and less of a protective layer between you and the man every second. His hungry eyes and manic grin was already visible through the cracks within the wooden material.

Then out of nowhere your chest started burning with a comforting warmth and the criminal was ripped away from the door.

“Stay there, Y/N,” you heard Jaehyun’s firm voice and you felt like you could have cried from relief but then a moment later worry hit again as you heard noises of scuffle, pained groans and curses.

Just when you couldn’t take it anymore and opened the door, a dishevelled Jaehyun stepped inside the kitchen. He was in front of you at record speed, his sword dropped at your feet as his hands frantically touched your face, looking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still panting, dark eyes raking over you after his hands slid down and he held you by the arms.

“Yes, I… I am. Thank you,” you whispered and Jaehyun’s tensed shoulders slumped in relief.

You were unharmed but the earlier shock still kept you alert and that’s how you noticed the bloody spot spreading on the mage’s blue hanbok near his stomach area where it was torn.

“You are hurt,” you pointed it out dumbly, trying to process what you were seeing without panicking.

“It’s fin–” Jaehyun tried to protest but you weren’t having it. You pushed him to sit on the nearest surface and that alone made him hiss.

“Take it off,” you told him with urgency in your tone while clawing at his hanbok, not even thinking about the implications of it until Jaehyun laughed no matter how stained his voice was.

“If you wanted me to undress so badly, you could have just said so,” he tried to joke while shredding off the overcoat layer, grimacing at the pain when he flexed his stomach muscles with the movement.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him, flushed all the way down to the ears and impatient because he was taking too long, you reached for the tied ribbon of his silk shirt to undo it. As its two sides fell apart you could see just how much blood soaked his white undershirt. With a lump in your throat you bunched up the material in your hand and pulled it upwards to actually see the wound but then Jaehyun circled your wrist with his elegant long fingers and stilled your movements.

“Y/N,” he called your name more affected than you would have ever thought he would. It made it harder to look him in the eyes but you pushed down the embarrassment and looked at him. His eyes seemed almost feverish. Was it maybe from the blood loss? “Let me do it.”

He eased his hold on your hand and you let go immediately to run off to fetch some clean cloth, a bowl of water and pain numbing cream. By the time you made it back, Jaehyun was sitting where you left him in only his pants with his bloody clothes in a pile next to him. His bare chest was all golden skin and taut muscles under the dangling necklace and you had to remind yourself to breathe, to focus.

You cleaned the area around the wound to get rid of the drying blood. The wound itself wasn’t too deep luckily but it was a long and ugly cut from a knife, so it would definitely scar even if it was treated immediately.

Both of your hands were bloody and trembling by the time you finished dressing the wound, so you didn’t expect Jaehyun, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until then, to touch you, much less intertwine your fingers with his, making you look up at him.

“I’m glad you are okay,” he said, thumb caressing your palm, the touch so intimate you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“How did you know?” You asked, not clarifying what you meant but he understood anyway.

“I didn’t. I just wanted to check on you to make sure you were okay,” he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world and you wanted to scold him, tell him not to make your heart flutter if he won’t be there to catch you when you fall.

You pulled your hand out of his hold gingerly and washed the blood off your hands in the bowl of water you brought before, then told him that you would bring him a clean shirt as the infirmary kept some for situations like this.

When you got back, Jaehyun was with his back to you and stepping closer, your eyes widened at the sight, a choked sound nearly escaping your mouth. His lean form was a field of scars, mostly old, whitened criss-cross ones but a few long thin lines looked new and pink. You had treated people from Jeongjinrak before, so you knew it wasn’t from school punishment, not to mention Jaehyun was from a noble family, so nobody would have really dared to lay a hand on him, not like this. Nobody but his own blood.

“Jaehyun,” you whispered, voice breaking even before getting his name out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

He looked over his shoulder halfway ready to face you but you didn’t want him to turn around and see you like this, so you put a hand gently on the upper side of his back to stop him. You leaned your forehead against his shoulder with your eyes closed and inhaled in his smell, tracing an old scar with shaking fingers for a while without saying anything..

“I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not knowing, for not being there, for being too self-centered to even consider his side during arguments.

When Jaehyun moved, this time you let him, facing his chest, hand sliding to the necklace in its center, the medal warm under your touch just how it was against your own rib cage over the layer of your hanbok.

“Y/N,” Jaehyun slid a hand to your neck just under your jaw, thumb grazing against your chin as he tilted your head up.

Your breath hitched when your eyes met. There was something vulnerable and soft in his usually mischievous or cold eyes, something rare like a precious gem. You could feel its weight pressed against your chest, his touch eliciting a yearning you hadn’t known before. You could feel heat radiating off him as he stepped dizzyingly close and the way his heart was beating under your palm. Your eyes fluttered closed when his lips touched yours, softly at first, barely there, then when you hummed against his mouth, he pressed in closer, almost hungry like he had been holding back for eons.

“Well, that was way too easy, Lee,” Kim Sunwoo said, unimpressed but clearly intrigued about the reason behind the quick win, as he held out a hand for Jaehyun on the ground. The older just rolled his eyes, swatted his hand away and pushed himself up, his ego more hurt than the wound on his side and his bottom that hit the hard floor of Jeongjinrak’s practice room, so he suppressed a hiss.

“His head is elsewhere,” their teacher noted and Jaehyun would have rather not talked about it. His thoughts were definitely not in that room. They were a few miles West, in a messy kitchen where your hand was on his bare, burning up chest and you were melting against him.

“He’s still recovering, let him be,” Younghoon interjected, ever the peacemaker.

“Right, our hero,” Ji Changmin just had to fake coo which made Jaehyun want to throw something at him.

The soul-shifter’s recent attack was the biggest news lately, so everybody was talking about it. About how the monstrous man had caused havoc in the town square and then had headed towards Songrim because its magic had been pulling him in. Jaehyun had already heard multiple versions of how and why he had shown up at Sejukwon to save the new apprentice but he didn’t bother correcting them. At least his father seemed satisfied with his reputation for once.

“Keep it up, Ji, I can take you down any day, even injured,” Jaehyun warned the boy sternly before their teacher decided to call it a day.

The mage students started packing up, going back to the dorms, calling dibs on first shower rights. Jaehyun walked alongside Juyeon and Younghoon like he always did but his mind still went back to the infirmary and to gentle, tentative touches against his skin.

“So Chwisonru tonight?” One of his friends suggested, clueless, and Jaehyun didn’t even give it a thought.

“I can’t. I have to go to Sejukwon for bandage change,” he declined as if the two activities were mutually exclusive. He couldn’t help it. It would be the first time he saw you after that day. After Lady Heo had showed up suddenly and whisked you away to help with the new patients not caring about what she interrupted. After you had looked back at him with kiss-swollen lips and blown eyes while following the woman. After three long days of stupid bed rest thanks to his overprotective uncle’s orders.

So when he unexpectedly saw you on Jeongjikrak grounds while passing through the inner court to the dorms, Jaehyun had to blink to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things and it was really you. But it was, even the medal pressing over his heart confirmed. He halted his steps, following you with his eyes as were carrying a box and Lady Heo was nowhere to be seen. The mage’s lips were twitching into an amused smile when unaware of their presence you not so subtly looked inside the main building through one of its windows.

“No offence, hyung, but it seems like you’re the one obsessed with her, not the other way around,” Juyeon chuckled teasingly, a shoulder bumping into him at his sudden stop.

Whether it was a coincidence or you heard them, the next thing Jaehyun knew was that you turned around and noticed them, awkwardly bowing in their direction with the box held close to your chest. He didn’t waste any time and changed the course of their path, walking up to you, followed by the others like always. Good, because he wanted to introduce you properly.

“Y/N, these are Kim Younghoon and Lee Juyeon,” he nodded towards his two friends respectively, which you followed with another polite bow even if your confusion was clear on your face. Then he stepped forward and took the box from your hands, his fingers brushing yours before turning to his equally confused mage friends. “Guys, she’s my fiancée.”

“What?!”

“When did this happen?”

The reaction was immediate. Juyeon and Younghoon gave voice to their surprise out loud while you widened your eyes and looked at him like you couldn’t believe your ears. It was quite funny if you ask Jaehyun.

“I will walk you,” he looked at you, ignoring his friends’ eager questions and teasing comments in favor of spending a few minutes alone with you now that he accidentally crossed paths with you. You looked like you were about to protest but the guys took the hint and left first after politely saying their byes.

“Fiancé now?” You raised an eyebrow in question when it was just the two of you and Jaehyun’s face lit up with a cheeky grin.

“Aren’t you?”

“Who are you and what did you do with Lee Jaehyun? Did that soul-shifter get you eventually?” You narrowed your eyes at him but he could tell based on your lips curling up that you actually liked this side of him, the one not trying to push you away. It was clear from the way you smiled when you turned away from him, walking towards the storage room, letting him follow you with the box.

He caught up with you easily, arms grazing as you walked side by side. Jaehyun didn’t say anything and you seemed content with the silence as well until you reached the building where his uncle and Lady Heo were discussing something. You faced him then, asking for the box back and the guy couldn’t miss the opportunity: he let the wooden object be the only thing between your bodies and leaned down close enough to see you blush prettily.

“See you later,” he promised with a cheeky grin and pecked you on the lips just because he could and because you couldn’t really reprimand him with your boss a thin wall away and hands full after he let go of the box.

Jaehyun was pretty satisfied with himself, thinking that he got you wanting more after giving you that little taste, before retreating back to the dorms to take a shower, explaining briefly (only the very must) to his friends about his relationship with you and then headed towards Sejukwon before sunset. He even sat through an unnecessarily long small talk with Lady Heo before the woman told him that you were in the herb room, so he could find you there. The closer he walked, the warmer his chest got and this time he wasn’t sure that it was because of the medal or something else. When he eventually saw you hovering over some purple flower, trying to extract its pollen, he leaned against the doorframe with a smile that made its way onto his face just by looking at your concentrated expression, that adorable pout on your lips he wanted to kiss off.

So when you finally straightened your back, closing the lid on the little jar on the table, he pushed himself away from the doorframe and hugged you from behind, looking over your shoulder. Even though he couldn’t see your face clearly from this angle, based on how easily you relaxed in his hold, he was sure that you expected him to do something like this after sensing his presence. The thought that you might have wanted him close just as much made him feel dangerously content.

“What’s with you for real?” You asked with a chuckle but quickly made sure he knew it wasn’t an objection as if you were afraid of hurting his feelings. “I’m not complaining, it’s nice… just unusual.”

“Can’t I be sweet to my fiancée?” Jaehyun teased because it might have become his new favourite word. You didn’t seem that impressed by his sweet talk though.

“Jaehyun,” your tone turned almost chiding as turned in his embrace and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

The mage student sighed deeply. He knew your confusion wasn’t baseless because up until that day the most affectionate thing he said was that he was glad you weren’t hurt and that he wouldn’t have minded marrying you instead of somebody else if he had to. And then he kissed you without explaining anything about just how long this feeling had been brewing in his heart. But words weren’t his forte, not like this, and he shuddered just at the thought of admitting outright that he missed you and that he wanted you close.

On the other hand, it was you. You who had seen his scars, both physical and not, and still held him close. You who had seen him as a snotty kid and still wanted him after ten years of cruel silence. You with your shy smiles, fierce eyes and gentle touches. If it's for anybody, he could make an effort for you.

“That day when the soul-shifter attacked you,” Jaehyun started with a gulp, not even wanting to think of your screams that he had heard and that fearful look in your eyes. “I was going crazy thinking what could have happened if I got here too late and I realized I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and a pink hue blossomed on your cheeks before concern took over in your eyes.

“But… What if your father change‒”

“I don’t care. I’m done letting him control my life,” Jaehyun cut you off with a determination he hadn’t felt in a long while. If his father wasn’t happy with him even with him trying his best not to anger him and follow his wishes, then how worse it could be if he actually started doing what he wanted?

Jaehyun reluctantly let go of your waist to reach into his hanbok and pull out the necklace matching yours and put it onto your palm, closing your fingers around it, so you could feel it pulsing in your hand almost as if it was his heart.

“Remember when you asked me why I’m still wearing the necklace you gave me?” He inquired and when you gave him a small, curious nod, he continued: “It’s like keeping a part of my old self, not forgetting who I really am, and I have missed being who I can be with you.”

You smiled so sweetly at his words, your pretty doe eyes filled with so much care and acceptance, that Jaehyun felt like his heart could burst not being able to contain this fond feeling taking over him. It came to him almost like a crushing ocean wave.

“You know how members of the Seo family have a part of their souls kept in a lantern in Seoho Fortress for safekeeping, right? I left mine there before coming here. But Y/N…” He whispered, lowering his eyes to look at your smaller hands in his. Gentle, caring hands that touched him like he was something worthy and loveable. He took a deep breath and looked into your beautiful eyes. “I would give it to you if I could. If you accepted it… me.”

You let out a small sob with wet eyes and Jaehyun couldn’t help a laugh.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry,” he reached for your face to wipe off the escaping tears softly with the pad of his fingers. “Is it that bad?”

“No, it’s…” You shook your head hurriedly and reached for his wrist to hold, his heartbeat loud in his vein against your thumb. “I love you.”

Jaehyun’s breath hitched as he stared at you dumbly, not knowing what to say. So he tried to express what he felt with the way he slowly slotted his lips against yours in a soft kiss. When you smiled against his mouth, he copied the gesture, endeared, and pulled you closer. But as your hands fell to his sides, he tensed up from the pain shooting into his wound and something so small made you pull away immediately as if you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him.

“I should change your bandage,” you cleared your throat, and you surely meant to be professional now that you remembered the original purpose (excuse) of his visit with that weak attempt of yours to put some distance between you but Jaehyun wasn’t having it.

“Later,” he shook his head and leaned in again but you ducked away with a giggle.

“Jaehyun!” You gasped his name half-scolding, half-giggling.

“What? It hurts here, maybe a kiss would help,” he tapped on his lower lip with mischief clear in his eyes and oh how victorious he felt when you let your lips touch again.

In a world full of monsters and black magic, corrupt politics and business matters overruling feelings, he couldn’t promise you forever. But one thing he knew for sure: his soul, even bare and ugly, was safe in your hands and he would do everything in his power to treasure yours.

#the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #hyunjae x reader #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenarios #tbz scenarios #lee jaehyun x reader #stories

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moonmaiden1996 · 5 days ago

Text

Goddess in the Garden

Another Idea going round my head

Rupert had never been one for sentimentality. He had his obligations, his duties, his amusements, but concern? That was for softer souls. And yet, here he was, standing outside Charles’s modest little townhouse, its high walls wrapped in creeping ivy like an old secret. The street was quiet, the crisp winter air carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant chimney smoke. A place like this, so unassuming, felt alien to Rupert—no grandeur, no pretension, just a home tucked away in a city that never truly rested.

Gerald had managed to track down information from the hospital with some well-placed calls and a little arm-twisting. Charles had been discharged the very next day with a prescription for a mild tranquilizer. Panic attack—nothing serious. Taggie, ever the bleeding heart, had been quietly worried ever since. Worrying as gnawing on her bottom lip in that adorable way she did. It was enough to prompt him into action. After all, he had posed for those damned photos, earning him a stern telling-off from dear old Maggie, but the damage had been erased in a day, conveniently overshadowed by one of the opposition being caught romping with a male gigolo.

He rang the doorbell, half-expecting no answer. He would say he had come, make his attempt, and chalk it up to one of his fleeting flights of fancy. When no response came, he turned on his heel, ready to leave. He had done his due diligence and could wash his hands of the whole business, preferably back in bed—with good company. If Charles wanted to wallow, that was his business.

Then he heard voices. Coming from the back of the little home.

A female voice. Clear and familiar.

Rupert, never one to ignore his instincts, edged past the back gate and a particularly vicious rhododendron, careful not to snag his coat. Peering through the carefully maintained greenery, he caught sight of the little O’Hara orphan.

You were seated on a green filigree iron chair, your hands folded in your lap, your plain dress fanning out against the abomination of garish florals that adorned the garden furniture—something that looked like it had been pilfered from a grandmother’s attic. Yet, somehow, it suited you. Your curves were plush, the fabric stretching just so over soft thighs and a generous bust. There was a fullness to you, an undeniable presence, something solid and warm against the stark fragility of Charles, who sat slumped across from you.

Opposite you, Charles leaned forward, his elbows braced against his knees, his red hair unkempt, his shoulders heavy with something Rupert had never quite seen on him before—defeat.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you said softly. “On your own. You could ask for help. There are district nurses, services… you’re not alone, you know.”

Charles let out a bitter laugh, wiping at his face roughly. “I am though, aren’t I?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Mother barely knows who I am anymore, and the only person I ever loved wanted to marry a woman—not me. And Tony—fucking Tony—called me a liability. Demoted me.” His voice hitched, and for the first time, Rupert saw something raw in him.

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “No, I don’t know exactly how that feels. But I know what it’s like to be alone in a room full of people. To feel completely alone in the world.”

Charles scoffed. “How could you possibly?”

“Did you know I have a huge family?” you asked. “Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins, even thirds. When my parents died, not one of them gave a damn about what happened to me.” You let out a humorless laugh. “But the O’Haras wanted to help. Declan was my godfather. He saw a girl who had no one and decided that was enough reason to take me in.”

Rupert felt something claw at his chest. He hadn’t known that. He had never given it much thought, really. You had always been there, on the fringes, a quiet presence in Taggie’s world. A friend, perhaps. A distant relative. Hell, for all he knew, you could have been the help.

“That was kind of them,” Charles murmured.

“It was,” you admitted. “It’s complicated, though. Maud thinks… it doesn’t matter what Maud thinks. It’s messy. It’s not the same, but I understand what it’s like to be so fucking lonely. To feel like you have nowhere to turn. To miss something that’s gone. I miss my parents like you miss your mother. It’s hard. Sometimes, you just need someone to see you. I see you. And that’s why I need you to know you’re not alone. Please, let me help.”

Your voice was soft and sad, and you reached across the table and circled your own hands around Charles’s.

Charles’s sobs echoed across the garden, his figure shaking as his grief filled the space, completely ignored by the old woman dozing in the sun in the furthest corner of the garden, oblivious to the weight of the conversation before her.

Rupert studied the scene, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Charles. Through the obnoxious foliage, he saw you frown, and it didn’t fit your face. It was the kind of face that should always be smiling—not grinning like an idiot or offering one of those sultry smiles women and men flashed him when he walked into a room, but a serene, knowing smile, like those in the great romantic paintings that graced his home. With another round of sobs, he watched you shift, dress hitching to reveal a sliver of thigh as you rounded the table, taking the poor wretch into your arms, soothing him like a mother would a child. Your features were goddess personified, your skin glowing in the winter sun, smooth and warm despite the layers of wool you had wrapped around yourself.

“Let’s get you inside,” you cooed.

“But Mother…” he protested softly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get your mother after we get you settled.”

Rupert flinched. He would help. But he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off you. Like some sort of mythical goddess descended from Olympus to tend to lowly mortals. Rupert’s gaze only tore away as you disappeared into the house.

Cigarette smoke curled upward, lazily dissipating in the cold air as Rupert stared at the polished door. The top of his convertible was down, despite the chill of January. The sun, deceptively warm against his face, cast a soft glow, but the breeze still cut through him, sharp and biting. He didn’t mind it much—his woolen jacket kept the worst of it at bay—but there was something about the stillness that gnawed at him. The quiet was unusual. And it felt wrong. Like something he couldn’t quite grasp was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to make itself known.

He should have left by now. He should’ve driven off and called it a day. But he couldn’t. Something about the scene unfolding before him kept him anchored in place. Charles, pitiful and blubbering, clinging to you as if you were the only thing that tethered him to reality. His tear-soaked face buried itself in your shoulder, desperate, and for a moment Rupert felt a sharp flicker of irritation. But you—you—you were different.

You were calm. Poised. Beautiful even in the middle of this mess. It wasn’t just that you looked good. It was the way you moved. There was a kind of ease to you, something almost ethereal. The way you stood, the way you smiled—real, genuine—not the kind of smile that people give out of obligation. You didn’t try to placate or comfort. You just were. And that made Rupert feel... unsettled.

You weren’t just offering sympathy to Charles. You were offering something more. Something deeper. But what? He couldn’t quite place it. And that irritated him more than it should have.

You didn’t need anything from him. You didn’t need anything from anyone, really. That was clear the moment you pressed something small into Charles’s hand and turned to leave, your body gliding with a quiet confidence, like you weren’t just walking down a street, but somehow commanding the space. Rupert’s eyes followed you, but it wasn’t just your figure he tracked—it was you. That strange, magnetic aura you carried, something untouchable, that made him feel small, out of place, like he didn’t quite belong in the same world.

He hated how much it affected him.

The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to nothing. He flicked it out the window, cursing under his breath, sinking deeper into the plush leather of the seat. He tried to clear his head. Damn it, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. You were a woman, sure. But not like the others. Not like the ones who chased him, desperate and eager. No, you didn’t need him. You weren’t even trying, you didn't even know he was there. Maybe thats what made him so intrigued. A little bit of voyeurism was good for the soul. And that—that—was what made him want you.

He tried to reason with himself, tried to talk sense into the gnawing curiosity that seemed to claw at him from the inside. Women like you didn’t just stumble into his life. You didn’t want him. You didn’t need him. Hell, he didn’t need or want your type either. But here he was, thinking about you in a way he didn’t think about anyone else—intrigued, maybe even a little turned on, but confused.

A line from a Sylvia Plath poem came to him, one he hadn’t thought about in years, but it was a line that had always lingered in the back of his mind. "Pure acetylene virgin attended by roses." That was it. That was you. Untouchable. Otherworldly. A goddess—something that didn’t belong in his world. It reminded him of fleeting moments he had caught of you around the Priory, kind, helpful, but distant. Like you existed in a different realm entirely. And that unnerved him.

It was maddening. He scoffed under his breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care. He didn’t care. He didn’t chase women. That wasn’t his thing.

His thoughts raced, spinning out of control. What would it take to make you notice him? To drag you into his world, even just for a moment?

No. He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get tangled up in this kind of mess. He didn’t chase women, his conquests were a dance of two partners, circling each other.

Maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t hurt to see you again. To invite you to dance.

Rupert clenched his jaw, staring again at the polished door. His mind swirled with the thought of you, the unease building with every passing second. This was ridiculous. He was losing his grip over something he barely knew. He had seen it all before—women with soft smiles, big eyes, desperate for attention. But you? You didn’t need him. You wouldn’t want him. And for some reason, that bothered him. Rupert cursed again, more forcefully now, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. But no matter how much he tried to shake it off, that nagging thought refused to leave. You weren’t just another woman. You were something—someone—he couldn’t quite figure out. And for the first time in a long time, Rupert wasn’t sure he even wanted to figure you out.

#rupert campbell black x reader #rupert x reader #rupert campbell black #taggie o'hara #charles fairburn #rivals #rivals fanfiction #rivals 2024

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desertmousy · 9 months ago

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prompt from: @rabbitbites: modern au where feyd and paul are fwb, feyd wants to be more, but Paul is still trying to get over the loss of his father and breaking things off with chani and they have an angsty make out sesh about it [note: mature.]

The campus courtyard was a busy place. Off-world students enjoyed the splendor of Caladan. Those who grew up on the ocean planet continued to bask in the dreary rain and lush, green surface of the farming district. Paul Atreides had been born and bred on Caladan, sequestered to an estate near the sea where his father once oversaw the political wellness of its citizens. Leto’s death still turned Paul’s stomach. Eight months since the accident, still a wound too raw and festering to ignore.

Rain fell in drizzly sheets across the university and Paul walked through it without bothering to pop open his umbrella. Water beaded on his forehead and streaked his face, but he didn’t mind. He walked past one of the square lecture halls and cut across the lawn in front of the library and then made his way through the iron gates, stepping up onto a damp sidewalk. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

[feyd] you want a beer

Paul typed out whatever you’re having and hit send.

This quarter was almost over which meant Paul would have to start preparing the syllabus for next quarter. There was always an influx of students in the spring, cramming to get seats in prized classes with experienced professors. Paul Atreides, well, Professor Atreides taught a history class specializing in sietch formation on Arrakis, home of spice. And home of Chani Kynes, who would soon return to the desert planet, called back to her upbringing by golden dunes and Shai Hulud. By an unflinching duty to her people. Things hadn’t been the same between them since his father had died. They weren’t technically together anymore, they weren’t officially apart either. She had a key to his loft; he knew the code to her garage. She cooked him delicacies from Arrakis sometimes; he brought her boba and sushi sometimes. They slept together because it felt right. Because they didn’t have much time left and she knew his body, and he knew hers. Because for the last two years, Paul had loved her, and she had loved him.

Losing Leto changed everything though.

It started small, the grief binge, chasing adrenaline. Paul drank a six-pack one night, then a fifth of liquor the next. He went out with one his students after that, railing spice cut with something from Kaitain at a nightclub in the city. That same night, he met someone. Handsome, trouble. In his right mind, Paul would’ve walked away. But Feyd-Rautha, dressed in a fitted black long-sleeve, leather belt cinched around dark denim, had looked at Paul from across the dancefloor. They became fast friends, laughing under bright neon. Paul left with him, found something greasy at a food truck, agreed to meet again another night. Post-work drinks, like the one he was about to have, turned into time spent at Paul’s loft, watching a filmbook or cooking together, talking about the band Feyd-Rautha was in, one he couldn’t seem to get off the ground, or meeting at Feyd-Rautha’s apartment to play a boardgame or catch up. They commiserated about lost family. Feyd let Paul listen to unreleased music and Paul waxed poetic about the Known Universe. The first time Paul kissed Feyd-Rautha on the mouth at a nightclub, his mind had been glittering with spice, bloodstream tainted with whisky. They’d fucked in the bathroom like clumsy teenagers, Feyd’s palm rucked up Paul’s shirt, Paul’s pants pushed to his thighs, Feyd trapping him against the stall, chewing at his throat, and Paul spending at the first breath Feyd sent coasting along his earlobe. In the morning, they vowed to never do it again. Two days later, Paul showed up at Feyd’s apartment, sober but lonely, and Feyd didn’t turn him away.

Since then, for a handful of months, Paul Atreides and Feyd-Rautha met to talk, drink, fuck, read together, kiss lazily on the couch, share meals, fall asleep. Feyd was Paul’s friend, in a way.

Paul shouldered through the door at a small dive bar near Feyd’s apartment and took off his coat, draping it over his arm as he approached a dingy booth across from a dartboard. Feyd sat with his eyes on his phone, flicking through social media. His fair skin was warming as winter gave way to spring, but nothing could completely chase the milky glow from his complexion. He wore a leather jacket, one Paul had seen many times, and glanced at him as he fell into the booth opposite him.

“Got you a red,” Feyd said, knuckling a frosty glass toward him.

Paul nodded. “Appreciate it.”

“You go to therapy today?”

He took a long drink. “Can we not — "

“So, no,” Feyd grumbled.

“I don’t need grief therapy, I’m fine.”

“If a therapist opened a textbook right now and pointed to potential grief therapy client, your face would be on the page.”

Paul shifted his jaw. “I’m figuring it out on my own.”

Feyd-Rautha furrowed his naked brow and gave a single nod. “You following Chani to Arrakis?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Yet.”

“Feyd…” Paul heaved a sigh and took long pull from his beer. They’d talked about it before. The idea of them. Usually drunk, usually in bed or tucked away in the dark. But they had talked about it. And Paul knew, despite Feyd-Rautha’s stoic demeanor and cold exterior, that he wanted more than what they had. More than friendship pushed to the brink of catastrophe.

The longer Paul used Feyd like a coping mechanism, the more entangled they’d become. Paul knew that already. He’d known that since the start.

“Look, I can’t…” Feyd paused to breathe. His jaw slackened and he talked with his hands, knuckles flexed, long fingers bent oddly to match his mood. Frantic, anxious. Angry. “I won’t keep doing this, okay? It’s not good for me, it’s definitely not good for you.”

“Yeah, and what’s good for me?”

“Sobriety, probably,” Feyd deadpanned, gesturing to the almost empty beer. “Stability. Therapy. Enough sleep.”

“And what if I don’t want you to be good for me?”

Feyd snapped. “You think I don’t know how we got here? C’mon, Paul. I’m not exactly your type.”

Paul felt the comment before it came out, barbed and hot. “You’re not, no.”

“Okay,” Feyd heaved a sigh, defeated, and stood. He threw a few bills onto the table and walked away.

Paul listened to the hard pound of his boots on the floor. A part of him, the stubborn part, fully intended to stay seated and let him go. But the part of Paul Atreides who loved how Feyd laughed and curled close to him at night and ate popcorn with him at the theater and panted in his lap was stronger than the grief-stricken young man left in Leto’s shadow. Paul finished his beer and darted after him, catching Feyd by the elbow outside the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, squeezing Feyd’s arm hard. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry.”

“I don’t, actually,” Feyd said, yanking away. He turned down an alley, trudging into the dark. Rain fell a little harder, splattering his leather jacket. He angled his mouth over his shoulder. “What’re you sorry for?”

Paul stomped after him, pawing at his shoulder. “We’re here because I’m a mess,” he confessed, halting Feyd in his tracks. “Because I met you and I liked you and — ”

Feyd whirled on him. His strong hand landed at the base of his throat. He pushed him backward, sealing him against the concrete, and seized his neck, angling his face upward. “And?”

“And you make it easy. This, us, it’s easy,” he said, sighing. “Don’t take it from me yet. Please,” he whispered, craning against Feyd’s hold. “Let me keep you a little longer.”

Feyd-Rautha kissed a fire into him. Paul hardly had time to register he was being kissed at all until Feyd was prying at his mouth, licking between his lips, breathing hard. The cold rain kept falling, and Paul reached for Feyd’s face, cupping his cheek, then palmed his nape, hauling him closer. Feyd’s teeth slipped across his bottom lip. Paul nipped at his mouth, chasing the sensation.

“I might not be your type, but you’re mine, you hear me?” Feyd rasped, biting tenderly on the slope of Paul’s jaw. “You’re mine.”

“I’m a liar,” Paul said, gulping in air before he ducked down, searching for Feyd’s plump mouth. “You’re exactly my type, exactly.”

#dune #paul atreides #feydpaul #feyd rautha #dune fanfiction #paul x feyd #feyd x paul #feydpaul ficlet

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thehistoriangirl · 9 months ago

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Without Compromise [2]

I'm baaaack!!! With porn as a treat for my absence <3

Viktor x Fem! Reader-------4.9K-----NSFW

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

<- Previous /// Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor had never enjoyed any snobby party held in the luxurious districts around the Academy, though he can't deny this one is rather... peculiar. Still, when accompanying Jayce to another boring celebration ends with him stuck in an awkward situation when a stranger wanders inside the lab asking for him, he can´t help but comply with the unpredictable threads of a mocking fate--how else would he, from all the assisting guests, be inside in this mess?

Chapter Summary: Nights are fleeting, just as all the things you do in the dark...

Taglist: @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @slycazzz @vyshnevska

Second

Silence and dimmed lights became guardians shielding you from prying eyes, perfect accomplices and only witnesses of how his hand perfectly fit against interlaced fingers once you led him away from the crowded dance floor. The gates of the exit shone with their golden handles, and Viktor was so ready to feel the characteristic tug of regret like a knot against his throat once you pulled them open, thief of his controlled breathing.

Yet, all he got was the growing lust burning deep inside him once his fingers already memorized the curves of your supple hips—knowing that they’d be even softer once you blessed him with the unrestricted touch of them without the fabric hugging your legs.

His golden gaze swept over your sweet form; such a beautiful fairy that had now enchanted him with your twinkling eyes and delicious mouth. Was it a response of the alcohol he’d been indulging in to stop boredom from creeping?

Perhaps. Though his mouth worked just fine, as he tested it while pressing your back against the rail of the staircase, body tilted over the edge for his arms to become your safety. Futile attempt to melt in with you, as it seemed distance was a cruel thing, to dare get between you two.

You cooed a restrained moan against his mouth once your hips rolled away the hard edge of the carved rail, wishing to relish in the supposed softness of his body, only to find an eager hardness that caught his breath.

Viktor grunted once feeling your hand palming him, a contented hum escaping your swollen lips. “What an improper Fairy you are,” he muttered, his warm hand pulling yours away, rough fingers, marked with tiny cutting scars and so many hours tinkering away interlacing against yours, elegant and soft.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to make it back to my apartment.”

“If you keep touching me like that, certainly no.”

Despite your tone denoting shyness, you flashed him a beam that promised him trouble. “I believe we can make it in time if we hurry…”

Such little minx. With the way you jumped over each step of the staircase, waiting him patiently for him to descend. The movement made your body bounce in all the right places, probably the origin of his sudden dry throat.

Viktor had to slow down, not only for the familiar burn on his leg, or because the grab of his cane got shaky and unreliable; but for the strain against his pants, the seam between his legs both painful and alluring on its pressure.

He wondered if your hands could serve the same sensations.

Your sudden squeal tore him away from his daydreamings. Looking down, Viktor saw your figure tripping at the edge of the stair.

Grabbing onto the railing, you shoot him a pout as seeing him chuckling. “You’re mean,” you said, kneeling to see the problem your shoe was facing. Your poor left heel had broken.

“Someone needed to put a stop to you.”

“It should had been you.” Your smile was triumphant despite the circumstances.

Viktor sighed on his best attempt to appear unbothered, the touch of your fingers grazing as if lighting had struck his skin, a pull as if woken up from a long sleep into a gentle spring morning. “Let me see.” He hummed, looking at the part of the heel that had come unglued to the rest of the shoe. “I think I can fix it. Eh, do you know any place that could have nails, glue and a hammer around here, by chance?”

You nodded, flooding his senses with your unmistakable, rich perfume and the way your hand loved to squeeze his as if by instinct.

“I know a place. Follow me.”

By the time you arrived at the glass greenhouse, the light rain had soaked your hair and Viktor was so thankful for how the water had glued the silk dress against your skin. His warms fingers skimmed over your silhouette as you searched for a small beacon in the form of your desk lamp.

Otherwise bathed by silver moonlight, the beacon showed the golden details of your mask, your wet lips as your teeth continued biting them when Viktor knew it should be his to grace that favor.

Fixing a shoe was nothing compared with the machinery he worked with every day; his hands found the unfamiliar tools strangely comfortable, polished wood of the hammer’s handle from the constant use of your fingers; the delicate outline of your shoe against his palm, just as the incredibly thin heel you’d been supporting your poor ankles in.

From the darkness, he saw flapping wings skimming from tree branch to tall bushes, some of those curious little animals drawn to the light of your lamp.

“What is this place?” he said, observing the multicolored moths, yellow and pink, and white and blue all gather over the desk.

“It’s a greenhouse for moth-keeping,” you explained, happily petting one of the bolder moths landing on your bodice. “In each section we have an eclipse of a specific species. They live their last days here.”

“I think I should’ve asked why you know all that?” Viktor sat at the edge of a shallow fountain, the current of water falling gently against the quiet ambiance.

“Oh! I’m a lepidopterist. I study moths.” You rummage on the bottom drawer of your desk covered in stunning drawings of moths. “See?”

From the emotion of the moment, you had forgot to hide your name with the pads of your fingers as you’ve done with your ID number. By the dim interior it was barely visible, with only some letters he could try make sense of.

Viktor was content with the anonymity—no attachments that would conduct to no regrets. He could be his shameless self without feeling the restraint of his public image, of the well-crafted image of gentleman. Behind the image of hard-working inventor.

But the last name rung like an emergency bell. Member of a renown research family in the Biology Department, mostly for exotic species overseas.

“Here it is,” Viktor announced, pride blooming in his chest when the shoe got restored to its former self, white lace flown delicately to hug your ankle, flowers made of cotton sewn into the front to match with the dress.

He looked at you before giving you the shoe, the skirt of your dress brushing his pants as you tried to lift it off. His eyes couldn’t stop the alluring path marked by the fabric, the middle line of your thighs and what such valley waited for him between your legs.

Again, he expected the regret to come in waves; shamefully looking away as he found a pitiful excuse to leave.

Instead, he stood up from the edge of the fountain and knelt in front of you, thanking the soft grass for being kind with his leg. Though he knew it wouldn’t matter. If instead of grass it would be a rock or mosaic or bland dirt.

He felt himself burning that he doubted he’d care if these were alight embers.

The sight was heavenly, being knelt in front of a vision, a goddess of unruly hair shining like an untamed halo, a butterfly mask hiding your features, though he could still saw those eyes that burned with lust and desire. Core exposed to his greedy gaze while he took the sight of your underwear, lace outlining that little, pretty piece of clothing Viktor wanted so badly to rip off you.

He felt his cock twitch inside his pants, wishing to be free. To be cradled into your loving, curious palm. To be taken inside of your warmth, wet folds. Maybe even your mouth…

And all that could occur tonight. Because you wanted him—without caring who he was or what he could do for you. Just for being… him. And he wanted you, so, so badly. And such reciprocation was the push of bravery he needed, taking your ankle with one of his talented hands, the weight of it welcomed on his shoulder.

Curiosity prickled his restless mind. He wanted to know more. Forbidden territory.

You tugged his hair, buckling your hips against his face once his breath caressed the burning skin.

He smiled, beckoning your ethereal being, a dream that would slip off his hands next morning.

He better made your time together count.

His gaze was dark and rich, like addicting whiskey, just as intoxicating as the aroma of your body lotion now all wrapped around him. An enticing embrace he wanted to melt into.

Fingers caressed the supple skin of your thighs, your flesh soft and pliant under his needy, hungry touch. Such a sinew way up your leg, all the curves, from your calf to your knee to the curve of your butt.

And then, between them, the flashing of an innocent, beige cotton fabric.

Viktor smirked at seeing the dark spot leaking from it; perfectly drawn in the middle where your core was.

You squirmed under his playful fingers, hands greedy to gather your skirts up and yet not so much or else you couldn’t see his eyes freezing you in place, like a prey ready to lounge.

To feast.

“Sir…” you keened, his name never making its way to your memory. What would be the point, if everything was meant to end after tonight? His hair was so soft under your hand, nails scratching his scalp as you urged him to continue. He was so close, and you were so sure you’d be too, very soon.

He grunted in half indignation, half aroused at your hair tugging. “You’re going to dishevel my hair, little Fairy.”

“I’ll help you brush it once you’re done.” You helped him, hooking your thigh up his shoulder, until you felt his hot breath hit the soaking spot between your legs, still not ready enough as there was fabric interposing between his gaze and your skin.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you’d have the energy for that,” he teased, only half-joking. Teeth bit your inner thigh, if only to taste your tangy skin, salty and sweet from the lotion, parched with the distinctive, alkali flavor of your arousal.

Your hips buckled closer, and such eagerness made him take lick from that wet spot seeping through your panties. His gaze threatened to close shut, his taste buds overflown by the savor of you against his lapping tongue, its tip wishing to circle your clit even through the fabric.

Viktor would’ve wished to record the sound elicited from your mouth inside his brain, to keep in all the rest of lonely nights he’ll go through, just as his memory engraved the sensation of his nose buried against the throbbing button of your pleasure. Fingers digging at the waistband of your underwear.

You writhed as Viktor’s fingers outlined your ass cheeks, feeling the cold surface of the marble fountain under your naked skin once your lacy clothes got wrapped like a messy ribbon around his skillful hand.

With a single lap, Viktor ended with his chin coated in your arousal, tongue enjoying the soaking wet, plush, rosy skin between your folds. Methodical licks to explore every corner, blowing cold air over your molten core, becoming his experiment; lips sucking your little bud to enjoy how you squealed in surprise. Your body still bouncing and rubbing against his face, enjoying the roughness added for the outline of his black mask.

The greenhouse bathed in silver moonlight displayed you like a work of art, closed off from many eyes as Viktor wished to keep you in his bedroom, with your heaving chest, sweaty body, a muse he would love to have in a print tucked in the pocket on his chest—no, he would get you inside his room, prompted in the wall in front of his bed so you could help alleviate the terrible insomnia that sometimes sieged him.

He licked your clit in different rhythms, always eager in the matter of discovery even when it was about pleasure. Which made you pull his hair the hardest. So, Viktor could be a little mean, his well trimmed nails still leaving crescent marks in the supple flesh of your thighs as he pulled them upwards, the more open the better.

Such pushes would make your walls flutter against his mouth, now marked forever with the overwhelming, luscious taste of ripe fruit and sweetness and the alkaline aftertaste you left on his now puffy tongue.

His golden eyes beckoned you, chest heaving that he thought you’d rip the clothing of your corset. And what a beautiful sight was your crumpled skirt around your heavenly body, like a cloud surrounding a goddess that had come to bestow him with the loving, unbridled touches of passion which otherwise would be fleeting for such a busy and lonely scientist as he was.

“Sir…” you cooed, legs still parted so he could see your pretty rosy walls keep fluttering around nothing, surely glistening just as much as his coated chin. “Let me kiss you.”

Viktor chuckled, using his cane to propel himself up his wobbly legs. Your eyes followed the movement, standing up next to him, which made him frown upon the now lost sight of your beautiful legs.

“Sit,” you hummed, pressing your hand over his chest to guide him toward the edge of the chirping fountain, the only witness of your union. “You should rest.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Viktor retorted, groaning at the claustrophobic grasp his pants were trapping his cock, an unmistakable sight that made you chuckle—such a mischievous sound for someone looking so adorable. It made him want to uncover you whole, a crime that you were hiding under such ethereal costume. “Look what have you done to me.”

Completely stripping him of the decorum asked in this society, away of the otherwise ear-shattering scream of reason resounding on his mind. This could end his career, the one he so hard had worked to build. This would convince everyone that he was a degenerate, a threat for Piltover’s proper society.

Still, you didn’t feel like a threat. Not in the way you so delicately unbuttoned his pants, ignoring the bland white trousers underneath as your nails scratched the bushy trail of his navel to find what you were looking for.

You hummed, gently taking him in your hand, red and hard. It was impossible for him to hold in a groan, sensing his twitching cock against your exhaled sigh, fingers enveloping his shaft.

“Little Fairy…” he could barely mumble, feeling his face bright red. He wished it to sound like a nag, but it was more like a plea.

“You’re big,” you said with a stunning beam, lifting up your skirt and pushing it against his chest, with him still cradled in your hand. “Go easy on me, hmm?”

You sat on his lap, legs innocently swinging in the air as you turned to face him.

Viktor frowned. “Wha—” his civilized words were wiped out, replaced by a primitive groan that had won the fight between reason and need once again. But he just couldn’t. You were so wet and tight, yet inviting, eager to burrow him into the deepest part of your core. Almost as if knowing that otherwise he would leave and never return. “Miss Fairy,” he breathed. “We’re in a public space and…”

“And what?” you said, nibbling down his jawline. Even if he couldn’t see you, he felt your smile. “Are you afraid someone could see us? But why? If you’re pleasuring me so, so well.” You smiled, cradling his face. “It would serve them as a lesson.”

You cooed happily at feeling his cock twitch, your thighs now surrounding his lean hips, not caring that your shoes were wetting wet against the edge of the fountain. Not even the freezing water could distract you from the fire coursing through both of you when he directed your face to kiss you, filling your mouth with the taste of you, with his active tongue ready to play tug-of-war with yours for control.

“Are you afraid of someone knowing that you’ve claimed me tonight?” you said, and even if the words stirred a primal part of him with a pulsating yes, you’re as mine as I’m yours; his reason opened ways over the fog clouding his brain.

That’s what you wanted: an escape. An escape from your imminent engagement, of your family’s and Piltover’s expectations. Just like he wanted to be freed of this city’s asphyxiating grasp; with its snob societal rules that declared he should stand back his ability to help for what they desired.

To be caged and judged like an odd animal in a zoo, soon to be discarded if seemed useless.

Viktor had been selfless all his life, yet so lonely; because it wasn’t a secret that people who liked to give rarely get back. But not tonight.

Tonight he desired you. And he wasn’t going to hold back.

“I’m not,” he said, grabbing your hips under your skirts to help you with balance once his started to move, seeking to reach the deepest part of your pussy, so warmth and welcoming.

You moaned, your hands easing on his shoulders as you started to ride him. Those pretty squelchy sounds barely audible over the flowing water of the fountain.

“Sir… oh, Sir…” you called, the corset of your dress brushing against his chest in a bouncing motion, with Viktor’s hands itching to unlace it and feel the delicate curve of your back, how would you shiver with the mix of his caresses and the feather-like kisses down your neck.

Yet still among the cacophony of his roaring heart and your breathy song, Viktor noticed the odd shadow peeking over some topiaries, recognizing the golden glow of Sylvester’s brushed back hair.

He should’ve felt shame. Fear, perhaps. You’ve been caught, it was over. It had to be.

Viktor bore his gaze toward the shadow in a defying mockery, your words echoing as his hips continued to move, every time more erratically than the last, lost in the warmth of your intimate embrace. He only let your skirt fall down—to cover you, because he was a gentleman after all.

“Kiss me, Little Fairy,” Golden gaze looking up at your ajar lips and half-closed eyelids with reverence.

It should serve them as a lesson, you’ve said, and Viktor believed it. He doubted that bland man over there could make you squirm and coo as he did, to mold you in the perfect sculpture of pleasure.

You giggled, brushing your nose against him. “Always.”

The shadow loomed closer, furious stomps breaking branches and echoing against the cobblestone path. You didn’t notice, and Viktor didn’t care, smirking against your messy kiss, revitalized tongue wishing to memorize every corner your mouth.

“My Little Fairy…” he said, if only for the unwelcomed presence. Kissing down the elegant curve of your neck to leave a bite in the joint between shoulder and neck. “There you go,” Viktor hummed, surprised that you didn’t mind such unnecessary proof of your encounter. “Such a goddess…”

He looked at Sylvester, daring him to cross the circle of light.

So he could see how you deserved to be pleased.

Your body trembled, halting your dance. “Ah—,” you breathed, and Viktor felt your walls squeeze him oh so deliciously.

It had been a while since Viktor had sex. Because he knew using his hand in the shower didn’t count. So he tried to hold in the incessant waves of pleasure sieging him. Biting his lip, closing his eyes shut.

By the next blink, the intruder had disappeared, only leaving a trail of moving branches on its wake.

“Sir…” you called with a giggle. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing…”

“You’re a terrible liar,” you said, leaning to cradle his cheeks with your hands and give him a deep, slow kiss as you started to move sensually, slowly, feeling the soft cotton of his pants brush your thighs, his panting breath crashing against your collarbones that were by now peppered in kisses. “Come on. Finish. I don’t mind.”

“I think you should finish first, Little Fairy,” Viktor leaned your fac to kiss you. “It’s the least a gentleman should do.”

You laughed, voice melting in a choked moan once his rough fingerpad circled your swollen clit, soaked, hot and sensitive.

Your hair tickled the curve of his neck once you burrowed your face against it, your essence all tangled in his as he felt you stiffen under his loving cradling.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he muttered against your hair. “Don’t be shy. Let me see you while you finish.” Viktor took your chin, lifting up to meet his gaze as he took in your heavy-lidded eyes, swollen lips panting ajar, such a deep gaze burning against his. “So you don’t forget this humble lover of yours.”

You smiled softly. “This lover of mine,” you whispered, like a secret, your words gone with the wind once your body shook like a leaf, spams hugging his cock, greedily sucking it even deeper, as if you wished to never let him go. “Sir….”

He kissed your forehead, just above the edge of your mask. “My Little Fairy, you’re truly otherworldly.”

“Sir, why didn’t you finish?” you said once Viktor had to begrudgingly put you away, at this point it was marvel that he could keep himself from exploding. He felt a wave of cold hug him, missing your warmth and softness, though he had to stop his longing hand from reaching you once again.

“I… I don’t…”

“Liar,” you hummed, grabbing your puffy skirt as it was your turn to knelt, looking at him with those deep, twinkling doe-like eyes as your rosy tongue poked his tip, getting familiar with the mix of his precum and your essence.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” Viktor groaned, looking how your swollen lips traveled all over his shaft, giving little kisses and licks along the sensible, throbbing skin.

He could pull you away, and yet he knew it would’ve been his biggest mistake of the whole night.

“Good,” you mumbled. “That way you would remember me.”

He couldn’t form a coherent sentence when you took him in your mouth. But he doubted he could ever forget the twinkle in your eyes that was filled with curiosity and bravery. They were like nocturne wonders, as you, too, seemed to be only appear at night.

Only tonight, his mind didn’t forget to remind him.

Viktor cupped your hollowed cheeks, feeling your tongue lapping greedily, wishing for him to finish inside your mouth.

It was then when Viktor heard—a miracle among his pounding heartbeat and ragged pants—the metal door of the greenhouse squeak open. Followed by steps. Multiple steps.

He didn’t think twice, taking hold of one of your hands, almost grieving the lost of your weight against his left thigh once he pulled you upwards.

You grunted, an utterly adorable pout that glittered in your swollen and wet lips. Before you could discover them both with one more than deserved offended retort, he put his free hand over your lips, golden eyes boring into yours.

“Keep quiet,” he leaned against your ear to whisper. “There’s someone here.”

“Someone that shouldn’t see us together?”

He nodded, grabbing his cane, his hand firm in yours while he guided you toward the opposite end of the fountain. The floor was cold against his flushed skin, having to hold a grunt once he accommodated his cock inside his pants, trapping it inside once more.

This damned luck, he thought, looking how diligently you looked while gathering your skirt so any of it could be seen once the intruders started to walk toward the light.

One thing was to consider breaking the rules without further consequence; and another to drag you both down with them.

He could abandon you, but he wasn’t cruel. Yet he didn’t consider himself careless, to even think to lose everything he’d worked on for something so… banal.

Viktor knew you’d never see him again. That this, as much fun and pleasure as you were having, was just sex.

“They were here,” Sylvester retorted, strides careless now that the dimmed light of the desk had uncovered an empty courtyard. “It was her. The dress was unmistakable.”

The ground was moist from the breeze coming down the pouring fountain under your fingers, the stupid, puffy skirt of your dress pushed between your aching legs as Viktor peeked over the fountain edge to see the silhouettes of what he supposed were your parents. Richly dressed and backs rigid from years of training under the merciless gaze of Piltovan’s wealthiest.

“You probably confused her,” your father said rather angrily. “Do you think my daughter would do something so inappropriate? What kind of parents do you think we are, Mister?”

“I don’t mind any ill comment upon yourselves!” Sylvester tried to defend himself, yet every word uttered sounded worse than the last. “It’s that your daughter… she’s…”

“Be very careful how you talk about my only child, Mister,” your father intervened, the cacophony of the argument growing enough for Viktor to tug your arm and starting to slide toward the formation of bushes. A green, natural wall between the fountain and the wild greenery of the rest of the greenhouse.

“Maybe she was seduced by that vulgar womanizer,” Sylvester added, changing the approach. “She’s young and naïve.”

Viktor’s steps almost halted, your body stopping moving from the nearby exit.

He gazed at you, eyes wide open. What are you doing?

“What is that?” your mother inquired, gazing toward your direction.

“Probably just these critters,” your father responded, swatting away the mots enticed by the light of the lamp you had left on. “Let’s go. Our daughter should be looking for us.”

You surely weren’t, helping Viktor opening a side door that led you to a dark corner of the gardens. Even if you looked like a vision, with your hairdo messy and face flushed and sweaty; the façade of a proper lady had long gone with the mud staining the edge of your shoes and the essence that seemed to cling to your skin, like lust and adrenaline.

It was clear you had just had sex. And even if Viktor felt pride grow inside his chest at how he made you feel, he knew that nobody should look at you like this, or else rumors would spread, and Sylvester would talk.

And his words etched in Viktor’s mind, too. In a way, Sylvester wasn’t that far-fetched. A womanizer, certainly not, but Viktor did was the reason why you were doing these crazy things. Risky things. And for something so… silly.

Was it silly? The way he felt the most alive in a long while.

If he’d be caught, not only he would be ostracized from Piltovan society even further, but also, it would shut off all opportunities he had ever since helping create Hextech. Viktor didn’t mind being behind the shadow of Jayce—it was rather better, without having to tell your plans out loud and intervene like a public figure in events, drained from fake-crafted charm.

Viktor was first and foremost an inventor, not a man. Not really.

To be led upon simply by mundane desire was something very unfamiliar that for a moment he considered if you had pulled a spell on him, that your costume as Fairy wasn’t much of a costume.

“I’ll accompany you to the main gate,” Viktor said once you were far enough the greenhouse and nearby the entrance. “I think it’s better if we go our separate ways, Miss Fairy.”

You looked at him, and not even the sparks in your mask could hide the dimming twinkle in your eyes that felt like a punch on Viktor’s chest.

“Are you sure?” you mumbled.

“I don’t want to jeopardize our situation,” Viktor had to confess, hoping you would understand, even when in his mind he was struggling to put his tangled thoughts into words. “Putting us in danger for sex is rather foolish, and I don’t wish to put our reputations in jeopardize, if I have to be honest with you, Miss Fairy.”

His words dawned on you, probably in the wrong way for the way your steps wobbled away from him. He tried to steady you, but it felt wrong to touch you in the open like this when so much more had happened behind closed doors.

“Don’t misinterpreted me, I truly enjoy your company.” And a very deep part of him wished to have more, a truly stupid desire he had to tore from its roots. “You… you made me feel…”

“That’s alright,” you said, smiling at him though your tone cut through his words like a downpour of freezing water. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I think it’ll be better if I walk alone, so people don’t see you with me.”

It was such a logic step to follow, so why Viktor felt a hollow growing in his belly once you turned your back at him?

“Goodbye, Sir.” His goddess was walking away, at it wasn’t even dawn.

He had to bit his tongue to avoid calling you back.

It would be better this way; he’d drown in work once again tomorrow, and as the days go by, he’d forget you—only blinks of your presence would be summoned in those long, monotone nights when Viktor sought the comfort and intimacy of a lover.

Your humble lover, he told you. And he was.

Viktor watched your dress disappear between the trees until your presence became but a dream, leaving only the ghost of your kisses marked with lipstick that would wash off once he arrived home.

He should have never gone to that party.

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