#nothing will ever hit as hard as 'where you headed? no place special. i can change that' like the implications of that through their story

[sophsun1]

Queer As Folk – 1.01: Pilot

[daenysthedreamersblog]

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

[merrybloomwrites]

She's (Not) Afraid

Summary: Y/N's living her best life as a guitarist for One Direction until faulty tech leads to an unexpected injury. Luckily, her boyfriend Niall is by her side to help her through.

Word Count: 1.7K

CW: burns, fire, injury

AN: Welcome to Whumptober! I'm a big fan of whump and hurt/comfort so I'm excited to be participating this year! Quick note that I am not a medical professional so if there are any incorrect details here, I'm sorry! I tried to keep it as accurate as possible.

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

Never in a million years did you think you’d get hired as one of the guitarists to tour with One Direction. But still you had to try. So you sent in your audition tape, not expecting to hear back. 

But then you did. And they had you come play in person. After a few more auditions in front of numerous people, you got offered the job. 

It’s been a dream come true. It’s hard, intense, the schedule is packed with shows, travel, rehearsal, recording. But even though you’re exhausted, you’re having the time of your life. 

You’ve grown close with all of the boys, but by the end of the first tour it was clear there was something special between you and Niall. It makes sense, since you both played guitar, leading you to spend more time with him than the others. 

So it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone when he’d asked you on a date right when the tour was over. 

It’s been more than a year of you and Niall being together and everything has been perfect. He’s an absolutely wonderful boyfriend, and you’re over the moon in love with each other. 

He knows everything about you, every dream, every favorite, every fear. 

Which is why he tried so hard to fight against pyrotechnics being used for this tour. He knew you had a bad experience with a campfire when you were young, and it had left you with some trauma and fear of fire. 

You wouldn’t go near another bonfire or a lit fireplace, never mess with sparklers or fireworks, even gas stoves made you nervous because of the open flame. 

But management insisted that pyrotechnics were non-negotiable. Niall continued to press and got them to agree that nothing would be set up close to your spot on the stage. 

Now, months into the Take Me Home Tour, you’ve gotten used to the flames shooting up at every show. You still don’t love it, but there must be something to be said about exposure therapy, because by this point you barely notice it anymore. 

You’re on stage, playing guitar in front of thousands of people, sharing some secret glances with Niall. You’re on top of the world, the excitement and adrenaline running through your system making you feel invincible. 

But then your worst fear comes true. You finish “She’s Not Afraid” and go to switch guitars. You place your current one on the stand, but before you can grab the other one, a wave of heat rushes over you. 

Hands grab you and pull you away, but not fast enough. Your left arm is radiating the worst pain you've ever felt. It’s all you can focus on, the sounds of the people in the arena going silent as your ears start ringing. 

You’re shaking head to toe full body tremors, your breaths coming out as broken gasps. Familiar arms slide under your legs and around your back in order to carry you off stage. You tuck into Niall, letting his presence comfort you. 

He places you down on a folding chair backstage, taking your right hand in his when you begin to cry at the separation. 

“I’m right here, baby. Just giving them room to check you out, see where you’re hurt,” Niall says. 

You nod to show you understand, taking a deep breath to calm down and finally choking out, “I think it’s just my left arm. I was reaching for the guitar so that was the closest so I think it’s the only spot that got hit.” 

“Okay, that’s good sweetheart. Chris is here, he’s going to check the burn.”

Slowly, you extend your left arm to the EMT crouched next to you. He’s gentle as he cradles your arm, turning it to see the extent of the injury. 

After a moment he says, “It’s mostly surface level, but there’s a couple spots that are definitely second degree. You can see here, where it’s blistering,” he explains pointing to a spot on your skin. Rather than looking at it you watch Niall, who is focused on every word Chris says. 

“Does she need the hospital?” Niall asks. 

“Yes, she’ll need to see a doctor. I’m going to run cool water over her arm first and then she’ll need to be brought to the hospital.”

“Niall!” A shout catches everyone’s attention, Niall whipping around at the sound of his voice. Robert, one of their least favorite members of management, is walking over. “Encore time, let’s go,” he says. 

“What are you talking about? A member of the band just got burned on stage and you’re continuing the show?”

“They disconnected the faulty tech. Michael’s going to fill in for her. And you will go back out there and tell the audience that it’s a mild burn and everything is just fine.”

“I can’t just leave her-” Niall begins to argue, but Robert cuts him off, saying, “You can, and you will. Now get out there and finish the show.”

Knowing he had no choice, Niall quickly cups your face in his hands. He presses a kiss to your lips and says, “I will be right back. You’re in good hands, Chris is going to take care of you. I’ll only be gone a couple minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, though this situation is anything but okay. 

Niall leaves and your anxiety spikes once again. 

“C’mon kid, let’s get you patched up,” Chris says as he helps you up. He leads you back to your dressing room and into the bathroom within. He leaves you standing there for a moment while he starts the shower and gets it to the correct temperature. When he turns back to you he notices how shaky and pale you are and how quickly you’re breathing. 

“Y/N, I’m going to have you lay here and put your arm in the shower. Careful, gently now,” he says and he helps you lay down on a couple of towels that another EMT placed down. Chris leads your arm into the stream of water and it stings at first before you finally feel relief from the burning. 

Minutes pass and suddenly more voices fill the room. 

“Baby, I’m here,” Niall says and he holds your free hand once again. You look at him with a weak smile and he asks how you’re feeling.

“Better,” you answer. “Doesn’t hurt as much. I’m a little cold.” You’re just realizing that you’re shivering, which you feel is wrong considering you literally got hit with fire, but maybe the cool water is really doing its job. 

“Grab a blanket,” Niall says to someone behind him and you turn in time to see Louis step away. You look out the doorway and see the other boys standing there, all wearing matching expressions of worry. 

“Guys, I’m okay,” you say, hating how scared they look.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be okay right now. We’ll take care of you,” Niall says.

“I love you,” you reply, not able to keep that thought in. You’re used to being strong, you’ve never been one to be coddled. And Niall knows that. He’s the first person who’s been there for you. It’s still unusual for you to depend on other people, but you’re grateful for the reminder in this moment. 

Louis comes back and hands Niall the blanket which he then gently places over you. 

“How much longer does she need to keep her arm under the water?” Louis asks.

“Few more minutes and then I’ll wrap it up so she can get to the hospital,” Chris answers.

“Ni?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Can you have everyone else leave? Please?” Immediately understanding that you’re overwhelmed by all the attention, he turns to Louis and asks him something quietly. Shortly after that the room clears of everyone except Niall, Chris and the other EMT. 

“Time to dry and wrap it,” Chris says. He turns the water off and pats the area. He’s as gentle as possible, but it still hurts. You turn to Niall who leans close and presses kisses to your face to distract you from the pain. 

Once the wound is covered you head out to the ambulance that they insist you take, which feels more embarrassing than anything. Niall stays with you the entire time, holding your hand for the drive there as well as the entire hospital visit. The doctor there examines the burn, applies cream and bandages it once more. He gives strict care instructions which Niall listens to intently, promising the doctor that he’ll be making sure you heal properly.

Luckily it’s not a travel night, and you head back to the hotel at some godforsaken hour of the morning. Management doesn’t even try to fight it when Niall joins you in your room, knowing that’s a fight they wouldn’t be winning. 

The pain medicine is doing its best, but you’re still somewhat uncomfortable by the time you get in bed. Niall holds you close to him, singing quietly to lull you to sleep.

Of course peaceful sleep is too much to ask for, and you’re plagued by nightmares, multiple ones that are so intense they wake you up sweating, unable to catch your breath. Niall is there, never complaining about the lack of sleep, letting you cry and vent as much as you need.

You’re given time off to recover, and though management still argues to keep the pyros, only two remain onstage, far away from the band. 

Your fear of fire returns, worse than ever. And while some people may laugh at you for getting scared by lightning or campfires, Niall never joins in. He validates your fears. He understands where you’re coming from and never belittles you. 

Over time your burn heals, though the scar remains. You hate looking at it, seeing how ugly it is and remembering one of the scariest moments of your life. But Niall is always there to tell you how beautiful it is, and to remind you how strong you are. While you hate that this happened to you, it’s proved that Niall is there for you, no matter what. And that means the world to you.

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

AN: Thanks for reading! Louis x reader up next in 2 weeks!

[starry-eyes-love]

I Do Care

Main Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader- one-shot AU, no outbreak. Within the same universe of Marriage Dynamics, but can be read by itself.

Summary | Joel and you have a special arrangement, one where he dominates you and gives you everything you could ever desire and more. But what happens when you realize that he does care, and that you never stopped caring?

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Heavy Smut. Language, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (but none specified), smut, possessive Joel, domineering Joel, husband and wife dynamics, daddy reference, brief reference of fertility struggles and marriage separation, angst, but they work it out. Enjoy 🙂

Word Count: 1.4K 

A/N: This one came from a dark, personal place. I promise it works out.

It’s a cycle. You argue, fuck, rinse, and then repeat.  You promise not to do it again each time, and yet here you are. Your body is on the ground as, once again, Joel is fucking you hard on the living room floor. Your heels and underwear are thrown somewhere over the back of the couch as he pounds into you, growling, “You’re fucking mine.” 

And you are his, completely and utterly his.  He owns you in every possible way, and you love it.  You love that he uses your body to make you cum, to remind you of who you belong to. “Daddy’s little girl” is what he calls you, what he says as he changes positions, angling his cock deeper into you, hitting that soft spot that makes you see stars right up inside of you.

You know to stay silent; he told you to when this all began.  “Keep your mouth shut today, ok, little girl? And if you do, Daddy’ll reward you.”

And you try, oh, you try so hard to stay silent, but the noise slips through your mouth.  The small whimper and the plead of “please.”  As soon as he hears it, he drags you upwards, spins you around, and slams back into you, holding you tight against his body, chest to back, as he fucks up hard into you.

“Then say it,” he growls, fucking you faster and harder, “Say it.”

You shake your head violently, not wanting to give in, to give him the thing he so desperately wants, the admission of who you belong to.

It wasn’t always like this, this possession, this style of intimacy.  It’s just something that came about over the years with your husband. You found yourself seeking it, needing this harsh reality the two of you share because this is the only time everything makes sense anymore.  Nothing else in your life makes sense, and that’s okay because you always have this.

The way he caresses your curves over your body. The way his mouth spills filth into your ears, encouraging you to just “let go and feel him.” You're addicted to it.  To his mouth, to the bite of his words, to the bite of his teeth as he clamps down hard onto your shoulder, surely to give you a bruise by morning. All because you didn’t follow his orders.  But you’re not telling him what he wants to hear, what he needs to hear now, in this moment.

“I said, fucking say it,” he growls, getting so close to the edge but not quite tipping over.  He needs your words, your obedience, your submission.

“No,” you growl right back, slamming down hard on his cock and squeezing him inside of you so ungodly tight.

“Fuck” he seethes, grabbing your hands and slamming them down on the ground, laying on top of you fucking you like a wild animal.  And that’s what this is: animal instincts.  You’re ovulating, and he knows it.  He’s tried to put a baby in you for damn near 15 years, and each time is like the next; it never fully takes.  So he’s stopped trying, and you’ve stopped trying, and somehow, you both drifted apart along the way.  But right here, you’re together, and the world feels right.

“Fucking say it,” he growls again, two seconds away from ending this and walking out again.  But he doesn’t because he knows.  He knows you’re hurting and that you feel alone. But damn it, he feels alone too.  But he’d never admit that because that’s not what you two do.  You two argue, fight, make up, fuck, and then repeat.  He'd walk out and never look back if he had any sense left in his brain.  He’s wanted to, you’ve wanted to, but you both don’t. You know he’d never leave you entirely, and neither would you.  So here you are again, rutting into each other, trying to find balance in this God's forsaken world. This is about a man trying to prove to his woman that he’s still here, that he still finds her attractive, that he’ll fuck her time and time again because he loves her.  But he can’t say those words anymore; never mind, you both know you need to hear them again.

And then you’re at the edge of something beautiful, something amazing, but your body won’t tip over.  You know this: you need Joel’s hand and his command to let yourself feel something.  And you fight it, not wanting to open your mouth, but you know it’s useless.  So you open your mouth and say the one thing you’ve held back for 15 years, the thing that he doesn’t know. “I’m broken, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

And then it’s like someone hits the pause button on the movie, and everything suddenly stops. You lie on the floor, gently sobbing, finally letting the floodgates open from a life of holding it all back.  Your husband can’t believe what you just said, what you just verbalized.  That wasn’t part of this deal, of this scene, and you both knew it.  But right now, he can’t be your dominant; he needs to be your husband.  But he doesn’t know who that man is anymore, for he’s been gone in his head for a very long time.

Joel slowly eases himself out of you, gently placing a hand on your back, saying, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this any-”

“RED!” you shout, telling him that you’re done, that you don’t want to play in this scene anymore, and that you’re not okay.

Joel closes his eyes at this realization that you’re not okay and that he needs to step up and be the man for you.  He sees you pleading to make it alright as he opens his eyes. But that’s the thing; he doesn’t know how to do it anymore.  So he takes a steadying breath and says, “I’m sorry, but I’m broken too, baby.”  

You go to take a step away and let Joel leave because that’s what you two have done for a while now.  He doesn’t live here anymore, hasn’t for almost a year, and you’ve been broken ever since.  Hell, you were broken even before that.  What you two are doing is just physical, nothing more and nothing less, and it kills you.  Whenever you two fuck, Joel makes you tell him that you are his and that you belong to him.  And you do, but not the way that you hoped.

You know Joel doesn’t want to comfort you when he doesn't reach for you.  You just say “leave” as you walk into the bathroom and allow the tears to come.  When you hear the downstairs door shut, that’s when the sob escapes your mouth as you scream into your hand.  You just want your fucking life back, and you can’t figure out what you did.

After you finish your hot shower, you re-enter the room and find Joel sitting on the bed, head in his hands, as you hear gentle sobs escaping his mouth.  You think this is what happens when a marriage gets derailed, wondering why you both are hurting and can’t fix it.  But then you see it; the ring is back on his finger, something he hasn’t worn for over a year, and you hear the silent plea come from his lips, “Baby, please make love to me.”

And you do; you make love to the man who’s been your husband and the person of your dreams for as long as you can remember.  You know that you only get this thing occasionally, and each time you do, you cherish it because, come morning, you know what reality will be. Joel will be gone.  So you don’t think, you just feel and do, which is the one thing you’ve wanted for a long time.  To just feel alive again because all you feel inside is dead.

When you wake in the morning, you know Joel is gone before you even open your eyes.  He doesn’t stay, and you know this.  But somehow, you thought that things could be different from last night.  But they can’t, you know this. So when you open your eyes and see Joel’s wedding band on his side of the bed with a note attached, you feel your heart sit within your throat.

“If you’re serious about wanting to do this again, then you need to fucking talk to me. I know you won’t say it, so I will.  I love you, and I do fucking care.”

End One-Shot

[graciegoeskrazy]

The birthday party

(Matty Healy + teen!daughter!r)

warnings: angst (we’re back!), shitty dad Matty for a min, uncle George yay, yelling, just sad, reader is turning 13

a/n: what other title did you think I would choose bffr

You had been talking about it for months. There was no way he could forget. Right? He’s your dad. The only parent you’ve ever had. It’s always been just the two of you, side by side through everything. He knows you better than anyone else in the world. So why was this nagging doubt creeping into your mind this morning?

He always made it a big deal. A special breakfast, a couple of thoughtful presents to kick off the day—but this time, there was nothing. No sounds of sizzling bacon, no smell of pancakes. Just silence. You searched every corner of the house—his bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, even the backyard and guest room—but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until you glanced outside that you noticed his car was missing. A knot tightened in your stomach as you reached for your phone and sent him a text, hoping for an explanation that would ease the growing sense of disappointment.

y/n | where r u???

dad | studio. y?

At first, you convinced yourself he was playing one of his usual tricks. It was exactly the kind of thing your dad would do. Let you sweat a little, only to jump out from somewhere unexpected with a goofy grin and a surprise waiting behind his back. You smiled at the thought, almost hearing his laughter in your head. That had to be it. It was all part of some elaborate birthday prank.

You didn’t reply to his text at first. The message sat unread on your phone, the screen dimming after a few seconds, like it wasn’t important. You brushed it off, continued getting ready, telling yourself this was just part of the game. The anticipation kept you going—maybe he’d burst through the door any minute with balloons and confetti, trying to catch you off guard. You could already picture his laugh, the way he’d raise his eyebrows like, ‘Gotcha!’

But with each passing minute, doubt began to creep in. You found yourself staring at the phone longer than you'd like to admit, uncertain how to respond. A part of you wanted to play along, to convince yourself it was all just a joke. But there was another, quieter part of you—a part that you didn’t want to acknowledge—that began to whisper the truth you were trying to ignore.

There was no prank, no surprise waiting for you. The sinking feeling in your stomach told you what you didn’t want to admit. He forgot your birthday. And no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise, that truth weighed heavier with each moment of silence.

…

School had always been your escape, a place where you could drown out everything else by burying yourself in classwork and conversation. Today was no different. You told yourself if you kept busy enough, the hurt gnawing at you would fade into the background. It almost worked, until your friends surprised you at lunch.

They gathered around with smiles, handing you a cupcake, complete with a crooked candle, and a small gift they’d all chipped in on. You forced a smile, doing your best to swallow the lump in your throat. You weren’t about to ruin the moment for them. But your best friend wasn’t fooled for a second.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s really going on?” she asked, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up quickly, startled. “What? What do you mean?” you replied, plastering on a grin. But it was thin, stretched too tight, and you knew she could see right through it.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You walked into school looking like you just got hit by a car. You’ve been staring at your phone every five seconds, and I can tell you’re about two seconds away from crying. So, what’s up?”

The act fell apart. You swallowed hard and stared down at the half-eaten cupcake, your voice barely above a whisper. “He forgot my birthday.”

She tilted her head, confused for a moment. “Who did?”

You met her eyes, feeling a wave of shame and frustration crash over you. “My dad. He… he forgot my birthday.”

Her face fell. The disbelief in her eyes was instant, but not entirely surprising. “What?! No way,” she blurted, shaking her head.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the desire to move on from the topic growing stronger by the second. “It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“It’s a huge deal, Y/n! He’s your dad!” She almost shouted, her voice filled with a mix of outrage and disbelief.

You mumbled, but the bitterness in your voice was unmistakable. “Yeah, well… he hasn’t really been acting like one lately.”

Her face softened instantly, guilt flashing in her eyes for snapping at you. She leaned in, her tone gentler now. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to figure out the words. “I dunno, maybe he’s just busy or dealing with his own stuff. It’s not a big deal—”

“But?” she pushed, refusing to let you brush it aside.

You hesitated before continuing. “It’s like he’s… here, but he’s not here, you know? He’s around, but we don’t talk anymore. We don’t even see each other, really. It’s like he’s some random roommate I found online. I only see him when we happen to cross paths, maybe at dinner or when I’m heading out, but even then, it’s like I’m invisible. He doesn’t even acknowledge me.”

Your friend’s face fell, and she reached out, resting her hand on yours. “That’s not right, love. You know that, don’t you?” Her voice was quiet but firm. “Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him how you’re feeling.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her suggestion. “Yeah, maybe,” you muttered, but deep down, you wondered if he’d even listen.

…

Adam found Matty slouched in a corner, next to the coffee machine and a spread of half-eaten snacks, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. The exhaustion was evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Honestly, all he wanted to do was be home, sitting on the couch with you, watching some mindless TV, shutting the world out for a few hours. But there was still work to be done. The faster he finished this album and sent it off, the sooner he could finally focus on what mattered most—you.

“I’m surprised you’re even here,” Adam said, breaking the silence as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Matty didn’t bother looking up from his phone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Adam gave him a sideways glance. “I just figured you’d be with Y/n.”

Matty frowned. “Why?”

Adam shifted, uneasy, and took a sip of coffee. “Well, you know... thirteen is kind of a big deal.”

Thirteen. The number didn’t seem to register for Matty right away. Adam watched as the realization crept over Matty’s face like a slow, chilling wave.

“What do you—” Matty’s voice faltered, and then he froze. He stared blankly at Adam, piecing it together. The sinking dread filled the room. Adam could tell from the way Matty’s expression darkened that he had forgotten.

“Don’t tell me...” Adam muttered, but it was too late.

Matty bolted upright, shoving his phone into his pocket and grabbing his bag without a word. The room seemed to spin around him as he stormed out, not bothering to explain himself to the others. He needed to get to you. Now. 

As he sped through the streets, his mind raced. How could he have forgotten? You, his world, his everything. The one person who had completely shifted the course of his life thirteen years ago, making him into something more than just himself. He had thought about stopping somewhere—buying a cake, maybe some balloons—but the clock was ticking, and every second felt like another failure. He couldn’t waste any more time.

Guilt tightened in his chest with every mile he drove. You deserved more than a last-minute apology and a quick fix. You deserved his time, his presence, his love—especially on a day that should have been about you.

But now he was on his way, and he didn’t know how to make it up to you. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

………. 

You were curled up on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions, letting the sweetness of the cupcakes numb the ache inside. Your friend had baked them for you—her attempt to make the day a little less unbearable—and you didn’t care about the calories or the mess you were making as frosting smeared across your fingers. It was a brief distraction from the disappointment gnawing at your chest.

Then you heard it—the keys jingling in the lock, the door creaking open. Your heart tightened. Without a second thought, you reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“Y/n!” Your dad’s voice echoed down the hallway as he rushed in, breathless, his footsteps quick, desperate. He froze when he spotted you on the couch, eyes widening as if the sight of you caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he started, his voice cracking, “I’m so s—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you stood, the movement sharp and deliberate. You clenched your jaw, refusing to meet his gaze as you gathered the crumpled cupcake wrappers and empty water bottles scattered around you. The silence between you thickened, heavy with everything unsaid.

You walked to the trash bin, each step deliberate, your frustration palpable in the way your shoulders tensed. His eyes followed you, pleading, but you refused to acknowledge him.

“Where are you going?” His voice cracked, barely holding back the desperation.

“To bed,” you answered, your tone cold, distant. Still, you wouldn’t look at him.

He glanced at his phone, confusion flickering across his face. “It’s only 7:30?” he questioned, as if the time mattered in the slightest.

“I don’t care.” Your voice was soft, almost too soft, like a balloon deflating after holding in too much air. “I just need to be away from you.”

Matty took a step closer, his hands trembling as he reached out, though he stopped short of touching you. “C’mon, baby. Please don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice rough with guilt. “Talk to me. Let me fix this. I can make it right.”

The crack in your heart finally shattered. “I don’t care anymore.” The words tumbled out, jagged and raw, each syllable heavy with the weight of years of pent-up frustration. “I’ve let the stupid shit you’ve done slide my entire life! And I’m just… I’m so tired. I’m tired of you disappointing me over and over.”

He looked at you, his face crumpling as if he didn’t know what to say, as if he hadn’t realized just how deep the hurt ran. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that held no humor. “I know you are. You’re always sorry, but I’m tired of hearing it. I don’t care anymore.” Words hitting a little harsher.

He took another step toward you, his voice shaking. “Please, Y/n. Just give me a chance to fix this. Let me make it right, I’ll do anything.”

“No.” You shook your head, your resolve hardening. “You can’t fix this. You can’t even remember my fucking birthday birthday.”

His mouth opened, but no words came. The silence stretched, painful, until finally, something inside him snapped. His face twisted, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I wouldn’t have to try to remember if you weren’t here!” The words flew out, sharp and ugly, hanging in the air like a slap. His eyes widened, regret flashing through them the moment they left his lips. “I didn’t mean that,” he stammered, panic setting in. “Y/n, I—”

But it was too late. The truth of his confession hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. For a moment, you stood there, frozen, feeling the sting of his words sink in. Then, without another word, you turned on your heel and stomped up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

“Y/n!” he called after you, his voice breaking with desperation. “Please, Y/n, wait! Don’t go!”

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You slammed your bedroom door with a force that rattled the house, and for a brief moment, the entire world went silent. Downstairs, Matty stood frozen in the middle of the room, his head hanging low, his body sagging under the weight of his mistake.

…

Matty wasn't sure what to do next. He paced the living room for a while, his steps quick and restless, before collapsing onto the couch. The same spot where you had sat for hours, fighting tears and the crushing weight of disappointment. He stared at the scattered crumbs and empty cupcake wrappers left behind, his chest tightening as he imagined you curled up there, waiting for him, hoping for something he failed to give.

The knock at the door broke through his spiraling thoughts.

He rose sluggishly, his movements heavy with dread. It was late—too late for a neighbor or a delivery. As he opened the door, the cold air rushed in, carrying with it the sight of George standing on the porch. His coat was large, the collar flipped up to shield him from the wind, and his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Hey,” George greeted, his voice low and careful, though his sharp eyes betrayed his concern.

Matty blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

George’s expression hardened. “Bubs called. She didn’t tell you?”

Before Matty could answer, he heard the hurried sound of footsteps behind him. You swept past him without so much as a glance, your shoulders stiff, your chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“Hi, George,” you murmured, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your voice was clipped, your movements rushed, as if staying in the house a moment longer would suffocate you. “I’ll be in the car.”

Matty turned to watch as you walked away, your silhouette disappearing into the darkness. The slam of the car door reverberated through the silence.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

George stepped inside, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. He shrugged off his coat but didn’t bother to hang it, instead crossing his arms and pinning Matty with a pointed look. “What happened, mate? She wouldn’t tell me anything, just that I needed to pick her up.”

Matty hesitated, his eyes darting toward the empty couch before finally meeting George’s gaze. “I said something…I said something really bad.”

George’s brows shot up. “Go on.”

Matty’s voice cracked as he admitted, “I forgot her birthday.”

“I’m sorry—what?” George’s tone was sharp, his disbelief cutting through the room like a knife.

Matty winced. “I left this morning and went to the studio with Adam. My mind was on recording, and I—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” George interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s not an excuse to forget your only child’s thirteenth birthday.”

“I know!” Matty snapped, his frustration with himself boiling over. “I know, okay? I screwed up. But I talked to her, and I tried to—”

“Oh, this should be good,” George interjected with a bitter laugh. “Let me guess. You made it worse.”

Matty let out a defeated sigh. “She was crying. I told her I could fix it, that I’d do anything to make it right, and she told me I couldn’t even remember her birthday. And that’s when…”

George raised a brow, his patience clearly thinning. “When what?”

Matty swallowed hard, his throat dry. “That’s when I said, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have to remember if you weren’t here.’”

The silence that followed was deafening. George stared at him, his jaw tightening, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. “You are a fucking idiot,” he said finally, his voice calm but dripping with contempt. “You know that?”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” George shot back. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have let her walk out of here feeling like that.”

Matty’s shoulders sagged. “What do I do?”

“You want a step-by-step guide on how to not be a shitty dad?” George’s sarcasm was biting, but when Matty didn’t respond, he softened, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Here’s what’s going to happen. She’s coming home with me. She’s going to cry into my arms, like she always does when I’m cleaning up after your screw-ups. Meanwhile, you’re going to sit here, think long and hard about what you said, and figure out how to make this right.”

Matty nodded weakly. “Okay.”

George stepped back toward the door but paused, turning to face Matty one last time. “And Matty? If you ever, ever make her feel like that again, I won’t just clean up your mess—I’ll make damn sure you know what it feels like to be left behind.”

……..

The car ride to George’s house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle you tried to suppress. George didn’t push you to talk. He knew better than to force words out of you when you were like this. Instead, he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear shift, his presence steady and grounding.

When you arrived, George parked in the driveway and turned off the car, glancing over at you. “You hungry?” he asked softly, his voice breaking the silence.

You shook your head, staring out the window. The weight of the day pressed against your chest, and food was the last thing on your mind.

“Okay,” he said, not pushing the issue. “Come on, then.”

Inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cold night outside. George flicked on a lamp in the living room, casting a soft glow across the room filled with mismatched furniture and framed photos. It felt safe here, like a refuge from everything waiting outside.

You dropped onto the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. George disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. He set one on the coffee table in front of you and settled into the armchair across from you, cradling his own mug between his hands.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

You hesitated, biting your lip as your gaze dropped to the mug in front of you. The steam rose in lazy swirls, and you watched it as though it held the answers you couldn’t find.

“It’s not just the birthday thing,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

George nodded, not interrupting.

“It’s everything,” you continued, your words spilling out faster now. “It’s like… I don’t even know if he really wants me here. Half the time, he’s so busy with his own life, and I feel like I’m just in the way. Like I’m some obligation he didn’t ask for.”

George set his mug down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Listen to me, kid,” he said, his voice steady. “Matty is a lot of things—most of them a pain in the ass—but he loves you. He’s just… not great at showing it sometimes.”

You scoffed, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He told me he wouldn’t have to remember my birthday if I wasn’t here.”

George winced, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, that was a shitty thing to say. No excuses for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with hurt. “Do you think he means it?”

“No,” George said without hesitation. “I know he doesn’t. Matty’s an idiot, but he’s not heartless. He’s just scared, and when he’s scared, he says things he doesn’t mean. He’s trying, in his own messy way, but that doesn’t mean you have to forgive him right now.”

You nodded slowly, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak.

George moved to sit beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re allowed to be mad, Y/n. You’re allowed to feel hurt. But you’re not allowed to think, even for one second, that you don’t belong here, because you do. You belong with him, and he knows it, even if he’s too dumb to show it the right way.”

You leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace and the steadiness of his presence easing some of the tension in your chest. “Thanks, George,” you murmured.

“Anytime, kiddo.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

 ………

The next morning arrived sooner than you had wanted it to. You were curled up on George’s couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of lukewarm hot chocolate in your hands. The sitcom on the TV had long since faded into background noise, your focus lost somewhere between the fraying edges of the blanket and the storm of emotions churning in your chest.

George walked into the room, pausing just inside the doorway. His expression was cautious, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. You could tell something was up before he even opened his mouth.

“Your father is here,” he said, his voice soft but laced with something that sounded like reluctant hope.

You didn’t look up. “Is he now?”

George shifted his weight, pulling one hand free to scratch the back of his neck. “He wants to talk to you.”

“That’s a first.”

He sighed, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. “Maybe it’ll be good for—”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop fixing his mistakes.” Your voice was sharper now, laced with frustration and an undercurrent of exhaustion. “This is what always happens. Dad makes a mistake, I end up crying, and you or one of the guys come in and fix his problem for him.”

“It’s not a problem. You are not a problem.” George’s voice was steady but firm, like he was trying to will you into believing it.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you were thinking,” he countered. “Am I wrong?”

You looked away, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond.

“Whatever,” you muttered eventually, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Fine,” George said with a sigh, standing. “I’m sending him in.”

“Georgeeee,” you whined, your voice cracking slightly. But he was already walking away, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

A few moments later, your father appeared in the doorway, looking uncertain and uncharacteristically nervous. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets like he didn’t trust himself to let them hang freely.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said softly, his voice tentative. “I came to talk.”

You didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Can you listen at least?” he asked, stepping into the room.

“Whatever,” you replied, your tone flat and dismissive.

Matty hesitated for a beat before sitting down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. His knees brushed against the edge of the couch, but you didn’t pull away.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he began, his voice thick with regret.

“Then why did you say it?” You finally looked at him, your eyes sharp and accusing.

“I was…angry,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging. “I was trying to defend myself, and I made things worse. Like I always do.”

“Hm.”

Matty ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “I made you a cake…” he said after a moment, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “George told me to do it. To repent for my sins.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile. “So he’s fixing your problems for you again?”

“It’s not a problem—you’re not a problem—” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly in desperation.

“You sure made it sound like I was last night,” you shot back, your voice trembling with hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’re just sorry for admitting it,” you said, your gaze boring into his.

“Admitting what?”

“That I was a mistake. That you didn’t want me.”

Matty’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently. “You are not a mistake, my love,” he said, his voice breaking. “You are my whole world.”

“Then how could you forget my birthday?”

His face crumpled, and he looked down at his hands. “I don’t want to give an excuse,” he said after a long pause. “One, because I don’t think you’ll believe me, and two, because it’s not good enough. I can, however, beg for forgiveness for the rest of my life, and tell you how sorry I am.”

You stared at him, your chest tight and your throat burning with unshed tears. He looked so small, sitting there with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” Matty said, looking up at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Take all the time you need. Just… let me try to be better. Let me prove to you that I can be better.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and filled with things neither of you knew how to say. Finally, you nodded, a small, hesitant movement that felt like a crack in the wall you’d built around yourself.

Matty’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he managed a small, tentative smile. “Thank you, baby girl,” he said softly.

You didn’t respond, but when he reached out to gently squeeze your hand, you didn’t pull away.

“I got you something.” He whispered. He reached into the large jacket pocket, pulling out a small box, unmistakingly a jewelry box.

You perked up a little, adjusting yourself to sit up. He spoke softly, “I was gonna wait till Christmas for you to get this but, seems like a good time now.”

You let out a quiet scoff, “You planned Christmas already presents but not a birthday one?” He just jokingly hung his head in defeat which made you smile.

Taking the box, you slowly took the lid off, showcasing a silver necklace. It had your initial hanging from the chain, right next to a little charm with an ‘M’ on it, matching the one with your letter. Right above each of those was two small gems which you recognized as your respective birthstones.

You nodded and smiled softly, looking up to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

He pulled you into a side hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, love.”

[lieslab]

It comes and goes in waves

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with identity issues over different things, skz comforts you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: This one was a request and to whoever requested it, thank you for being so patient. Every one of these drabbles is a different scenario. Some are a bit more angsty than others, but most of these end with fluff. Enjoy <3

_ _ _

Chan:

Take it all in. The sound of the white foamy waves lapping at the shore. The way that the golden sunlight kissed Chan’s cheeks. The ease of his limbs as he lounged all sprawled out. The contentment on his face at this moment. 

For him, it was a taste of freedom, finally out of the studio and back near the water; he missed this. He loved what he had, but parts of him wished he could do this more. Spend time here at the beach, take you on adventures, a little me time never hurt anyone. 

“You’re really quiet today,” he finally called out. His hands cupped the back of his head and he glanced over at you. “Something on your mind? I’ve heard the water is pretty good at listening.” 

You shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. You didn’t want to break this moment. Chan deserved some peace and the last thing you wanted to do was feel like a burden. A small smile appeared on his face as he glanced up at you. “Come on, I know you want to talk.” 

“Not really.” 

He rolled across the sand, getting it all over his black shirt in the process, and placed his head in your lap. “Oh, come on, you can’t keep me hanging forever. What is it?” 

“I shouldn’t,” you continued. 

“I want you to.” 

Your eyes went back to the waves. The lull of them made you feel more relaxed than you had ever felt before. There was something so special about large bodies of water; the essence of purification and rejuvenation washed the soul anew. 

You sucked in a deep breath before it fell from your nose. “Do you ever feel lost sometimes?” 

“Like a depression kind of way?” He raised an eyebrow below you. The warmth of your thighs pressed into his shoulder blades. A wave of worry began to fill him. 

“More in an identity way. Like…” You shrugged, “just confused, I suppose.” 

He hummed softly and nodded. “I suppose sometimes I feel that way, yeah. People have rough parts sometimes and life can be difficult, but you know what?” 

“Hmm?” You glanced down and met his honey-glazed eyes. 

“The great thing about being lost is that you will always find yourself again. It might be later today or tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be next week or a month from now, but there will always be people to help you out. You can talk to me anytime if you need to, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded. 

“Now, where were we? Oh, right.” He shoved himself up and dusted off his palms. He bent down and you squealed, attempting to get away in the process. “Where are you going?” He laughed. 

“Don’t put me in the water!” 

Like a child, he mocked your words in a high pitched voice. You already knew you were going to get wet. You planned for it to happen since you came to the beach. It’s why you were already wearing your swimming clothes. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck. You squealed as he rushed towards the oncoming waves. The water hit his calves and then his knees. It didn’t take long before he grinned and dropped you in the water. 

Baptized by the cool water, you reappeared and spit a mouthful of water towards him. Those thoughts in your head had been pushed off to the side. “Just wait until I get my revenge.” You shoved wet hair from your face.” 

“You gotta catch me first.” 

Without another word, he took off sprinting back to the beach. 

_ _ _ 

Minho:

“What are you looking at?” Minho asked. “You keep staring behind me, but there’s nothing there.” He shifted in his seat and glanced behind him again. 

The two of you were in a small cafe and drinking your preferred drinks. It was just something the two of you had agreed upon to escape the house. Both of you had been working hard and you decided you deserved a bit of a treat. 

“Nothing.” 

He squinted his eyes at you, turned back around, and looked over his shoulder. “Should I call my doctor and get you an appointment or something? Are you seeing things that aren’t there? Is it the devil?” 

“Minho!” You groaned as you rolled your eyes. “Of course, it’s not that. I can’t hallucinate the devil when he’s sitting directly across from me.” 

A smirk began to play upon his lips. “Does that make you an angel, God, or one of my followers?”

“It makes you an annoying little shit.” 

“Ouch.” He mumbled and placed a hand over his chest. “Seriously though, what are you looking at? You’re starting to freak me out.” 

The hustle and bustle of the coffee shop couldn’t distract you. The smell of coffee, the movement of baristas busy behind the counter, the deep conversation murmured by the couple across from you, none of it could pull your attention away from a certain spot near the counter.

Your eyes quickly went back and when Minho jerked around in his chair, causing a loud scrape as the legs jerked against the floor, you looked away again. He squinted and hummed as he took in the counter. “Oh!” Your body went tense as you held your breath. “Are you staring at the pride flag?” 

“No!” You answered a little too quickly and too sharp. 

He turned back to you and raised an eyebrow. “Is there an issue with the pride flag?” 

You shook your head. 

“Because if you’re a homophobe, I-” 

“No! No! No! No! It’s not that, of course, it’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” 

You let out a sigh and shut your eyes. The taste of your drink lingered in your mouth. You forced your head back up and opened your eyes. “Lately, I’ve been having a rough time trying to figure out my sexuality and everything.” 

“Oh?” His eyebrows scrunched up. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing for that?” 

“Because I…” You trailed off unsure how to answer. 

“Who cares? If anything, good for you. All you have is time and I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. Actually, do you need someone to test things with? I have a few buddies that will be more than willing.” 

You blinked in shock and shook your head. Your cheeks flushed red and your fingers clutched your cup tighter. “I want to figure it out on my own, but thanks for the offer.” 

“It’s about time you get a significant other, I need to tease you about someone. Love is love, is it not? As long as you’re not doing something illegal, it’s not a problem.” 

“Some people disagree with that,” you mumbled. 

“Well, maybe they should learn to fuck off. As a man who gropes other men in my free time, I have to say that they’re missing out.” 

You blinked in shock. “Does that make you ga-” 

“Who cares what it makes me? It makes me happy, it makes me laugh, and it doesn’t bother my band members. Do you wanna try it out on me? I’ve got such a cute little as-” 

“Alright, I think this conversation is over.” 

“And I think it’s just getting started.” 

You took another sip of your drink; what did you just walk into?

_ _ _ 

Changbin: 

“Push me higher!” 

“You’re going high enough!” 

“Nuh-uh! Higher! I wanna fly!” 

You grumbled beneath your breath and shoved your hands along Changbin’s back again. At your local park, you lost count of how many times you had pushed him. It was enough that your arms burned and your forearms ached. 

“Wee!” He cried out as he pumped his legs. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth he went. Higher and higher he soared towards the cloudy muddled gray sky. “Look at me go!” 

“Look at you go,” you bitterly spat behind him. 

Upon hearing you, he jerked his legs out straight and let his heels drag along the red mulch. Due to the potential threat of rainstorms, the park was empty. Kids were nowhere to be found and neither were their disengaged parents. 

None of the toddlers being helped across the monkey bars or the babies in the baby swings. Middle schoolers weren’t fighting over the metal zipline and high schoolers weren’t up at the top of the slide writing profanities in sharpie along the rims of the slide. 

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Changbin asked. “You’ve been in an awful mood for nearly an hour. 

“Because I should be at home and researching.” 

“For what?” 

“A proper career.” 

“Wait, what?” His head turned over his shoulder to face you. When that wasn’t enough, he got off the swing, walked to the other side to face you, and sat back on it. “You’re changing jobs?” 

“I’m getting a new career,” you corrected him. “I can’t keep doing the job I have now. I hate it, my coworkers suck, and there’s no room for growth. I can’t fucking stand any of it. I feel like I’m being forced into a square box and all my potential is being wasted. Day after day goes by, but I’m not happy.” 

“So what are you doing then? Are you going back to college or-” 

“I don’t know!” You snapped. “I don’t even know where I’m going.” You threw up your arms. “I want to be an artist, but being a teacher sounds nice too. However, I think journalism is cool and I really like the idea of being a truck driver and seeing all sorts of cool landscapes and traveling a lot.” 

You couldn’t stop your ramble once you started. “Plus, I think I’d make an amazing pastry chef. I could work at such a prestigious baking company. However, I could also start up my own business.” 

You groaned and rubbed your face. “I don’t know what to do! There’s so many options and not enough life to pick them all. What am I supposed to do? If I stay where I’m at, I feel doomed. If I leave, I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

A smile began to appear across his face. “Why don’t you do it all?” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“All you have is time. Find a starter job in one of those fields and try it out. You want to be a truck driver? How about starting somewhere and being a delivery driver for a while? A teacher? Find a class to teach. A pastry chef? Well, you know I have a bit of a sweet tooth sometimes. Better bake me something delicious.” 

“Well, when you put it like that, you make it seem so simple.” 

“Clearly, you have a lot of passions and it’s admirable. You want to take a blind leap of faith instead of focusing on small steps. Yes, you can still do your research. You can still create pros and cons and everything. Make a list of what interests you the most and the least. After that, you can narrow it down. No big deal,” he shrugged. 

“If I knew you actually were going to give decent advice, I would have asked you weeks ago.” 

“You’re welcome.” He grinned and held out his feet towards you. “To thank me, you can grab my ankles and pull me towards you. I still want to go really high.” 

“How high do you plan on going?” 

“To the moon.” 

_ _ _ 

Hyunjin: 

“Do you ever think about how there’s so much beauty in all of this? I can’t believe someone took this old church and turned it into an art gallery. This is the most unique looking place that I think I’ve ever been.” 

When Hyunjin said he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think he meant this. The art pieces mixed with the old interior of the church. The sanctuary, lined with red carpet, smelled like dust and old books. 

Stained glass windows caught the bright sunlight and reflected it throughout the church. Darkened blues, magentas, and wine reds; a kaleidoscope of colors that sent your stomach twisting with knots. 

You clutched Hyunjin’s hand and didn’t let go. He didn’t seem to mind as the two of you went from painting to painting. He pointed out focal points and the colors. The angles and all the things that made a good painting a good painting. 

On the other hand, you were struggling with where you were. Religion was something that you still weren’t sure about. You had no idea what you believed in and being here to observe art instead of worship and listen to a service, it made you feel guilty. 

You were a rabbit in a fox hole. Jesus’ gaze felt judgmental along the stained glass. His hands pressed in a prayer in different photos, uplifted during the last supper, you felt as if your presence was mocking him somehow. 

It wasn’t the point of the art gallery. It was just a building, you kept reminding yourself, but it wasn’t working. The people make the church, it’s not the building, but at that moment, it didn’t feel true. 

The walls were scorched with whispered prayers. The pews held the weight of sinners and the air vibrated an uneasy guilt. You wanted, you needed, to get out of here as fast as you possibly could. 

“Hyunjin?” You softly uttered, not wanting to break his concentration on another piece of art. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air.” 

“Okay, I’ll be here when you come back.” 

You nodded, let go of his hand, and took off outside. After meandering through a small crowd of people, you headed for the double doors and pushed them open. The burst of fresh air made your lungs feel clean. You sucked in a large gulp and shifted further out into the open air. 

The fresh cut grass washed away the staleness. The sturdy pavement beneath your feet carried you away from the old brick building. Further and further you walked until you found yourself leaning against a blooming cherry blossom tree. 

Twenty minutes later, you were nearly half asleep. Your back sat up against the tree and supported your head. The voice of Hyunjin caused your eyes to weakly open. 

“Hey, there you are! Are you okay? You were gone for so long, I thought something bad happened to you.” 

You weakly shook your head and shut your eyes again. “I just came out here to relax. It’s too heavy back there.” 

“Heavy?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you got that into the artwork. I didn’t know you had that in you.” 

“It’s not that, it’s the religious aspect. Seeing so much religious stuff and then not following God anymore, it makes me feel kind of guilty.” 

“Any reason why you stopped?” Hyunjin asked as he slumped down beside you. 

“Because I keep having a crisis about it. I don’t know which one’s right. There’s so many to choose from and it sends me spiraling. What if I pick the wrong one?” 

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as the wrong one. I think religion is supposed to provide a sense of security and comfort. Maybe you should try to focus on that aspect? People seek out religion for a lot of different issues.” 

“I’m sorry,” you wiped your hands over your face, “it’s silly, I know.” 

“I think it’s valid. There’s so many different types of religion. Some say we’re supposed to act one way and some say another. Whatever you choose to believe in, as long as it’s not harming anyone, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

“It brings connection and love sometimes. I hear it’s a pretty powerful thing to have faith in something or someone much bigger than you. Take your time. You don’t have to have it all figured out right away.” 

You leaned over and let your head rest on his shoulder. “Thank you. You really are the best.” 

“Of course, I am. I mean, after all, I am Hwang Hyunjin. Thee Hwang Hyunjin. Maybe you should give up on religion and just worship me from now on.” 

_ _ _ 

Han: 

“Is it better to have a thousand friends who don’t care much about you or one who does?” You asked randomly. 

You and Han were seated on opposite sides of the couch. After filling yourselves with your favorite ramen, you were filtering through random topics about different things. You were each batting back and forth and debating. 

“I’d rather have a single friend who cares about me. How could you possibly keep up with a thousand different people? I care about secure connections. I’d rather have someone truly know me for me rather than only know bits and pieces of myself. I want to be loved fully, you know?” 

You hummed softly and kept your attention on the blank TV. It wasn’t turned on and there was nothing besides the reflections of the two of you, but you stared at it anyway. Han observed you for a moment and pushed himself up further. “Would you choose differently?” 

“I think it’s nice to be wanted. Maybe the issue is that I want everyone to love me, no matter how little. I crave validation and praise. I lick up every ounce of worship and think about every little compliment, even if it’s backhanded.” 

Han frowned at your words. His eyes went over to you, but he didn’t speak. You looked lost staring at the TV, caught in your own world of make believe. Wishing the wrongdoings in your life were undone. You spent time pitying the past and trying to make up for it in ways that were never sustainable. 

“Hey?” He crawled across the couch and closer towards you. “Are you alright?” 

All you could do was weakly shake your head. He reached out, grabbed your wrist, and gently pulled you towards his body. “You can talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

“Sometimes I think about what we have and then I compare it to other people that I call friends. I’m in so many group chats and sure I go out with people, but it feels like it’s all fake. I don’t have connections with other people like I have with you. It just,” you shrugged, “it feels like I’m playing pretend. Like I’m trying to force something that doesn’t really exist. I’m making up for things I lost out on, at least, I’m trying to.” 

“You don’t have to make everyone your friend. That’s the amazing thing about friendships, you have the power to choose and make those decisions. Some people are better for you than others.” 

“I feel like I’m crumbling and in crisis mode.” 

“And you’re not very happy, are you?” 

You weakly shook your head and blinked back tears. Han wrapped an arm around your back and clutched you to his chest. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. You’re allowed to be just you and that’s valid. You don’t have to have huge birthdays and large gatherings every week.” 

“If you want that, fine, but it shouldn’t feel like a burden. It should be something you want to do. The people you hang out with, they shouldn’t feel like energy vampires. They should be the kind of people that make you laugh and make you happy. You don’t have to be isolated in a room full of people.” 

“What if I never really find my people?” You mumbled. “What if it’s just a far away dream?” 

“I don’t believe that. I believe everyone out there is meant for some people. You’ve just got to take the time to build relationships and try. It’s easier said than done, but if I was a random stranger and I came across you, I’d feel so very lucky to have you.” 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?” 

“All the time and I love you too, squirt.” 

With that, he leaned over your head and pressed his soft lips into the top of your scalp; a gentle reminder that you weren’t always alone. 

_ _ _ 

Felix: 

Trigger warning: Insecurities and self-hatred

“Is there something wrong with the brownies?” Felix asked mid-chew. A frown fell over his freckled face as he glanced down at your uneaten brownie square. “I thought they were pretty good, but I-” 

“I doubt there’s anything wrong with it, I’m just not that hungry. I’m sure it’s really great, Lix. I’m having an awful day and I just-” You shut your eyes and sighed. “I’m really struggling right now and I’m not in the mood for food.” 

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place? What’s wrong?” He pulled out one of the wooden stools next to you and sat on it. “You can tell me anything.” 

“Do you ever just feel like we shouldn’t be doing this?” 

“Doing what?” 

“This relationship that we have going on? Maybe it’s harsh, but how are you not embarrassed by me? You have so much and I have so little. I’m not nearly as talented. I don’t have the looks. I certainly don’t have all the finances that you have either. We’re like nothing alike.” 

It was a low blow on your end, but it cut him deeply. His fork stopped pressing into the softened brownie. Crumbs scattered along the white porcelain plate and for a moment, it seemed like the earth stopped spinning on its axis. 

His hurt eyes went down to the brownie. “What do you mean? Where is all this coming from? You can’t possibly think like that. Do you seriously think that about me? About us?” 

“I think I’m a shitty person. I’m not as perfect and cheery as you. Compared to you, I feel like dog shit. You’re gold and I’m the manure that gets spread across fields in the summer. How are you not embarrassed? I can’t do anything right!” 

“What do you mean?” His bottom lip quivered as he looked at you. How could you see yourself like this? Where you saw a mess, he saw beauty. Where you saw tragedy, he saw potential. You saw burnout, but he seen sparks that were ready to ignite into a roaring fire. 

It made him want to cry. How could you possibly disregard your feelings? Why were you talking so poorly about yourself? It made him want to pull you into his arms and never let go, but he resisted. 

“I don’t think I’m a very good person. I don’t think I’m good at anything. I-I don’t understand why you picked me of all people. I’m not special and I’m not that great.” 

“You’re so much more than that, you’re you. When you laugh, your cheeks turn rosy. Whenever you eat something you like, you happily squirm in your chair and do a whole little dance. When you go outside, you make sure to look down, so you don’t step on any bugs.” 

“I see someone with a big heart who is hurting. Your internal wounds don’t make you the scum of the earth. It’s not bad to hurt, it’s natural actually, but I wish you wouldn’t speak so negatively about yourself. Every time you do that, you’re hurting me too.”

You hated watching the tears prickle in his eyes. It made your own eyes start to water. You blinked rapidly and wiped a sleeve across your eyes. 

“Please don’t speak about yourself so poorly. I’m not sure why you’re speaking so negatively about yourself. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I know that I’m not leaving you. If this is some kind of self-sabotage to make me run away from you, it won’t work.” 

“It’s okay to struggle and not know exactly who you are. Don’t push me away when it gets rough like this. You don’t need to be alone and I love you. I’m not going anywhere. Even if you tried to shove me out of your life, I’ll always find a way to stick around.” 

“Felix?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I love you so much.” Your voice wavered, on the verge of bursting into sobs. 

He smiled and his dimples appeared. “Come ‘er!” When you practically threw yourself into his arms, he squeezed you tightly and didn’t let go. He shut his eyes and beamed happily. One day, he was going to help you see yourself like he saw you. 

Maybe not today, but he wasn’t going to stop until your own beauty sprouted before your very eyes. 

_ _ _ 

Seungmin: 

“Sing it with me!” 

“No,” you mumbled with your head up against the passenger window. Seungmin huffed and continued to sing one of the latest pop hits on the radio. You kept your forehead against the cool glass and watched the buildings pass by. 

The two of you were on the way to an arcade. You didn’t know that, but Seungmin knew something was wrong. He was competitive and so were you. He figured the arcade was the perfect place to burn off some steam. 

He huffed, reached up, and turned off the radio. “Okay, fine then, we’ll just sit in silence.” 

“You can turn it on and sing along, I just don’t want to sing.” 

“No. I don’t want to sing alone. If you’re going to make me do it alone, what’s the point?” 

“You’re being so dramatic.” 

“And you’re being so uptight and anti-social.” 

You shot him a glare before crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “What the fuck is your problem?” You grumbled as annoyance built up in your bones. 

“My problem? If you must dig around and find out, it’s you. You’re over there throwing yourself an entire pity party. Are you aware that you’re huffing and pouting out loud? I can hear you grumbling beneath your breath.” 

“Fuck off!” You snapped. 

“Seems like I poked the bear. What is it this time? Relationship problems?” 

“No.” 

“Still can’t pull anyone I see. Friendship issues? I mean, if you still even have friends.” 

“Of course, I have friends, but no.” You glanced over and shot him a glare. “It’s not that either.” 

“Welp, I’m out of guesses then. Are you going to tell me or do I have to resort to drastic measures? Changbin’s weakness is tickling.” 

“The first time you tickle me will be the last time. You’ll have to explain to your management how I bit off your entire hand.” 

“Are you gonna hold my other one for emotional support? I think it’s the least you could do after such a violent assault. I’ll have to get a rabies shot and everything. Do I get a sticker afterwards?” 

“I don’t have rabies!” 

He glanced over at you, looked you up and down with a look of disgust, and shook his head. “Kinda seems like you do to me. One of the first signs of rabies is aggression and believe me sweetheart, you have a ton of that right now.” 

“Screw you.” 

“You wish.” 

You jerked your head back to the window, slamming your forehead into the glass in the process. You winced, but didn’t rub the sore spot. Instead, you glared out at the fellow traffic beside you. 

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Alright, cut the bullshit, what is it really? What’s your issue?” 

“The entire issue is me.” 

“Do you know what giving context means?” 

“It means I don’t know what to do with my life.” You threw up your hands. “A career, friendships, the value of life, relationships, potential marriage and kids. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know how the fuck people have their lives together. I’m an adult and I’ve been an adult for a while now and yet, I still feel so lost.” 

“Is this the issue? Because guess what? None of us know what we’re doing. It’s an entire life. Do you think we really know? We don’t. In fact, I wouldn’t know what I was doing if it wasn’t for the company. They assign me shit and I just go do it.” 

“You really are like a dog.” 

“Due to the circumstances, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that.” He shook his head, adjusted his hands, and continued driving. “Seriously though, you don’t have to have it all figured out. A lot of us are still lost. Everyone’s paths are different, but you have plenty of time.” 

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll be amazing at it because you always are. You’ve got the passion and determination. There’s amazing dreams inside of you and I have no doubt that one day they’re going to bloom into something beautiful and grow big and strong.” 

“I can’t believe you’re being so soft and poetic right now.” 

“And I can’t believe you just had to ruin my moment.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up, so you can finish.” 

“Oh no, it’s done. You don’t deserve to hear what I have to say. Nuh-uh, you shouldn’t have been such a brat.” 

“You suck!” 

“And you swallow!” 

“You’re so lucky that you’re driving and I can’t punch you!” 

“You’re lucky we’re not on solid ground because I’d beat the shit out of you.” 

At least, you didn’t lose your bickering in your moment of self-doubt. 

_ _ _ 

Jeongin: 

Trigger warning: Depression, self-hatred, mentions of wanting to die and a gun.

“It’s bullshit!” You spat out angrily. “It’s all bullshit. Life is bullshit and I hate it!” You slammed the door shut to the apartment you shared with Jeongin and stormed up the stairs. 

Slipping into your room without a knock, Jeongin found you a few seconds later throwing your shoes across the floor. With a decent loud thud, they impacted against the side and bounced onto the floor. 

“What’s going on?” Jeongin asked. 

“What’s the point of life? It’s sad and it’s depressing. It’s pathetic and I’m miserable. I hate myself and everyone. I hate everyone and everything and I think it’s all just a bunch of fucking bullshit! I hate it!” 

He blinked, taken back by your words, and cocked his head. “So do you want to talk about it?” 

“I hate being alive! I hate not knowing who I am! I hate not knowing who other people are! I hate everyone and I wish I could just die.” 

“Um…wow.” He grimaced and reached back to the back of his neck. “That was a lot. Do you mind telling me when this all started?” 

“It started when I went into the store with my basic jeans and my stupid t-shirt. I seen a few people there and realized I dress like a fucking bum. I have zero taste and they’re practically walking celebrities.” 

“And then this one girl, she started to compliment this other girl. I didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but they started to gush over one another and talk about how cute the others’ outfits were and then to top it off, they got each other’s social media!” 

“And that’s a problem because?” 

“Because I wish I could be outgoing and confident, but I’m wired differently. I work with being an introvert, and being shy, and keeping to myself. How do I learn to do that?” 

He didn’t quite understand what the problem was. You slumped back into your bed and threw your hands above your head. “I went to get coffee after that. I went through my favorite coffee shop’s drive-thru and you know what I got stuck in? A pay it forward loop. Someone paid for my coffee and I said I’d pay for the person behind me. You know how much they ordered? A fuckton!” 

“And was that a bad thing? Of course not! I paid it forward, I paid the outrageous price because I can’t say no and now I don’t have enough money to buy that new album coming out next week and whose fault is it? It’s mine! I just want to be different and better! I want to be confident!” 

“So…” He hesitated, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. “Why don’t you try then?” 

“Because I have a killer migraine and I feel like bursting into tears and throwing up. The sun is so bright and I want to die. The world hates me, God hates me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you hate me too.” 

“Ah, that makes sense. So you’re having an internal battle with your inner thoughts and the migraine is the cherry on top, huh?” He sat down beside you. “Do you want me to get some pain killers?” 

“I want you to get me a gun.” You grumbled and used your palms to press into your eye sockets. “Living is too hard and I want some peace and quiet. Migraines are of the devil and I hate them.” 

“You poor, poor, poor thing. Just hang tight, I’ll get you some medicine and close up this room, so you can hang out in the dark. Maybe you’ll be up for a scalp massage and some water?” 

“I’m going to burst into tears, you’re a saint.” You let your eyes slip shut and began to relax. 

“Well, you won’t be dying on my watch, that’s for sure.” 

“Tragic.” 

“I’m going to hit you with a pillow.”

“And then I’ll throw up on you.” 

“That’s disgusting.” 

“Take it up with the migraines and God and the universe or whatever the fuck it’s called. Take it up with my brain and neuron receptors. I just want to go to sleep.” 

“You definitely need a long nap,” he mumbled beneath his breath as he got up. 

“What was that?” 

“I said I’d go get your medicine to help you with your head.” 

“I don’t think you said that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spun around and disappeared towards the bathroom. He knew you’d be over this later, but your thoughts stacked on top of one another and the compression was lethal. The added migraine didn’t help. 

As long as he was here, he wouldn’t let you suffer alone. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Puzzle

Platonic!Yandere!Kafka x Child!Fem!Reader

'I thought after his death he would give me his projects, not the child, if I would help him! Stop looking at me like that! You useless, short-lived brat!'

You sat quietly in a stall on the territory of the divination commission and prayed to all possible aeons that neither the cloud knights nor the monsters of Mara would find you tonight. In your hands, you randomly sorted through the puzzle that your father gave you before his death, now more than ever it helped you calm down and distract yourself. Ideally, you wanted to escape from Xianzhou and never come back. Such a short-lived brat as you have nothing to do here.

Suddenly, your peace was disturbed by approaching footsteps. Knights?... Mara's monsters?... In the blink of an eye, you prayed that they were knights. If someone will gonna find you, then let it be knights! However...

There was a growl. The man in front of you was like a wild beast that was about to pounce on you. You saw him swing his sword sharply, and have already managed to say goodbye to life.

"Bladie, listen to me..."

Tears immediately ran down your cheeks when you realized that you were almost killed. The fear of death hit you so hard that you practically didn't hear what that woman was saying to her friend.

"Child, could you please vacate this kiosk for an indefinite amount of time?"

Not remembering yourself, you flew out of a small room and sat down nearby.

"Thanks. Also, could you be very quiet?"

You nodded your head, unconsciously, and clamped your hands over your mouth. You're lucky that this woman was too busy at that moment, and you had a couple of minutes to recover.

Out of the corner of your eye, you started watching her with curiosity and caution. Your little fingers were still sorting through the puzzle. After a couple of seconds, you looked into the corner of your eye again and shuddered when you caught her gaze.

"Hmm... And what is a kid like you doing late at night in a place teeming with monsters? Are you lost? Or maybe you're hiding from someone?"

Your heart skipped a beat and she laughed softly at your face.

"So you are hiding. Relax, I won't give you away. To tell the truth, I'm hiding myself."

Her smile was sly, but her voice was soothing.

"What is that in your hands? Some kind of puzzle?"

"Y... yes."

"Can I take a look?"

"Of course..."

Hesitantly, you approached her and carefully handed her the puzzle.

'Among all the places and options where we could meet, this is it. I see.'

Her face was relaxed and even satisfied as she twirled in her hands the thing invented by your father. Suddenly her hand came down on your head and lazily patted it.

"Are you good at solving this puzzle?"

"I... Not... Not really..."

"I see. Then I can offer you my helping hand in this matter a little later..."

The future may be completely different, but as a rule there are common points in it. And for some reason, your meeting with Kafka became such a point. It intrigues her to some extent. What is so special about an ordinary timid child?

Despite her maximally relaxed facial expression, her eyes are sharp and they study you very carefully. Kafka sees your indecision and understands it, but...

Does not accept it.

"Listen, you won't deny me my desire to help you, will you?"

[lorilane33]

Midnight Musings

Pairing: Echo x Reader

A/N: I think I should start a bingo card for myself with all this fandom hopping I'm doing lol Star Wars is my current hyper fixation, and one special copy paste boy had my soul in his hands.

Summary: You wake up to find Echo not in bed.

Word Count: 1,098

Warnings: This is truly the saddest thing I've ever written, which isn't saying much. But Echo has been to hell and back, and he needs all the hugs in the entire universe. So this was my self indulgent self doing just that.

In a quiet bungalow somewhere on lower Pabu, something suddenly pulls you from the pleasant dream you were having. In the bed you share with Echo, something didn’t feel quite right, but you couldn’t place what it was.

You huff, mildly annoyed at the inconvenience of being pulled from sleep and snuggle deeper into the blankets in hopes of finding sleep again. 

You sleepily reach behind you in hopes of Echo being able to hold you until you fall asleep again, only to find the sheets cold. “...Echo?” you mumble, sleep thick in your voice. Less sleepy than you were mere seconds ago, you now understand what had pulled you from your sleep. 

Your boyfriend was not where he needed to be, and you had a feeling you knew just where to find him. Pushing the covers off yourself, you swing your feet over the edge, sliding until your feet gently hit the floor. 

You start your journey out of your shared bedroom and into the living space, leaning against the doorway. Looking around for his familiar bald head, you find him sitting at the table, head resting in his good hand.

From what you can see, he’s glaring down at his scomp link that rests in his lap. “Honey, are you alright?” you whisper. Some nights Echo had a hard time with nightmares or sometimes it was his survivor’s guilt that did him in. 

In the light of the moon, Echo looks up at you, a shimmer of regret in his eyes as he responds, “I’m sorry, cyare. Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.” A sad smile lifts at the corner of your mouth as you pad towards him. 

“It’s okay, really Echo. I woke up and you were gone so I thought I’d come find you.” Reaching the table, you place your hands on his shoulders to gently pull him back into a sitting position. “What was it this time, my love? A nightmare again?” 

He sighs and reaches his hand up to hold yours that sits on his shoulder, then shakes his head no. “No, mesh’la. Not this time.” 

Leaning forward you place a kiss to the top of his head. “Then if not a nightmare, what is keeping you awake at this hour, hmm? And if you think of fibbing to me and saying it’s nothing, then you will indeed have another problem to reckon with,” you respond, almost whispering the words into the top of his head where your lips remain. 

You hear him chuckle tiredly at your sass, the sound of his laughter lifting your spirits a little. Breaking the hold of his hand on yours, you slide your hands over his torso, stopping at the chest plate that sits atop his sternum. You feel him sigh, simultaneously in relief and in resignation at your touch. 

“Alright, fine.” The low cadence of his voice soothes you, as you hold him from behind. He reaches his good hand back up to lay over yours again, and you smile into his neck as he answers your question. 

“Cyare, it’s just…I don’t…,” he sighs, struggling putting his feelings into words. “I miss Fives, so kriffing much. The rest of the Domino Squad too, but Fives and I were brothers by choice. The two of us had been together since Kamino. Having to carry on now? Knowing he doesn’t get to? It hurts.”

You feel him shudder in your arms as speaking becomes too much for him, your arms instinctively pulling him closer into your arms. Heart breaking for this beautiful man, you softly respond, “I know you wish you could bring them back, and if it were possible, I’d do it for you in a second.” 

Stepping back, you keep one of your hands clasped tightly in his as you slowly slip around his shoulder to face him. Dropping to your knees, you reach up to caress his face with your free hand. When a tear falls from his amber eyes, you lightly brush it away with a swipe of your thumb. 

You squeeze his hand before continuing, “But I do know that wherever they are, they are so kriffing proud of you, Echo. You may have the scars and some metal parts to contend with now, but you survived. And are all the stronger for it. Your resilience and quiet strength are a couple of the millions of reasons why I have fallen in love with you.” 

A small smile graces your lips as you drop his good hand and gently pick up his scomp link still sitting in his lap. “This old scomp link? Is proof to me every day that you survived and are here with me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything, Echo. And if you need me to remind you every kriffing day that I love you, and that I’m not going anywhere, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Lifting it to your lips, you place a gentle kiss against his scomp while retaining eye contact with him. 

His bottom lip quivers, and his eyes blink slowly. You can see the emotions churning below the surface of his beautiful face. Then, you are suddenly yanked up into his lap and into his embrace as he holds you close. 

You place one arm around his neck, pulling yourself level with him. His response is a rumble of emotion, “Thank you, my love. You always know exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. I’m sorry you have to-”

“Ah!” you suddenly place a hand over his mouth. “If I hear another apology out of your mouth, good sir, then I'll have to punch you. And I’d really hate to have to do that, Echo.” A grin breaks out on your face, as you make eye contact with him. 

He looks emotionally drained, but graces you with one of his genuine smiles as you lean forward and place a kiss against his headset. As soon as you move your head away from him, you feel him turn his head and pull you in to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’re not wrong, cyar’ika. I’d hate to have you get violent. Your punches hurt.” He chuckles, and you feel it tingle on your lips. “And for the record? I love you too. Thank you for being so understanding.”

He kisses you again, pulling you close. The two of you continue to sit in the quiet of the kitchen, trading kisses and soft words until the sky outside turns gray; a new day on the horizon.

[shadowdaddies]

I love your writing so so so much!! If you’re taking requests, can I please request a modern Cassian x reader where they were dating but broke up for whatever reason? Maybe something where they’re still very much in love but it’s obvious to literally everyone except for them so there’s just a heap of built up sexual tension and teasing/flirting and everyone’s like guys come on!

Hey lovey, thank you so much! This came out more fluffy than I'd anticipated but I can't help it, I'm a romantic. This is my first modern au so I hope I do it justice. Thanks for the request💜

It's Never Over

Cassian x Reader Fluff

Warnings: drinking, they play truth or strip but there's nothing saucy happening

Your breakup with Cassian was the worst of your life. It was more painful than any other, because he didn’t hurt you. There was no solace in the fact that you were better off without him, because you weren’t. The two of you were tired of disagreements and different goals for your lives, so you decided that you would be better off as friends. 

You’d broken up two years ago now, but Cass remained one of your best friends. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one person who could always make you laugh. But you’d made your decision, you were just friends. 

~~~

It was Cassian’s birthday, and you and Feyre were unloading the decorations and supplies from your car to prepare your apartment for the surprise party you’d planned for him. “Remind me again why Cassian’s girlfriend isn’t the one planning this party?” Feyre questioned you. Knowing where she was going with this, you sighed. “We’re good friends, Fey. They haven’t been dating long, so I wouldn’t expect her to plan a party for him. I texted her to invite her but I didn’t get a response so I’m guessing she has something of her own planned.” Feyre just gave you a noncommittal hum as she unbagged the decorations and set to work. 

You were prepping the food in the kitchen when the door opened. You didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, because you heard Az’s frustrated groan as he made his way into the living room to Feyre. He called at you, “what were you thinking letting Feyre decorate? For an artist, your decorating skills are shit, Fey.” Feyre lightly hit him in the arm, laughing as she sipped her drink and watched Azriel “fix” the decorations she’d put up.

Feyre’s husband Rhys arrived soon with the cake, and other friends filed in. You got Cassian’s message on your phone letting you know he was arriving at your apartment to pick you up for what he thought was just a small birthday dinner. Everyone took their places in hiding, and when Cassian strolled through your front door, everyone yelled out “SURPRISE!” 

Your friend Mor arrived late, running up to you and Cassian, yelling “mom and dad!” (as you two had come to be known among your friends) as she grouped you both into a hug before heading for the drinks table. The party got increasingly rowdy throughout the evening, and hours later you were sitting around the living room with Feyre, Mor, Rhys, Az, and Cassian playing truth or strip. Mor gave Cassian a sly look as she asked him what special plans he had to celebrate with his girlfriend. He turned bright red, fumbling for an answer and in that moment, your heart beat so hard you thought it would explode. You were happy for Cassian, he was your friend and deserved a great birthday, so why were you sweating at the thought of his girlfriend? Feyre piped in just then, “I must have missed her coming by tonight. I didn’t see her.” Cassian took a deep breath, “she broke up with me yesterday.” Mor, nosey as ever, pushed Cass further asking why. You moved to pinch her as a silent warning, but Cassian glanced where you sat beside him and you froze. “Cass, did I do something?” you asked nervously. No matter what your past was with him or how you felt thinking about him with her, you would never want to hurt him by coming between them. 

Cassian glanced back towards the group before grabbing your hand to lead you outside. You didn’t miss Az’s smirk and wink at you as you followed Cass. “Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. She broke up with me because she can tell I still have feelings for you. I didn’t even realize it until she gave me an ultimatum: she wanted me to cut you out of my life, or she would end things with me. And I didn’t hesitate to break up with her. I would never choose another woman over you. You’re my best friend, and the reason I am excited to get out of bed in the mornings. I couldn’t be with her, I don’t think I could be with anyone as long as you’re in my life.”

Your head swam as you processed Cassian’s confession. Deep down, you knew you felt the same, but it was scary. “We broke up for a reason, Cass. We want different things, remember?”

Cassian brought his hands up to cup your face and whispered, “you are all I want. We can work together through any hardships. All I know is I want you by my side, through the hardships, through the lazy mornings, through the celebrations, I want it all.” 

Your eyes welled up with tears of joy as you leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was quickly interrupted by cheering noises, which you both turned to see your friends all watching you from the couch, Mor chanting “mom and dad” as they all toasted to you both, celebrating your enduring love for each other.

[wandasaura]

i decided to be nice and not individually send every thought i’ve had in the last hour, you’re welcome babygirl.

reader:

- getting a drunken tattoo during the mommy and daddy don’t know they went out request

- wrecking (minorly) with daddy on the bike

- getting high asf and causing mischief w/ yelena while mommy and daddy are out and them coming home to absolute chaos

- run away reader run away ready run away reader

- car breaks down on the what was it? 40 minute drive? to westview from campus in the middle of the hottest summer ever, thanks global warming

- breaking something in the house or something along those lines and losing her shit because her real mother would kill her for something like that

- slipping while running around the pool after mommy has literally punished her for doing that previously. hurts herself, could break something, cries like a baby while wanda just sighs with her hands on her hips with that “i told you so look” until she can’t stand not holding babygirl

- someone gets sick (hurt/comfort) or baby gets sick and get literally everyone sick, rip squad

- mommy and daddy finally realize how few actual meals reader eats and institutes the sticker chart to earn stickers and eventually a super special treat

- mommy and daddy make reader get life360 or an airtag attached to her after running away so much

- 👹

i was waiting to answer this until i finished what i needed to do. but okay let me ponder all of this:

— r would get a henna with monica and be absolutely distraught when she wakes up the next morning and there’s a mini palm tree on her hip bone. it would take natasha literally holding her down on the bed to get her to see it’s literally only temporary

— never going to happen, absolutely not. if natasha has even the slightest bad feeling she’s calling wanda to come pick you up. she’s a reckless driver, but after her accident she’s reluctant to even get on the bike but she knows that you adore it so she does it for you. she’s not willing to risk your safety even if she knows that logically nothing would’ve happened had she kept you on with her

— after the first time you get high yelena offers to show you an actual good time, more so you stop associating weed to ill practically greening out lol. she makes you wait half an hour between hits, slaps your thigh when you take a hit too hard/deep. she’s a total mother hen which is funny considering she’s the most chaotic person you know. when you’re high enough, you and her try and make wandas cookie recipe bc you’re properly suffering from the munchies and guess who walks in right as you drop flour all over the floor… wanda and natasha who had been out at a business dinner that you’d willingly elected not to attend. you practically fling yourself at natasha and giggle about how wanda’s face is as red as her hair.

— she accidentally knocks a certificate off the wall when she tries to open up the window in natasha’s office. it’s only a small crack in the frame, but her mind sends her back to a place where any minor infraction was punishable. she’s an inconsolable wreck when natasha gets home but it’s reassured that it’s only a frame and it can be fixed.

— no because r would eat absolute shit and wanda doesn’t know whether to rush over and assess the damage or reprimand her for once again running next to the pool, but when he notices the blood that’s slowly tainting the pavement she’s at your side in minutes trying to calm you down

— the little bug gets a bug and she’s down bad. it’s only a day before natasha gets sick too, and wandas the last man standing. she never thought having two girlfriends would become having two whiny and clingy toddlers but alas she’s found herself in a position that’s not at all dissimilar. you’re clinging to her whenever she’s around and natasha’s whining for kisses despite turning her head away everytime wanda tries to give her one. “don’t kiss me, you’ll get sick too” and wanda just rolls her eyes because natasha’s fever is so high there’s no doubt she’ll forget by time she’s better. you and natasha get better and a week later wanda is sick… which nobody wants

— they compromise and let her have coconut shrimp and literally nothing else for dinner because apparently that’s “the only thing that i’m going to eat, my brain has been demanding it all day”

— no because i think it would come into play when natasha has to leave for another business trip! she’s suggests the life360 so you know where she is and that she’s safe if she can’t text back right away… and it does come in handy when you inevitably take off again

it is fucking brutal trying to type in the rain

[satureja13]

Since Ji Ho and Jack practice yoga and meditate to ease Jack's pain, they spend a lot of time together these days. And since Jack loves games so much, he teaches Ji Ho Sabacc. Usually Jack plays with Saiwa or Vlad but now that they are all so tense since Kiyoshi is back...

Jack: "Would you accompany me to the Temple later to let Arturo treat me? I can't wait to get rid of Kiyoshi's influence over me and all this pain. Tomorrow it's been a year since he became my Alpha and it went utterly downhill with me." Ji Ho hesitates, but he promised to be honest: "Um Jack, are you aware that it isn't Arturo who heals you? It's the magic of the Temple - and the Tree. And the Tree is Kiyoshi. He's the diety who gives Arturo his powers." No, of course Jack hadn't been aware of that.

Jack: "Very well then. I will avoid the Temple. And Kiyoshi. I can do this by myself. It already got a lot better, even though Kiyoshi is back and always around."

Ji Ho: "Are you sure? You live with this pain for months now." Jack: "Thanks to you I can almost do anything here. The yoga, meditating... I will set up a hot tub and skip the massages." Ji Ho: "I could ask Vlad if it's ok for him when I give you the massages?" Jack: "You would? I know this must be hard for you given that you learned how to do it at 'The House of the rising Sun' (the brothel where Ji Ho's mother used to work). But Vlad will be ok with it, I'm his best friend. Don't worry."

Speaking of Vlad. While Jack and Ji Ho play Sabacc, he, Jeb and Kiyoshi gathered with Saiwa to finally tell him the whole truth about 'Bird'...

Vlad: "... and then we found out that Kiyoshi didn't say 'I love Bird' but 'I like Fur' because his last blurred thoughts were about Jack, his real fated mate. And not about you. *Vlad sighs from the dephts of his soul before he's able to continue. He hates to hurt Saiwa* So it wasn't necessary to have a fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back..."

Saiwa exploded. His head was spinning. Jeb and him put their whole relationship on a risk for a misunderstanding of a muffled word and Jack's weird theory and a tattoo? Arturo already told them that Kiyoshi and Jack are fated mates but it seemed so weird that someone like Kiyoshi would love someone like Jack so Saiwa too thought there must have been something between them so Kiyoshi's last thoughts were about him - and that he were so special to him and the fake relationship needed to be done to help him come back... And now this! Since the Lab Saiwa hadn't felt so humiliated. He was only able to say one word, and that was: "RUN!"

And they ran... They know Saiwa well enough that nothing they could do or say now would be able to calm him down.

Saiwa even started to throw things at them!

Vlad is familiar with Saiwas temper and he knows he needs his time to cool down. And so they decided to go the only other place in Tomarang where they could stay - the Temple. There's always some work to do and they could also spend some time on their secret project which is supposed to help to make it up to the others. Now more important than ever.

Poor Jeb. What have they done. That's the first time Saiwa is mad at him after they broke up - because of Jack - and he doesn't know what to do. What if Saiwa leaves him - again. He wouldn't survive this. Vlad: "Let's leave before he hits us with something painful - or comes after us!"

And in the evening, when they came back from work, Vlad caught Ji Ho massaging Jack.

Vlad knows there is no reason to be jealous. Jack is his best friend and even the Bond lets him know that there's nothing to be upset about.

But it hurts. It reminds him of the times Ji Ho massaged him to charge the bond and he wishes his relationship with Ji Ho was different. That they finally could be together. His head knows how wrong this is and he wants to give Ji Ho all the time he needs and he would even give up on love if that meant Ji Ho could be happy without him. But his heart wants what his heart wants...

'It's savage and it's cruel And it shines like destruction Comes in like the flood And it seems like religion It's noble and it's brutal It distorts and deranges And it wrenches you up And you're left like a zombie

And I want you And I want you And I want you so It's an obsession

It's guilt edged Glamorous and sleek by design You know it's jealous by nature False and unkind It's hard and restrained And it's totally cool It touches and it teases As you stumble in the debris'

Love is a stranger - Eurythmics

Outtakes

Vlad in his room looking at his plasmafruit tree. He's so happy that he can finally eat real food! Plasma fruit are delicious - but having them day for day...

Jeb and Kiyoshi after teleporting ö.Ö'

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🛺 'Home happy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Black Tie Optional: Final Part

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings for this part: 18+ ONLY, SERIES FINAL REWRITE BECAUSE FUCK THAT REBAR, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"

Words in this part: 4,800

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

FINAL PART

The wedding party hits a few pubs on the way back to the hotel. Vanessa declares herself to be the “only sensible adult in this car” at their first stop and makes Sam take her place in the front passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

Dean watches her in his rearview mirror as she and Emma snap selfies in the backseat. From the very first moment he met her over a year ago, Dean knew she was special. She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s so real and funny and smart.  

Vanessa finally meets his gaze, and her eyelids flutter like they always do when she sees him like it’s the first time. He wonders if that’ll ever fade. Dean smiles, and she smiles back.

They pull up to the last bar and pile out onto the curb. 

Dean rounds the hood of the car to where Vanessa is waiting for him as Sam and Emma make their way inside.

“Ya know, that little twinkle in your eye and this dress’re makin’ it hard for me to be a gentleman.” He steps close and reaches for her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Who told you to be gentle?” Vanessa slides her hands inside his unbuttoned jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. When her fingers bump against cold steel, she tenses. “Oh-” 

Dean clasps his hands at the small of her back and looks down at her. “Just in case. OK?” 

Vanessa relaxes in his embrace and nods.

“Kay,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

She questions whether she should be troubled by the gun at his back. But she isn’t; in fact, the discovery serves to crystallize what she knows about him into the perfect shape of a man she trusts with her life, and her heart.   

“A’right, Big Guy,” Emma coos as Sam helps her out of the Impala for the last time of the evening. “You and me, utility closet.”

She smooths her hands over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulders. 

Sam cocks a brow as he lets the heavy backdoor close. “Well, then, I guess we better get movin’.”

Emma giggles, taking off in a sprint with Sam hot on her stilettoed heels. 

“They’re stealing our moves!” Vanessa laughs as Dean helps her onto the curb.

“Borrowing, kitten. No one’s takin’ that broom closet from us.”

Vanessa’s chest warms from his words and the look in his eyes. At one point, she thought Dean would be nothing more than a thrilling memory and story to tell, which sustained her for a while. Now, though, the ability to savor each moment, knowing that once their door closes tonight, he will make her feel like the most deserving, most treasured woman in the building, if not the galaxy, is sure to leave her wanting when he leaves tomorrow. She knows that now. 

“Yo, lovebirds,” Nicole calls. “Let’s get inside so they can announce the bride and groom and start dinner.” She nods toward the ballroom, and Dean and Vanessa reluctantly unwind from each other’s embrace to follow her and the others. 

Emma and Sam are MIA, but Nicole summons enough grace not to call it out. Once the wedding party and their dates are seated at the head table, Toni and her new husband enter the room. The guests cheer, and the first dance begins. 

During the first toast, the missing couple materializes at the head table, disheveled and flushed. Dean snorts a laugh as Sam takes a seat beside his date.

“Sammy, I gotta tell ya,” Dean leans across the table toward Sam. “I like the effect this girl’s got on you.”

Sam seems to blush darker, if possible. “Me, too,” he admits, flicking his bright gaze to meet Dean’s as Emma burrows into his side and the staff serves them salad.

The second course is served while Dean quietly immerses himself in a scenario where he and Sam aren’t hunting the sister of the Almighty. They’re bartenders or electricians with mortgages and dogs and car payments. The only reason either of them breaks a bone or bleeds is because of a mundane accident. They get eight hours of sleep at night and eat three meals a day. He regularly attends weddings and birthday parties with his beautiful girl at his side.

“Should we dance?” Vanessa’s voice creates a fissure of reality in his fantasy.

“Or maybe you don’t dance.” She tucks her chin to her chest and bats the thick dark lashes that frame her cerulean eyes. 

Dean’s momentarily speechless as his daydream twines its way around the very real, very tangible, very beautiful woman facing him with anticipation. She blinks, and he can almost feel the weight of his imagined existence settling around them, shimmering in the pin lights that hang from the rafters. 

“Dean?” Vanessa tilts her head with concern.

“It’d be an honor,” he answers, pushing away from the table to stand, offering her his hand.

Vanessa grins as she slides her hand across his open palm and stands to face him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Hmm. There’s that word again.”

They saunter toward the dancefloor, hand in hand and eye to eye, in time with the bluesy beat from Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” until they reach the edge. Dean drags her close with a flourish, one heavy hand at the small of her back, fingers teasing the skin that’s bared by the low-cut back of her silk dress, and the other lightly clasping her fingers in his palm. She rests her free hand over his heart and lets him lead the way. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“You did. The last time was about 30 minutes ago, between the mixed greens and beef tenderloin.”

Dean nods. “Then I’m due. You’re beautiful.”

Vanessa smiles.

“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Dean draws small circles over the silky skin of her lower back.

“Probably.” She smirks, and he grins back.

“Did I tell you how hard it’s gonna be to wait another- wait, how long do I have to wait to get you naked?”

Vanessa throws her head back with a hearty laugh.

They dance through Chris Stapleton, John Mayer, and Calvin Harris, chatting with Emma and Sam until the DJ declares a free-for-all, and the rest of the guests flood the dancefloor for “Uptown Funk”.

“Aaand I’m done.” Dean twirls Vanessa once before turning and forging a path through the oncoming crowd, taking Vanessa with him.

“Not feelin’ funky?” She teases. 

“Oh, I can be funky, but not that kinda funky.”

Before they get too far, Dean almost trips over Ari. He recovers quickly when the little girl stares up at him with big brown eyes that aggressively tug the strings of his heart.

“Ari, honey, you’re underfoot!” Silvia playfully scolds her granddaughter. “She just wants to dance.”

Ari sways side to side and bounces on the balls of her feet. 

“There ya go!” Vanessa croons, reaching for one of Ari’s hands to play along with her. She’s only slightly taken aback when Dean reaches for the little girl’s other hand.

Ari giggles and hops up and down as the trio dances back toward the crowd. There are other people Ari could dance with; her uncles and aunts are all there, but she seems drawn to Dean and Vanessa. Especially Dean.

The DJ really likes Bruno Mars because he follows “Uptown Funk” with “Count On Me”. Ari pulls her hand out of Vanessa’s grasp and reaches for Dean to pick her up, and Dean doesn’t falter.

Unlike Vanessa, Sam is floored by Dean’s eagerness to entertain the pre-schooler. He watches with unrestrained curiosity. 

“It’s pretty sweet of him to look after Ari like that,” Emma says, resting her temple against Sam’s chest as she watches the little girl twine her fingers with Dean’s.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Dean’s good with kids. I’m just not used to seeing him with kids for pure enjoyment.”

Emma looks up at him, brow arched. “Is that an allusion to the family business?” 

Sam startles before meeting her curious gaze with a shrug. “I guess it is.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s complicated.”

Emma chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”

“No, I mean it.” He pauses, thinking about the times he didn’t tell the people he cared about what he did with his life, and they still died. “But... I’ll tell you about it. Later.”

“Are you sure?” Emma marvels.

“I’m sure.”

Five feet away, Vanessa watches Dean slowly shuffling side to side, holding the little girl on his hip. He spins in a circle like a Disney prince twirling his princess — like chivalry and devotion are embedded in his DNA. She wants to shower him with that kind of affection and tenderness, not just lust. And she’s fully aware of how hard she’s fallen for him with no way of getting up.

After a couple of songs, Ari has settled her head on Dean’s shoulder. A yawn and an eye rub beckon Silvia to collect her granddaughter for bed.

“Come on, Cinderella.” Silvia reaches for Ari, and Dean hands her over. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin right here in front of everyone.”

Ari nuzzles her grandma, waving to Dean as Vanessa takes her place as Dean’s dance partner. The couple waves back, bidding goodnight to Silvia and the little girl.

Dean refocuses his attention on his date, skimming an arm around her waist to pull her close. 

Vanessa fiddles with his tie a little before speaking. It’s been such a nice night. She doesn’t want it to end. 

“To answer your question from earlier, we can go upstairs any time you want after they cut the cake. But I have plans for tonight.” She meets his gaze. “So whatever you had in mind’s gonna have to wait.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “No arguments here.”

As promised, once the cake is cut, Vanessa leads Dean to their suite. They have the elevator to themselves. As the doors close, Vanessa turns and slides her hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

Dean smirks, mimicking her soft touch as he skirts his hands around her waist. 

“You’ve been with me all night, kitten — don’t have to think too much.” 

She shakes her head, her fingertips dancing over the ultrasoft nape above his collar. 

“What you did for Ari tonight was incredibly generous. I just want to show you the same kind of warmth and generosity.”

Dean scoffs and fidgets under her scrutiny, pulling her closer so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “She’s a kid; it ain’t hard to be nice to kids.”

Vanessa gently pushes back a few inches to look at him. “It wasn’t just nice, Dean. You danced with her because her dad couldn’t be there. You salvaged the heart of a 4-year-old.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, and Vanessa keeps a hold on his wrists.

“I mean it.” 

Dean sighs and finally stops hedging away as he settles his wary gaze on her.

“I know next to nothing about your background — your family, your day-to-day life — but I see the way your brother looks at you — like you hung the moon. And you give me confidence in a way no man has since my dad died.”

Dean’s brow furrows, and he steps back in to draw her closer. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, that’s not why I told you that.” She steps away and sighs. 

The doors open at their floor, and she steps out of the car, pulling him with her in silence until they reach their suite. Dean keys the door open and ushers her inside. 

“I’m gonna get out of this dress, but I still have some things I want to say, so...” she turns to face him as she kicks her shoes off just outside their bedroom door. “Get comfortable.”

Dean braces himself. “Whiskey comfortable, or boxers comfortable?”

Vanessa chuckles. “Boxers.” 

She enters their bedroom and heads to the bathroom to change. After filling a couple of water glasses, Dean follows. He undresses down to his boxers and undershirt and zips away his formal attire in its garment bag. Just as he’s settling against the head of the bed to scroll his phone, Vanessa comes out in a bathrobe with her hair tied on top of her head.

Dean sets his phone aside. “I didn’t know bathrobes were sexy, but here we are.”

Vanessa grins as she climbs onto the bed and astride Dean’s hips. “Says you in your plain white undershirt and black boxer briefs. You’re beautiful.”

Dean tucks his chin to his chest, sliding his hands up her thighs to meet her bare hips. “What’d you wanna tell me?”

“Things I want you to know.” She smooths her hands from his shoulders over his chest and back again.

“Maybe you don’t wanna hear this from me, or maybe my opinion of this side of you doesn’t matter, but you’re a beautiful man, Dean, in every way imaginable — you’re beautiful. You’re tough and strong but soft in all the best ways.” 

Dean drops his gaze to his lap, carefully considering his next words. He can’t tell her about gods and monsters. He can’t show her the decades-old bloodstains on his hands. He’ll never be able to 100% guarantee her safety from the things that go bump in the night.

But he can tell her some things.

“My mom died when I was Ari’s age,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he meets her eyes. “Sammy was six months old.”

Vanessa clamps her teeth over her bottom lip, biting back the emotion that threatens to well in her eyes. She nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Dad never really recovered. We grew up on the road, in the Impala and cheap motels.” He tilts his head, and his lips twist with a wistful smile. “The family business is... we help people. In ways a lot of other people can’t.”  

“So, you’re not in the mob.”

“No, we’re not in the mob.”

“I’m a triage nurse. That’s why...” She motions to his scarred knuckles. “I recognize scars and injuries pretty quickly. It’s hard not to notice you and your brother’s.”

“Explains a lot,” Dean replies, thinking not only of her skills in assessing a situation but her instincts and her compassion.

“My dad was a cop,” she continues. “Killed in the line of duty. You remind me of him — in a good way — like how kind and attentive you are. That’s definitely not to say you’re like a dad to me.”

“Glad ya said that because I was startin’ to worry,” Dean chuckles.

“I don’t know if I can ever be as good as you,” she ponders. “As good as you are making people feel important — but I’d like to try to show you how you make me feel.”

“Mmm, is that the plan you had for tonight before we started talking serious shit?”

“Mmhm.” Vanessa nods. “The serious shit had to be said, but I know- I know this is a limited-time kinda thing. And I get it. My job is crazy, too. But I’ll think about you all the time, and I hope you’ll think about me.”

Dean studies her for a moment. The daydream from dinner floats back into his mind, but this time, she knows what he really does, accepts him, and he’s able to keep her safe. He wishes he could ask his dream self how it’s done.

“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, kitten.”

“Then let’s make the most of our last few hours, shall we?” She leans in for a long kiss, and Dean allows himself to be loved by her for one last night.

Dean sips his coffee as he and Sam depart the Windy City in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

“I told Emma,” Sam breaks the typically sanctioned early morning silence. 

“You told Emma what?” Dean grumbles.

“About us,” Sam answers. “What we do.”

Dean blinks. “Wow. And how-”

“She believed me. That was my biggest fear — that she’d think I was making it up or something.”

Memories of Cassie, furious and cold, fill Dean’s mind. She didn’t believe him, and, really, who could blame her? Their life is absurd.

“What brought that on?” Dean asks as he merges onto the interstate, headed east, poking around for leads on Amara.

“I like her, Dean. A lot.”

Dean’s quiet for a while. He doesn’t know how Sam’s going to keep this going; he wouldn’t be able to, but if anyone can do it, it’s Sam.

“So... now what?” Dean’s genuinely curious.

Sam shrugs. “We take it slow. Keep in touch. How’d you leave things with Vanessa?”

“Left it where it’s at,” Dean answers immediately.

Sam rolls his eyes to look out the windshield and sighs. “So you think I made a mistake?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s me, Sam. I’d fuck it up. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it; Dean’s made his mind up. 

When Dean tells him that Vanessa knows more about his scars and wounds than a typical civvy, Sam tells him what he knows about Vanessa -- that she’s a triage nurse. He tells Dean that Emma’s also a nurse and that Nicole’s a surgeon. Dean’s response is less than appreciative.

“You know what, Sammy? I can do without the updates. I left it there for a reason. Drop it.” He gave Sam the same edged look that accompanied a threat to break his nose if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben again, and Sam silently agreed to his conditions.   

But Sam cares more about Emma with every passing phone call. She’s intelligent and rational enough to handle the knowledge of what they do, so he keeps her as apprised of his life as she does of hers. Over the next few years, he grows to openly love her in a fully rounded, adult way that he’s never known. 

He begins to pity and then, later, resent Dean for ‘leaving it there’ because Sam loves Emma. He wants a real life with her. He knows that choosing to keep Emma in his life has made his life better, and he believes Vanessa could do the same for Dean.

Then one night, four years later, Sam and Dean end up in a place that demands Dean re-evaluate leaving Vanessa behind.

Canton, Ohio...

“Alright, let’s go find those kids and get them outta here.” Sam sheaths his machete.

“Sam. I don't-” Dean groans. “I don't think I'm goin’ anywhere.”

“What?” Sam looks over at his brother where he’s awkwardly stood against a post. “What’re you talking about?” 

“There's somethin’ in my- somethin’ in my back. Feels like it's right through me.”

Sam walks closer, reaching around Dean's back. When he brings his hand into the dim light, he sees it’s covered with blood. 

“Alright, umm.” Sam looks around the barn, wiping his hand on his pants as he reaches for Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on. OK. I got you.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Don't- don't move me. It feels like this thing's holdin’ me together right now.”

Sam huffs, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Emma.”

“What? No. Just- just gimme a minute.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. No more minutes. Emma’s an ER nurse. Here in Canton. I’m calling her.”

Sam paces toward the barn door.

“Sam! Stay wi- stay with me. Can you stay with me, please?” Dean’s breath is labored, and his eyelids flutter.

Sam turns back to face his brother, keeping one hand on his shoulder while he holds the phone with his other. “I’m right here, man. I got you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Emma's voice comes across the speakerphone clear and concise.

“We’re in a barn about seven miles north of the town center. I sent you a pin. Dean’s... impaled... on a piece of rebar. Against a post.”

Dean groans again. “Sammy-”

“Fuck. OK.” Emma’s voice is temporarily muffled, and then it’s obvious by the rushed way she’s speaking that she’s running. “Where’s the entry wound?”

“His back. I think his heart.” Sam winces as his brother’s head lolls and sways. 

“Did it come through his chest?” She asks before muttering to someone on her end of the line to ‘head to the old barn down the road’.

“No- no, nothing in the front. Just the back. His clothes are soaked.”

“OK. Van’s calling the paramedics.”

“What?!” Dean wails, suddenly alert. “No! Not Nessa.” 

“...but we’ll get there faster,” Emma continues despite Dean’s protestation. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna need help covering up whatever you were fighting.”

Sam would tell Emma not to bring her roommate and best friend if his brother wasn’t dying before his eyes. He wants to honor Dean’s wishes to keep her safe, but he’s exhausted by Dean’s insistence that telling her is a bad idea. 

“Dean, this is happening,” Sam says before resuming his conversation with Emma. “Five vamps. How far are you?”

“We’re literally 60 seconds away. Do not remove him from the rebar until we get there. Find something to cut him down, and we’ll help. Hang in there.”

“See you then,” Sam says to Emma before disconnecting his call. 

“Nessa can’t- I can’t let her see me, this...” Dean pleads. 

“She can and she will. You’re not dying today. Emma knows everything, and Vanessa isn’t stupid. They’re coming to keep you alive, and I’m not arguing with you about this anymore.”

Sam quickly glances around the room until he locates the kind of tool he needs. “As soon as they get here, I’m grabbing those bolt cutters and cutting you down. We’ll go outside and wait for the paramedics. I’ll take the boys somewhere safe and meet you at the hospital.”

“All this time... was tryna keep her safe, away from all this.” Dean hangs his head.

Sam lifts his chin. “Dean, she’s strong. If there was ever a time to let her in, it’s now.”

Right on cue, Emma and Vanessa race through the door with bags of first aid supplies. 

“Get the bolt cutters; we’ll hold him up,” Emma instructs, removing what looks like a camping chair from an orange bag and turning it into an emergency gurney.

Then Vanessa takes over for Sam.

“Nessa,” Dean whispers as she cups his face in her hands. “I’m so- sorry. I couldn’t-”

Vanessa sniffs and shakes back tears “No apologies. Just stay with me. I need to assess the damage here, OK?”

He blinks slowly and gives her a lazy nod. 

“Where’s most of the pain, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head to stay awake, blinking rapidly. “At the entry. Everything else just feels... warm.”

“OK.” She moves to the side to give Emma room to take Dean’s other side as Sam works on the rebar with the bolt cutters. “Get as close as you can, Sam.”

She finally glances around the barn to see several decapitated bodies, the heads donned with masks. Her blood runs cold, and her heart races.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t look at them; look at me, honey.”

Vanessa drags her gaze from the grisly scene to Dean’s pale face. She nods and gives him a weak smile before wedging herself under the opposite arm as Emma, keeping her eyes on him as he asked.

“Your breathing is labored. I’m guessing Sam’s right, and it’s your heart.” Tears fill her eyes as Dean tilts his head to rest against hers. She whispers. “Maybe your left lung. You’re lucky. Nicole’s one of the top Vascular surgeons in the country.”

“OK, I got a grip on this thing. Count of three,” Sam says before counting down and cutting clean through the steel.

The women hold him steady while Sam helps guide Dean to the stretcher and carry him outside.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes as Vanessa kneels beside him. “If I make it through this-”

“When. Not if.” She dips in to kiss him, hovering over him while Sam and Emma work quickly to hide the bodies in the barn. “You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna tell me what I just saw in there.”

Dean blinks, and tears roll from his eyes. “I will, honey. I will.”

The paramedics arrive moments after Sam and Emma exit the barn. Vanessa gives them his vitals and a partially fabricated info dump as they work to stabilize him. As they load him into the ambulance, she climbs in.

“I got him, Sam. Meet us at the hospital.” She closes the doors, and the ambulance takes off. 

Dean wakes up in a brightly lit room. He remembers bits and pieces of a conversation that he fears and prays is real. When his vision clears, and he sees the person beside his bed, he’s 90% sure of what he remembers.

“Nicole?” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You an angel?” 

Nicole smirks and arches a brow. “Cute. I’m your surgeon, tough guy. This is what we call a post-op check.”

He’s now 100% sure.

“Post-op? What op?” He tries to joke as he shifts his weight very slightly and groans in pain. 

“You showed up here last night with a hunk of steel through your heart and lung. I took it out.” She checks his pulse, pokes at him, and prods. Dean’s 90% sure she’s being a little rougher than normal. “Good thing your brother didn’t ghost Emma like you ghosted Van.” 

“Ow!” And 100% it is.

“And, hmm,” she taps her chin. “You do know my name.”

“‘Course I do, I’s just fuckin’ with ya.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. I’ll be back later to check in again. Meanwhile, there’s a couple of people here to see you.”

Nicole draws the curtain that separates Dean from the rest of the room. On the other side sits Sam and Vanessa.

“Eat something if you’re hungry; otherwise, rest.”

Nicole breezes out of the room, leaving Dean with Vanessa and Sam, the latter of whom stands next to Dean’s bed, looking down at his bruised and bandaged brother with a tired smile. 

“You hungry? I can order you some food.”

“I’m starvin’, man. Get somethin’ bad for me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”

He gives Vanessa a pointed look as he leaves the room.

Vanessa remains seated on the vacant bed across from Dean’s. She’s silent and thoughtful.

“You uhh, workin’?”

She shakes her head. “Just finished my shift.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t know if he should jump right in or what, so he asks her a question.

“How much do you know?”

She draws a deep breath and sighs. “That you saved two little boys and probably dozens more the other night.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Vampires are real.”

“Jesus,” Vanessa whispers, standing and moving to the side of his bed. She grasps his hand tightly. “What else?”

“Ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, werewolves, fuckin’ demons. They’re all real. Angels.” He squeezes her hand. “Angels are dicks, by the way, which is kinda shitty that I asked Nicole if she was one after she saved my life.” 

He chuckles, and Vanessa huffs a surprised laugh before settling on the edge of his bed. She strokes his forehead, and he hums. “I won’t say I wish you’d told me before now because I’m just grateful you’re alive to tell me now. Your recovery will be lengthy. You’ll need physical therapy.”

Dean reaches for her other hand, twining their fingers together and waiting for her to meet his gaze. “OK.”

“I’m not your doctor, so I can’t advise you officially, but as someone who loves you, I hope you’ll stay long enough for me to help and... for us to get reacquainted.”

Dean grins, realizing just how bone tired he truly is. He yawns through his grin and tugs her close. 

Vanessa dips in to press a kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and his lips. “Please stay,” she whispers.

Dean tilts his chin and meets her lips again, brushing back and forth. “OK, kitten. You got me. As long as you want me.”

When Sam returns to Dean’s room, he finds Vanessa curled around him, keeping him safe and warm. She and Dean are both fast asleep, smiling and breathing steadily.

Sam leaves the macaroni and cheese on a tray and backs away to leave them in peace.

Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[kindnessisweakness2]

10

Emily winced as the needle glided over her hip bone. She liked the pain but sometimes when the needle hit that sweet spot she couldn't help but bite down hard on her lip or pull a funny face. "So i heard that someone has become quite the special guest around Charming royalty." Emily's tattooist Mimi grinned as she continued to ink the dark black lines across the curve of her hip. Emily couldnt help but roll her eyes, a smile spreading on her face at the mention of Jax. "I dont know where you heard that Mimi, maybe the Charming gossips are wrong this time." Mimi pulled a skeptical face, the smile never leaving her. "Well if thats the case, why are all the girls in this shitty town having a crisis over the fact that Jax hasn't slept with anyone since a certain someone stormed into TM?" Mimi wiggled her eyes at a shocked Emily. There was no way Jax wasn't sleeping around. The girl she put in her place last night was clearly a recent fling. Jax's sex life was nothing to do with her. Before she could overthink it anymore, the bell above the shop door rang. Mimi removed her gloves before heading to the reception area.

Emily took the moment to breathe. She was having a 6 hour session today and was already 3.5 hours in. Cara was having a lazy day, trying to ease the hangover she was left with after last nights party. "Em, you have a visitor." Mimi spoke breaking Emily's thoughts. Maybe Cara decided to actually leave her bed today. "Oh okay-" Shifting to her side as much as she could, trying to keep her position on the bed, Emily shoved the privacy screen back fully expecting to see her best friend. Instead she found Jax stood there looking as sexy as ever, holding a TO-GO bag from Harry's Diner. Emily's eyes widened in embarrassment, she was currently half naked on the tattoo chair and clearly was not expecting her visitor to be Jax. Jax's eyes widened for a completely different reason. She was fucking sexy as hell lay on the bed in nothing but a black thong and a black V-Neck cropped shirt. The ink on her legs and stomach just added to the awe of her. The designs contrasting against her sunkissed skin. Her hair pulled high into a messy bun and her face bare of any make up. Clearing his throat Jax had to force his brain to form words. "I know you mentioned your appointment yesterday, and i thought id stop by with food." Jax could feel his cheek's tinge pink and he hated it. Emily smiled at him, patting the stool next to her. "Take a seat Teller, you can feed me while Mimi here inflicts pain on me." Mimi giggled as she took her seat, pulling on a new pair of gloves. "So much for wrong gossips aye?" She quipped. Emily shot her a look before turning to Jax as he sat on the stool. "I also need to give you the heads up that Juice is currently in your house. I think him and Cara really hit it off." Jax spoke as he opened the bag of food pulling out a coke for her. Emily smiled as she gratefully accepted the drink. "Thats fine. From the way Cara talked about him last night i think he's going to be a regular at my house. She's really into him. Hopefully he doesnt take it too hard when she goes home though, shes only here for 3 weeks." Jax nodded holding out the tray of fries for her, Emily leaning over as much as she could to feed Mimi a few. "So there was one other thing i needed to talk to you about." Emily leaned back in the chair, wincing as Mimi started shaving on the sensitive curve of her hip. Biting her lip she looked up at Jax, nodding for him to carry on so he knew she was listening. Jax's breath hitched in his throat as he looked at her. God the urge to push her back and take her right there on the tattoo chair was immense. Clearing his throat he mentally kicked himself and forced his brain to form words. "I'm going away for a few days. Up to Nevada to see my uncle." Emily hated how the words made her stomach sink. It made her realise how attached to him she had gotten. "You dont have to explain yourself to me Jax. Enjoy the time with your family." Jax smiled at her and it made her heart leap in her chest. Just like every other girl he flashed his pearly whites at. The reality was she was at the bottom of a very long list of women who would give their left leg to be the one Jax chose to have a life with. She could deny it to everyone else but couldnt to herself anymore. She genuinely liked him. "Well the thing is some of the guys are going with me, so we're all leaving from the clubhouse in the morning. I was wondering if you'd come by? Alot of the old ladies and family will be there. Cara can say bye to Juice and i can see you before i go." Emily's cheeks glowed pink as she realised he wanted her there. He wanted to see her. Mimi turned to wipe her tattoo gun and collect more ink. Emily was thankful for the momentary break, her skin was warm and sore after almost 4.5 hours in the chair. Making eye contact with Mimi as she leaned down to resume the assault on her skin, she didnt miss the smirk and knowing look she recieved. "Sure why not. Ill never hear the end of it if Cara doesnt see Juice off."

Both of them grinned wide at each other. Emily happy that he'd admitted he wanted to see her, but trying to keep her metaphorical feet on the ground that they were just friends. Even if her head wanted to be up in the clouds day dreaming about what her and Jax could have.

Jax was happy that he got her to agree, knowing already that he would miss her terribly the next few days while he visited Jury.

He hadnt even left Charming yet and he already regretted agreeing to the visit.

************************************************************************

Here you go guys!

I hope you are all enjoying this. Apolgies it has been so long since posting, i have been having issues with my account!

Let me know what you think so far and where you would like to see this go!

[eyes-of-rock]

Love Again

Bruce Kulick X Rockstar OC

Chapter One

Plot: Ren was once a guitar icon in the late 80s, but now it's 1992. Her heart and band broke, and now she's a shell of her former self. Her sister thinks Bruce might be the man to help her get her spark back, so with the help of her fiance, Eric, they devise a plan to get them together.

Bruce’s POV

“Thanks for letting me borrow your car, baby.” Alexandra, Eric’s girlfriend, thanks him by kissing him.

I looked over at the wrong moment. Of course, I'm happy for him; he has a less-than-great dating history and deserves it. She’s also his fiance, so of course they will do that. It's just that you don't want to see your buddy making out with someone.

She’s here with her teenage sister, who looks unimpressed to be in the room with an old rock band. She keeps rolling her eyes and pulling annoyed faces. I guess some things never change, and teenagers is one of them.

“Can we go now?” She asks once Alexandra stops kissing Eric.

“Yes, we're going,” Alexandra says, annoyed at her attitude, as they disappear out the door.

I turn my attention back to my guitar and the rehearsal at hand. The tour is in a couple of weeks, and we've been rehearsing like crazy to ensure everything is tight.

“You guys are coming to the party, right?” Eric asks me, Gene and Paul.

The party is his engagement party. It’s wild to think that soon, I’ll be the only one in KISS who's not married. Gene isn't legally married, but he might as well be. He has two kids with Shannon. Paul recently got married, and now Eric. That leaves me. I did almost get married once, but that never worked out.

“We’re all coming,” Paul speaks for all of us.

“Doesn’t she have like six sisters? Gene asks, looking at Eric.

“Yup,” Eric says, “and they all live together; for now, once we get married, Alexandra is going to live with me.”

“That house must be something else,” Paul comments.

“It’s a mansion. Her sister, who's three years older than her, is Ren Blix. She was the guitarist of the band Savage Seduction.” Eric informs us all.

Many years ago, on my first tour with KISS, we went on a tour with them. I remember thinking Ren was a very talented guitar player. They took off during that tour and went on to headline arenas worldwide, having a few hit songs that got to number one. Then they disappeared. I haven't heard anything about them since then.

“Oh yeah, I remember her.” Gene pipes up, “It’s a small world.”

“I wonder what ever happened to them?” Paul ponders, “I haven't heard anything about them in years.”

“I have no idea.” Eric shrugs, “The party is at the house, so you could always ask Ren.”

“I might.” Paul shrugs, “Now, let's get back to rehearsals.

——————————————————

Ren’s POV

It's wild to think my sister is getting married to a member of KISS. I remember back in 1984 when I toured with them as the opening act. That was the tour where Savage Seduction took off. The tour where we got our first number-one song and album. That tour holds a special place in my heart.

During the tour after that, we headed to the arenas with our opening act. The way it would be for the rest of our careers until the band's bitter end. I wish he hadn't ended how it ended.

It still hurts. Jayce was my first love and musical companion since we were thirteen. We built a whole life together, and I thought we'd never lose that. How stupid I was. We were kids in love who thought nothing would change that. Of course, time and fame change everything.

Hindsight is 50/50. You should never start a band with your boyfriend. I know that. I just thought, hey, it will be different for us. We’ve known each other since we were thirteen; nothing can tear us apart, but time and fame will find a way.

We drifted apart, but we kept holding on like idiots. We didn't want to ruin the band we worked so hard to create. We might have been able to save it if we just let go, but we didn't.

He cheated on me. He cheated on me a lot. Then, it was published in a tabloid magazine to rub salt into the wound. He published it. He fucking humiliated me like that. He exposed his unfaithfulness to the world and made me look like an idiot. The band ended because we couldn't be in the same room anymore.

I’m happy for my sister. I am. Eric seems like a good guy. Then again, so did Jace; we know how that turned out. I still want to stay optimistic about my sister even if I'm overly loved. That's why I'm throwing her this engagement party.

I look into the living room and spot my youngest sister, Cassidy, who’s thirteen, yapping someone's ear off. She loves to talk and will talk about anything with anyone. Tonight, her victim seems to be Bruce Kulick.

He's the guitar player of KISS. If I remember correctly, my tour with them was his first. I've met him before, but that tour was hectic, so we didn't interact much.

He's politely listening to her Yap. Which is nice of him, but I feel bad for the guy. He's getting yapped at by a thirteen-year-old girl about god knows what.

“Oh hey, Ren!” She greets me enthusiastically. “She’s also a guitarist.”

“I know; I've seen her play before,” Bruce replies politely with a small smile.

“We toured together before,” I tell Cassidy.

“Oh, cool!” She says excitedly.

“Cass, come here. I have got to show you something!” My sixteen-year-old sister, Jade, comes running into the room.

“Okay!” Cassidy says, “Nice talking to you! Bye!”

“Bye.” Bruce laughs as she disappears with our sister to see who knows what.

“I’m sorry about her.” I apologize, “She loves to talk.”

“It's fine; she's a nice kid,” Bruce says, waving it off.

“I was just admiring that guitar.”

He points to my Ibanez costume. The one with my matt dark purple finish and fuck off written on the back with sparkly black paint.

I have one on my living room wall as decoration and the other in my guitar room. The one on the wall has never actually been played. It's just a backup in case the other one gets stolen. The other guitar has seen many gigs, though. I played it almost exclusively for years.

It's displayed in the living room, face down the back is what's being shown to the world and the fuck off.

“Thanks.” I smile, “You had some nice ones, too; I love the radioactive one. Your guitar work on Crazy Nights is great.”

“Thanks, that means a lot is coming from you.” He smiles, “I still have that guitar.”

“I’m a guitar hoarder, so I still have all of mine.” I laugh, “I can show you more if you want.”

“I always love looking at guitars.” He tells me.

“Me too.” I laugh, “That’s just a guitarist thing, I think.”

“I think you’re right.” Bruce agrees as I lead him to my guitar room.

I must admit it's nice to talk guitars with someone again. I haven't done that in two years and never realized how much I miss it.

——————————————————

Alexandra’s POV

It’s been about two years since I've seen my sister engaged in conversation with anyone who isn't in our family ever since Jace broke her heart and destroyed her life in the process.

She’s pretty much been a shut-in. Which I hate seeing. She used to be much different. She lost her spark. For the first time in forever, I see that spark again in her eyes when she’s talking to Bruce.

Bruce has always been a nice guy. From the moment I met him, he's been nice to me. He's also a guitar player, just like her. Maybe he's precisely what Ren needs to get out of this slump.

The cheating is the straw that broke the camel's back, but in my opinion, Jace never treated her right. He was talking down to her, but she never saw that. It pissed all of us off.

She deserves better, and maybe Bruce is that better. How do I pull this off, though? I know Ren, and she's never going to take my suggestions.

“Eric?” I ask my lovely fiance.

“Yes?” He replies.

“Is Bruce single?”

“Yup, he almost got married once, but it didn't work out.” He tells me, “Why?”

“I was thinking of maybe getting Ren and him together,” I suggest.

“That's not a bad idea.” Eric agrees with me. “But how are we going to make that happen?”

“Leave it to me,” I tell him; I have just the plan.

[or0ch1maru]

i have an idea for some angsty headcanons.

reader got into an accident/fight and got a brain injury making her loose some memories, ability to communicate, walk etc.

For a solid three minutes I was playing eenie meenie miney mo, trying to pick who I wanted for this lol. Soooooo tonight will consist of some angst with our sadistic bby who has a hard time expressing his emotions😩

Warnings?: argument, reader being called stupid, slight memory loss, raised tone of voice. Comfort but not until the end

Hidan x GN reader😘

•

•you cursed that shinobi, the one who caused you to lose some of your memories

•because now, you’re stuck in an uncomfortable argument with your partner

•it was rare that Hidan got upset with you, he usually got pissed off with Kakuzu, or an enemy when on a mission, but it still stung when his tone changed and he’d look away from you when speaking

• “it’s not my fault this happened..” you pouted, trying to defuse the situation.

•losing your memory and receiving a head injury was NOT your fault in the slightest. The rogue shinobi you fought against, did their research and knew your weaknesses.

•which was only one. Hidan

• “if you weren’t so stupid, we wouldn’t be having this conversation” Hidan retorted back. His tone shifted, being one full of frustration.

•this fight started when Hidan had mentioned plans you two put together a few weeks ago, but that obviously changed after your accident.

•the day came around and you forgot. He had wanted to take you out for a nice dinner and movie date. The two of you being so busy with back to back missions that you two barely got a full nights rests in the same bed before having to run off.

• “I-.” You would start, opening and closing your mouth multiple times before giving up entirely. Not sure what can help calm down your lover.

• “shut up.” He snaps over his shoulder at you. Tears begin to burn in the corners of your eyes. You’d wish he’d just tell you what was wrong but it’s not always that easy.

•being a member of the akatsuki, let alone dating one would always come with risks and complications.

•they all come from a difficult past, some worse than others. All coming with trauma and issues of some kind

•and you knew that, and it didn’t stop you from falling in love with Hidan. The most sadistic being of this entire group

• “please, just tell me what’s wrong.” You manage to say. Your tone soft, unlike your usual confident voice.

• “it’s nothing important.” Your grey haired lover begins. His tone laced with annoyance. Deep down he knows this isn’t your fault, and he tried his hardest not to let it affect him. Some days just being harder than others for him.

• “apparently today wasn’t special enough for you to remember. What kind of partner are you anyway?” Your heart drops, he doesn’t mean it. He’d never mean something so hurtful. Is what you tell yourself.

• “it’s not my fault…” you say again, the four words fall from your mouth through a choked sob.

•ever since your accident, you’d notice you would forget the smallest of things. Like where you placed the remote after you paused a movie or heating something up in the microwave, only to be reminded when somebody went to use it later on.

•but over the few weeks since you hit your head, the nagging feeling of worthlessness have hit you harder and harder.

•you felt like a failure as a comrade, a ninja, and as a partner. Just like Hidan said, what kind of partner are you if you can’t remember something so basic and easy.

• “get out. Just get out.” You cocked your head and looked at him, his back still turned towards you and you could see the strain he’s putting on himself to avoid looking at you

•which only made you feel even worse

•you crawled out of the comfort of his bed, nervously playing with the sleeves of your jacket as you walked towards the door. “I’m sorry..” the two words fall from your lips quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. But you were still loud enough that he heard you.

•you slipped out of his room without another peep, and disappeared into the confines of yours.

•over the span of a few hours, you’d gone through a range of emotions. Your cries turned to anger, cursing the person who caused this, to telling yourself that you’re okay, and then back to crying.

•sometime during this, you fell asleep, arms wrapped tightly around one of your pillows, wishing it was your boyfriend

•it was late into the evening at this point. Hidan had a lot of time to reflect on how he treated you. Feeling like shit, he opened your door, finding you sleeping. A small smile formed on his face at how cute you looked

• “baby. Love, wake up.” Your partners voice gently pulled you from your rest. You open your eyes, finding him hovering over you. One arm holding him up while the other sits on your waist.

• “I’m sorry. I was an ass to you.” Hidan’s usual gruff voice was soft, his voice a whisper as he finds his words. He lowers his forehead until it’s touching yours.

• “there’s no excuse for how I acted. It’s not your fault. None of this is okay? I love you baby.” He coos, planting soft kisses along your jawline before pressing his lips against yours.

•the two of you stayed like that for a while, snaking your arms around the back of his neck. The immortal flipped, now laying on his back while you straddle his hips. Hands planted firmly on his torso.

• “I’d understand if you don’t forgi-.” He starts, you cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips. “Stop talking. It’s okay. It’ll take us time to get used to this. Just wish we didn’t have to, you know?” He nods, his eyes wide, full of patience and love as he looks at you.

• “just do me one solid okay?” He states, his hands palming the soft flesh of your hips and upper thighs. “If I ever, and I mean ever, speak to you like that again, I give you permission to smack the fuck outta me.” He finishes, a smile toying on the corner of his lips but his expression is firm. Letting you know he truly means what he’s saying.

•you press another kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him. “Okay.” You say softly, giving him a gentle smile. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. His fingers pressing into the muscles of your back, loosening all the knots and built up tension you’re carrying. A faint chuckle leaving his lips when a snore falls from your mouth.

[fsfghgee]

I think that in an AU maybe their father/Grandmaster was actually harsh on Bi-Han because he's the first born and the moment Kuai Liang came he only shows care to him. When Tomas is now part of it, he became another favorite.

Bi-Han would have felt horrible and angry at his father for such emotional switch up.

Maybe later Tomas tries to comfort his older brother and seek friendship. Emotional things bad or good can happen and both had the sex.

For Bi han it was a relief and freedom, for Tomas it was everything. Then quick bi han harshly rejects Tomas and leaves, leaving Tomas with a broken heart!

Bi Han being too angry again when someone tries to flirt with Tomas.

Bi Han needs help at this point!

HOT SPRING

Bi-Han x Tomas

- You will make the Lin Kuei stronger than ever. I have faith in you.

After another day of hard training under his father's command, Bi-Han leaned on the memories of his dear mother combing his hair, whispering words of comfort, strengthening their resolve...

- What if I don't make it, mother? A-And if they…

- No one is better than a Lin Kuei. - His mother's sweet voice intoned, but Bi-Han knew well that she wasn't angry.

He relaxes even more when he feels the pressure of his mother's soft lips on the back of his head, closing his eyes to enjoy the affection. There was no better place in the world to go back to his old self than protected, wrapped and caressed by the matriarch's arms.

- You will bring glory to our clan and make them proud to have you as their leader, in the same way I am proud to have you as my son.

- Mother…

No. He couldn't fall apart...

He would not fail the Lin Kuei...

He wouldn't let her down now...

She had taught him to be strong and withstand all the trials imposed by his father. All the hours of studying, all the hard training…

Missions that challenged the limits of his body and mind, all to make him, the heir to the clan, a perfect Grandmaster.

- You remain unworthy.

“I will show you.”

________

- I love winter!

- Shouldn't you wear warmer clothes? - Looking Tomas up and down, he was worried about the youngest wearing the summer uniform as if the extreme low temperature and snow that surrounded them didn't affect him at all. - How can you not feel cold when you are just a…

Swallowing the words before they all came out, Kuai Liang looked away. He didn't want to offend his younger brother or put him down like Bi-Han often did.

- You forget that I grew up hunting in temperatures even colder than this, Kuai Liang. - With his back to his brother from another mother, he leaned down just to make a snowball. - The cold has never affected me negatively. On the contrary, just fuels my combat 'till these days.

- Oh, no... - Kuai Liang was indignant when he was caught off guard by Tomas' quick movement, wiping the remaining snow from his hair and face. - You won't get away with this!

Tomas laughed as he ran away from the other, stopping a few times to quickly create other snowballs and counterattack.

- There's no point in hiding! - The pryomancer went deeper into the forest, looking for the typhomancer who had run inside first. Tomas hadn't specialized in Typhomancy for nothing, since his first trainings he had left masters impressed with his natural talent for stealth. - I'll find you...

- Tomas.

- Too slow. - He laughed, imagining how angry the pryomancer would be at being hit with yet another snowball, but his smile soon faded when he saw who he had hit. - Bi-Han? -The growl and deadly glare directed at him caused a shiver of fear to run through his insides. - S-Sorry. I'm so sorry! I thought you were...

- Still wasting my brother's time with your stupid jokes?! - Before he could get any closer, Bi-Han pushed him away with a gust of icy wind. - Let him know that father wants to see him. I'll be back in a few days.

- W-Where are you going?

- Do what some of us were born to do. Something you will never be able to understand. - He stated snobbishly, looking him up and down. - Hunting dog.

________

  “Bi-Han!”

“Help me, son!”

“Bi-Han!”

- It's better this way. - Bi-Han immersed himself in the thermal water, letting the heat undo the knots in his back, ease the tension in his muscles, caress his skin and comfort him in the midst of his disturbing thoughts.

He did what had to be done.

The Lin Kuei would always fight for him, his most loyal followers would always watch his back and his brother would always be by his side.

The future would be perfect.

- I must train harder. - Tomas muttered to himself as he undressed. Having been defeated once again by Cyrax, he wondered why his older brother refused to help him with his training. - If Bi-Han wasn't so selfish, he would… - He had already taken off all his clothes, leaving his skin exposed to the heat of the place, when the sight of another person in the fountain frightened him, causing his muscles to tense up again. - Bi-Han?

Only family members of the Grandmaster had access to that place. And Kuai Liang had just left when he said goodbye on the way to the hot spring.

- Keep silent or get out of here.

- R-Really? You don't mind that I... - Noticing the older man's increasingly hard gaze, he fell silent and took a deep breath to calm down.

A calm that was short-lived, anxiety growing as he became more lost in thought as he observed the older man's relaxed features.

He was so different that way…

Almost vulnerable.

Tomas had promised himself to protect his new family.

He swore a public oath to the Lin Kuei, but the oath in his heart and mind that day was different.

A personal, silent and secret vote.

Even if unrequited, he would be faithful to that vow until his last breath.