#one day i'll draw something other than angst

[yiirlzsinked]

Fate by Harold Forster, 1930 - Reimagined

[pirateprincessblog]

prefects and t(h)reats

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you haven't been lurking the castle at night since the day you cost your house a lot of points and the slytherin prefect scolded you. long enough has passed, and you might want to start doing that again. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: harry potter universe, slytherin!seonghwa, hufflepuff!reader, smut, bit of angst (seonghwa being a piece of shit(basic slytherin) towards the reader and her friends) 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: spanking, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: idk, cursing i guess 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: something got fucked in the process of posting this so if you see any repeating paragraphs do let me know my eyes aren't working anymore :D !everyone is of age, regardless of the year they are in. also, i may or may not have a finger sucking kink or whatever you call that :) also, i so did NOT use a twd negan reference here. just ignore that.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"ugh! that snape will be the reason i get sent to azkaban, mark my words! i spent ages trying to perfect that mood colour changing sweater, and he just confiscated- wait, what?"

"what, what is it?"

"did our bloody house points get deducted again?"

just your luck, you need to pass by them to get to your next class. you wish you had perfected the disillusionment charm, it would be very helpful right now.

"you."

ignoring the voice that speaks clearly to you, you hug your books to your chest and quicken your pace, attempting to ascend the stone stairs and vanish into the divination classroom. suddenly, your elbows are seized by two familiar pairs of hands, drawing you back to stand before the house points display. indeed, the hourglass under the hufflepuff banner is noticeably less full than it was just the day before. and it may or may not be your fault. again.

"listen to me, honeydukes." wayne, your fellow housemate warns.

"don't call me that!" you still struggle to understand how you acquired that nickname, especially since you rarely visit honeydukes these days. that habit faded after your teeth nearly succumbed to decay from all the cotton candy and chocolate frogs.

"if you keep this up, you are going to be the reason i end up in azkaban. got it?" he points a finger at your face, causing you to stumble back.

"you have a week to get at least twenty points back. if you don't..." the other one, justin, also points his finger at you, "...i'll make your remaining years at hogwarts miserable. we are the lousiest house anyway, why do you have to make it worse?"

"yeah, what do you even do to make us lose house points?"

"i bet she pisses off prefects."

"or bothers professors outside the class, the know-it-all."

"i don't care if you have to duel harry potter himself, you'll get those points back."

"and when you do, you'll get double and triple that, and make sure we win this year."

"it is only fair, since you're costing us so much."

with each accusation hurled at you, you retreat, hoping to flee the verbal attack before tears betray you and worsen the situation. a high pitched noise invades your ears, drowning out their voices. so intent on avoiding their accusing fingers, you fail to notice the brink of the top stair until your foot falters and balance is lost. you gasp, eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold stone against your skull.

"levioso!"

yet it never comes. your body is stuck in the air, right above the stairs. all the noise and fuss has left the main hall, resulting in you being too scared to open your eyes.

"accio."

but you are forced to open them, ears picking up quiet murmuring, mainly coming from girls. your eyes meet dark brown ones, stone cold with a serious expression. his black swirly wand is directed at you, levitating your body through the air until you're brought back to the top of the stairs. you finally regain control of it, hands hurriedly fixing the robe and covering yourself.

"you fools." he speaks, eyes not leaving yours.

your lip trembles, and eyes well up with tears. park seonghwa is the one person you do not wish to anger and disappoint. your admiration for him hasn't stopped growing since the day he came to this school. park seonghwa, the slytherin prince. slender frame, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump lips, dark eyes, and an immpeccable posture. he walked the castle with such grace, his cloak following him and flowing in the air behind him. whether it was magic or not, you found yourself utterly captivated, not just by his cloak, but by his very essence. he was, in a word, beautiful.

"i'm- i'm sorry-" you stutter, the sentence not yet formed in your brain. is this really how your first encounter with him will go?

"you absolute fools." he turns around, facing the two boys.

wayne and justin are now the ones stumbling back, audibly gulping. "we're sorry, seonghwa."

"all that over house points?" seonghwa scoffs in disbelief, "well, guess what? you just cost your own house fifty points."

the entire great hall gasps, not used to seeing the prefect this enraged and stern. he avoids public confrontations, curious eyes and gossipy mouths, always opting to pull the troublemakers aside to scold them. he also mostly deducts five points, ten at most. but fifty?

"show is over. go to your classes." he orders to the crowd, and they waste no time in continuing their journey to their classrooms.

overwhelmed by the unfolding situation, you find yourself unable to move. your gaze fixes on seonghwa's polished black shoes, unsure of your next action or words. your first encounter with him wasn't supposed to unfold this way. you intended to sweep him off his feet, exuding confidence and the like. embarrassing yourself and struggling to hold back tears while avoiding his gaze was never in the plan.

"hey, honeydukes. are you alright?"

"i'm fi- honeydukes?" you look at him, brows furrowed. "you know about that nickname?"

he tilts his head, chuckling. "i gave you that nickname."

"you... you gave me that nickname?! do you have any idea how freaking annoying it is..."

"okay, calm down now."

"...to be called that all day every day? even when i've stopped visiting that bloody shop..."

"listen to me."

"...it's haunting me! how dare you?!"

your protest is silenced as he steps closer, cradling your jaw in the palm of his hand to lift your face towards his. the way his dark eyes look down on you makes you feel small and fragile, only being safe because he's holding you. you swallow hard, lips pressed tightly together, not yet trusting yourself to speak.

"i gave you that nickname when i first saw you. in hogsmeade, at honeydukes. i had never seen anyone eat cotton candy so cutely, and nobody would tell me your name until recently i heard it myself. so you became honeydukes. not my fault the rest heard it from me and decided to make their own version of it."

"still..." you are stubborn, not willing to let go so easily.

"tell you what..." he reaches into his pocket, taking out something shiny. you notice it is one of those wrapped chocolate balls, and coincidentally your favorite flavour. "accept this as an apology, and stop sneaking around the library at night. you're going to cost your house more points. and us prefects our sanity."

"a candy? you're bribing me?" you scoff.

he chuckles, then puts one end of the wrapper between his pearly white teeth, while his other hand still holds your jaw. he tugs at the opposite end of the wrapper, loosening it and making the treat more accessible. letting the wrapper drop to the ground, the shiny chocolate appears all the more enticing between his slender fingers.

"open up for me."

lips slowly peeling open, you allow his slender fingers to slip past them and place the treat on your tongue.

"that's a good girl." he purrs, eyes focused on the way your tongue swirls around the chocolate and his fingers. he takes them out, and catching you by surprise, puts them inside his mouth. "well, then. you better get to class."

you nod, gulping and hugging your books to your chest. not knowing what to say to that, or what to say at all, you turn around, ready to get to your next class. but he stops you once again, playfulness evident in his voice.

"and i mean it. stop sneaking around the castle at night. not that i hate other forms of punishment, i don't think it's something you'd enjoy. besides, you need sleep, especially with the upcoming exams."

"okay."

"what? didn't quite catch that."

"yes, sir!" you yell, annoyed and already running up the stairs, almost tripping on your cloak.

"atta girl." seonghwa smiles proudly, walking in the direction of his next class.

you used to love hogsmeade. then you hated it. now, you love it again. winter has wrapped the village in a festive mood, with christmas just around the corner. streets are dripping with decorations, lights and christmas trees. enchanted instruments are singing songs on the street, people are rushing to buy presents already, and hermione and ron are bickering as always. harry walks by your side, mesmerized by the amount of lights decorating the balconies of the villagers.

"we always go get stupid butterbeers. let's try something else for once!" the girl complains, growing sick of the habit the four of you have formed when arriving at hogsmeade.

"yes, but... it's butterbeer. what else is there to try?" the ginger says, opting for the simple routine.

"merlin, i don't know! just- ugh. what do you say, honeydukes?"

ever since you told them about the incident at the great hall, they've called you nothing but that. you don't hate it anymore. if anything, it reminds you of the slytherin prefect every time you are called. and you don't hate that either.

"i think..." just as you are about to agree with hermione, your eyes notice a group of slytherins entering the three broomsticks. thus, "...ron is right. i mean, butterbeer is butterbeer."

"so bland. fine, let's go."

upon entering, you realize that you have to fight your way to the seats. it is crowded, as though all of hogwarts has chosen the same time and place for drinks. ron is stubborn, tugging hermione, who tugs you, who tugs harry. the wizard chain somehow makes it through the singing and dancing crowd, reaching the end of the tavern and big table where you usually sit. only to find the place occupied.

"hey, that's our seats!" ron complains, pointing at the slytherin boys.

"oh, no. how dare they take our unassigned assigned seats?" the girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"go on, honeydukes. say something."

you look at the boy who remained silent until now, confused. "me? why me?"

"well, it's your little boyfriend sitting there. maybe he'll listen to you."

"harry-!" before you can protest, you are nudged in front of the table, prompting all the boys at the table to halt their conversation and turn their heads to look at you. seonghwa raises an eyebrow, amused.

"what is it, half blood?" draco snickers, glancing over at seonghwa for approval. but when seonghwa doesn't acknowledge him, he settles down, hiding behind his half full glass of butterbeer.

"uh, my friends and i... we were just wondering..." you look behind at the three of them, who stand waiting politely as if you were their mother arranging a play date. "...if you could scoot over and let us have one side of the table? since it is a sharing table... and there's only four of us... and four of you. or not. i mean, if you want to. if you don't, that's fine. i'm not ordering you, i'm just... actually, we don't need it. sorry for bothering you. we'll leave now."

you turn around, cheeks and tips of ears ablaze with embarrassment. the trio looks at you with mouths open wide, wondering just what the hell happened to you.

"what the bloody hell was that?" ron says, eyebrows furrowed.

"i-"

"honeydukes?"

your body responds to his voice immediately, turning around and eyes locking into his. he smiles at you, then waves towards the seats that are now empty.

"ah, sweet!" harry cheers, and the two boys throw their belongings on the chairs and rush to the bar to order.

hermione takes a seat first, choosing a spot as far from them as possible. this leaves you with only one option: the chair next to blaise zabini, the boy who, after Seonghwa and Draco, had the most admirers. he doesn't acknowledge you, nor does anyone else, until you start gossiping with hermione and she abruptly stops mid-sentence.

"he's looking at you."

"what? who is?" your head starts to turn itself before thinking, but hermione is quick to slap your arm. "ow!"

"don't look! that prefect, seonghwa. he's looking at you so intensely. it's scary."

"like, scary scary or hot kinda scary?"

"well, i-" she stutters, not yet used to being this open with anyone yet. "the latter."

the boys arrive, ron holding the drinks and harry holding bowls of snacks. they almost throw them on the table, and ron doesn't even wait to sit before taking a big sip of his drink. harry digs into his loaded chips, not intending on offering anyone a bite or two.

the conversation at the other end of the table ceases, causing ron to set his glass down and harry to stop trying to fit the entire bowl into his cheeks. you look at both ends, the situation looking funny, especially with hermione looking embarrassed next to you. the slytherin boys exude sophistication, taking delicate sips of their drinks, sharing a bowl of spicy chili treats, conversing in hushed tones, and maintaining an overall neat and respectful demeanor. the gryffindor boys are a complete contrast; ron with his butterbeer moustache, harry with sauce smeared on his cheek, both flushed and almost reeking of sweat already.

"wufnt sum?" harry says with his mouth full, nudging his half empty bowl towards the other group.

they all look at the prefect, as if he decides whether they can have some or not. "no, thank you, potter. you seem to be enjoying it too much for me to take it away from you. i'd feel bad."

 the groups snickers, and something twitches inside of you. seeing the prefect's cocky and arrogant smile, your interest in him falters. he's no longer looking at you, not even sparing you glances. entertaining his group and bullying the gryffindor boys seemed to be way more interesting. and you've had enough of it.

"so... nice moustache weasley."

"right, we get it." you almost yell, causing them to stop and turn their heads at you. "you're all so smart, and perfect, and purebloods, and we are just laughing stock. i don't need to listen to this, and neither do they."

"oh, feisty." draco comments, earning a glare from seonghwa.

"right, honeydukes. i apologize for my behaviour." the dark haired slytherin smiles at you, but your face stays the same.

"it's not me you should be apologizing to."

"are you dense? how dare you talk to him like that?" the young boy doesn't give up, wanting to fight you no matter what.

"malfoy, sit back." seonghwa says, putting a hand on draco's chest. "potter, weasley. i apologize for my comments."

"'s alright."

"yeah, no worries." they mumble, gazes locked on the table.

awkward silence swallows your corner of the tavern, with the people only staring at the middle of the table and only breathing. seonghwa then slides the untouched bowl of chili treats in the middle, causing the group to look at him.

"how about a game? you know, that muggle one, never have i ever? for each thing that you did, you need to eat a handful of these. you in, gryffindor?"

eager to prove themselves, they straighten their clothes and backs, and focus. hermione sits back, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest. ron nudges her with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes and joins in.

"hufflepuff?" the dark eyed boy tilts his head.

"sure, whatever."

"alright, then. game on."

it starts with innocent questions, such as cheating on exams and gossips. then, it progressively gets more serious and more...

"never have i ever made out with someone in the astronomy tower?"

sexual.

you are not shocked to see that blaise and seonghwa are taking a handful of the spicy treats, but your jaw drops when ron and hermione do the same, exchanging a single glance before blushing and shoving the handful in their mouths. harry shares his surprise with you, jaw equally hanging.

"well, well. little miss granger." seonghwa teases. "good job, ron boy."

"never have i ever... done more than dry humping in an empty owlery?" harry surprises the table with his question.

"what?! you've done that?!" hermione is almost in his face, surprised how she didn't know this about her best friend.

"i might've..." the chosen one smiles, wasting no time in burning his tongue with the treats once again.

your side of the table seems to retreat after that question, the slytherin boys asking about things you didn't ever think of. things that would have dubmbledore kick you out of the school, through the very same astronomy tower everyone seems to mention. the game eventually grows into a conversation, discussing who their favorite partner was, what their most risky situation was, and who they have an eye on recently.

"what about you, honeydukes?" blaise asks, using seonghwa's nickname for you. it just doesn't hit the same.

"what about me?"

"nothing to share? no risky business, no partners, no bad sexual experiences? i mean, have you had any experience at all?"

"of course i have. i'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. i've had more bad ones than good ones. having me jerk someone off under the desk while learning about amortentia wasn't exactly my cup of tea."

"oh, you poor thing." draco coos, mockingly.

they all eventually let go, and when you realize that seonghwa hasn't made a comment about you in a while, you look at him. he is already observing you, his expression unreadable. his eyes roam your face, then your hair, and finally your clothes. you feel small under his intense gaze, and you find yourself squirming on the wooden chair. when his eyes catch yours, he blinks, then looks away.

after a morning of intense studying, practicing flying, and rushing to hogsmeade for potions supplies for the exam tomorrow, you end up sleeping the entire afternoon. when you wake up, it is dark. you hate wasting days, especially because winter ones are so short. you haven't done anything fun for yourself these few weeks, only studying and avoiding the slytherin prefect.

he might've noticed, or perhaps not. you've noticed a few glances here and there, but the hogsmeade encounter made your feelings for him fade. it wasn't a major crush after all, just simple admiration. maybe liking. regardless, he doesn't get in your way. meaning, it might be safe to have one of those late night adventures through the castle. your disillusionment charm has improved, and you'll finally put it to good use.

wearing nothing but your yellow sleeping attire, you slip out of the dormitory and head to the library. the ghosts don't bother you, even if you didn't cast the charm yet. they must've found another victim, especially peeves. that bastard.

no prefect in sight either, which makes you wonder if you're really being that subtle and successful in your late night escapade. perhaps they're toying with you, letting you reach the doors of the library just to stop you and punish you.

yet, it doesn't happen. not when you reach the door, not when you slip past them, and not when you reach the restricted section.

"lumos." you chant, then put the handle of the wand between your teeth so you can see the shelves better.

how sad, you think, sneaking out at night only to come to a library.

mid book browsing, you hear footsteps. hurriedly twirling your wand around yourself, you cast the charm, and crouch.

"nox," you whisper, the wand no longer emitting light from its tip.

the footsteps get closer, with faint whistling being heard. whoever it is, they're either completely oblivious, or they're just keeping you at the edge before revealing themselves.

"little pig, little pig..." the voice sings, and you gasp.

the slytherin prince himself roams the library's forbidden section, each footstep sounding closer to you. you get on your hands and knees, crawling among the shelves in search for a way out. but from this perspective, everything looks different. after all, this isn't your usual view.

"let," step, "me," step, "in."

a hand grabs your hair from behind, pulling your head back just enough to make you yelp. the disillusionment charm wears off, and you groan, defeated.

"well, well. if it isn't the innocent little hufflepuff. no wonder i've been craving sweet since i entered the library."

"will you let go of me?"

"oh, sure thing." he softens his grip, giving you just a taste of freedom before yanking your head again, "what's the magic word? you know, that muggle one?"

"please, please!" you yelp, hands wrapping around his wrist in hopes of convincing him to let go.

he does, then steps back to give you space so you can get up. fixing your sleepwear, you fail to see his amused grin as he stares at you. when you finally look up at him, he has his usual prefect serious face on.

"now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"sorry, it won't happen again." you should tattoo that on yourself next time you're in muggle world, it comes like a good morning to you. "i'll see myself out."

"oh, no, no." the man stops you, grabbing your elbow. "you don't get away with a sorry. not anymore. remember what i said last time?"

"uh... something about different forms of punishment?" you remember.

"that's right. good girl." his voice seems to drop a few octaves, causing you to subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. "now, how many?"

"what?"

"how many?"

"how many what?"

"spanks, sweetheart."

"you're-" you choke on your spit, "you're going to spank me?"

"oh, would you rather lose points? again?" he tilts his head, fake worry painted on his features.

"well, no, but-"

"deducting points doesn't seem to work on you anyways. i'll have to try a different approach. usually works." he steps towards you, making you step back.

"usually? you uh... you spank other people?" you dare ask.

"why?" he continues his slow steps.

"just asking."

"jealous?"

"why would i be?"

"i don't know." he shrugs, then looks around checking for intruders. "a little bird told me you have a crush on me."

your back hits the shelves, and you gasp. he stops in front of you, still maintaining a small distance. you stutter, not knowing what to say. do you have a crush on him?

"i certainly don't."

"oh." he furrows his eyebrows, "you sure?"

"yes." your voice comes out raspy, and you clear your throat. "yes, absolutely."

"honeydukes?"

"yes?"

"are you trying to convince yourself, or me?"

"i don't have a crush on you, seonghwa." you try to sound as convincing as possible.

"good. then, this interaction won't have any side effects besides teaching you a lesson. now, how many?"

you want to say a small number, like two or three. but if it happens to feel good, you won't have the guts to ask for more. oh how foolish, how can spanking be good?

"tick-tock, hufflepuff. if you don't decide, i will for you. and trust me, you do not want that."

he isn't touching you, hell, he isn't even looking at you. yet he has power over you like nobody ever had before, making you stand still against the bookshelves and wait for his instructions.

"ten," you simply say.

"ten? not one, two?" seonghwa is surprised with your answer, figuring you'd choose a smaller number.

"i didn't think you'd accept one or two. or would you?"

"smart girl. no, i wouldn't. now, what was your favorite subject again? charms, herbology?"

"dark arts," you reply, catching him off guard once again. of course he didn't see it coming. you're sneaking out to go to a library, you're a hufflepuff for merlin's sake, and you stand here in front of him, looking up at him with those wide innocent eyes of yours. who would guess dark arts?

"well, then," he swirls his black wand around both of you, turning you invisible once again, "lead the way, honeydukes."

and you do, having him follow you all the way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. you'd be lying if you said nervous sweat hasn't washed you over three times by the time you reach it. when the door closes, it's like time stops. this is it.

"won't umbridge hear? what if she's still in her office?" you whisper.

"muffliato." he simply casts, sparks flying between the desks, up the staircase at the end of the classroom, and through the doors of umbridge's office. "go on."

you keep walking, all the way to her desk. seonghwa plunges on the comfy professor's chair, then motioned for you to step closer. you barely step close to him, and he pushes you over his lap, causing you to squeak unintentionally. you hold onto his thigh, the position not the most comfortable one.

"count." the slytherin prefect demands.

his big hand lands on your bottom, making you jolt. "one."

his other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you still so you stop squirming. only three more spanks later, you're already shuffling uncomfortably.

"two, three, four," you say, voice slowly cracking.

"but i'm barely halfway there yet, my hufflepuff princess. don't break on me just yet." he coos, voice soft and comforting, a great contrast to his actions.

you sniff, hand hurriedly wiping a tear that threatened to escape. seonghwa doesn't halt, even if he saw that. instead, he spanks you harder and harder, sparing no inch of your skin of the burning sensation.

"five, six, seven." you shudder, bracing yourself for more. only three more.

"almost there, sweetheart. you're doing so good for me." his other hand caresses your hair, removing it from your face and letting it fall aside. seeing you all teared up and flushed, something new sparks inside of him. "so pretty."

he can't help himself, his hand abusing your sore bottom, exceeding the amount that you both agreed on. you keep counting, not asking him to stop. he lands a final one, deciding it is enough once you let out the first cry.

"t-twenty," you sob, hiding your face in his black slacks.

when his hand touches your bottom again, you expect it to be another hit. instead, his hand caresses it, helping to soothe the pain. it lasts mere seconds, before you feel him raise the top of your pajama, then pull on the bottom. he exposes your red bottom to the cool classroom air, and you can't help but whine at the loss of contact.

"you did so good, my love." seonghwa coos, fingers running through your hair as he waits for you to collect yourself.

once you do, you realize that the burning sensation isn't only on your butt cheeks. you also feel it between your legs, briefs soaked with arousal.

"did you learn the lesson?" his hand finds its spot under your chin, raising your head so he can look at you properly.

"yes." you say, failing to maintain eye-contact with him. maybe it's the guilt, or maybe simply the way he looks at you. either way, you opt to stare at his perfectly ironed and buttoned up prefect attire.

"want me to make it feel better?"

you shrug, not quite sure what you wanted anyway. his hand slips from under your chin to your neck, catching you off guard, his fingers squeezing the sides of it. he presses lightly into your skin, the other hand adjusting your bottom so that it is higher up and your core easily accessible. a moan escapes your lips, feeling his digits find your clit so easily.

"oh, you poor thing. you're absolutely soaked. is that why you're crying? not from the pain, but from lack of attention?"

when you don't reply, he only chuckles, pressing into your neck more.

"i'll take good care of you, honeydukes."

he moves your briefs aside, digits circling your clit softly, before slipping into your aching hole. you bite into the fabric of his pants, but he stops you, instead offering his finger to bite on. he still holds onto your neck with his thumb and the rest of the fingers, his index finger popped into your mouth to muffle any noise you have to offer him.

hearing your own hole squelch as his fingers pump in and out of you makes a new rush of arousal wash over your folds. his fingers are long, very long. he curves them, spreads them, then removes them from your hole, only to spread your slick all over your clit and abuse it.

you're a drooling mess on his lap, eyes turning back at the pure pleasure he is gracing you with. your hips hopelessly push back, looking for anything to fill you up. he notices, removing his hand from your core, before standing you up and pushing you to sit on the desk. with a single motion, he shreds your briefs to bits, stuffing them into his pocket and attaching his mouth to your aching core.

you fall back on the desk, head hanging from it and overlooking the empty classroom. your brain creates various images for you as seonghwa's hot tongue swipes across your folds, imagining the classroom full of students as seonghwa feasts on you in front of them. were you weird for that?

"not at all, princess."

"stop reading my mind, prefect." you tug on his hair, a form of punishment for intruding your thoughts.

"can't help it, not when you're dripping all over my face."

his fingers find their way into your clenching hole again, curling upwards and finding a spot nobody ever had before. a moan escapes you, echoing through the classroom, and your other hand pushes seonghwa's head further into your cunt.

he chuckles against you, his own hands holding your thighs so you don't suffocate him. you feel yourself inching closer, hips desperately grinding on his mouth and nose, eager to feel a proper orgasm. he pulls away once again, making you whine and groan.

"my, i've spoiled you." he raises an eyebrow, amused at the glares you're sending him. he stands up, working on his zipper. he doesn't take his pants off, deciding to keep his prefect uniform on. it only makes the situation hotter, your brain finally realizing just what you're doing.

you're messing with a prefect, in the middle of the night, in a classroom, right under a professor's nose.

"kiss me." you ask, voice small. red paints your cheeks; you wanted to sound more confident than that.

"you want to taste yourself on my tongue, princess?"

"yes, please."

"since you asked so nicely."

he helps you stand again, hands firm on your waist, and lips finally attached to yours. your arms wrap around his neck, hungrily bringing his body closer to yours. you indeed taste yourself on his tongue, seonghwa not wasting a second in pushing through your soft lips in search for your hot muscle. the sound of kissing echoes in the classroom, the setting hotter than your wildest dreams. seonghwa is a dreamy kisser, making you feel wanted, hot and appreciated at the same time. his lips never leave yours, not even when your fingers tangle in his hair and pull at it with ecstasy. he only moans softly into your mouth, giving you a wave of confidence.

your hand slides down his chest, to the button of his pants, and finally to the zipper. you reach into it, pulling his hard cock out, before giving it a few slow pumps. he sighs into your lips, pulling away for a few moments. his forehead rests against yours, his body falling in control of your one hand. your thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the slick and spreading it over him. his hips rock with your hand, whines and moans deliciously filling your ears. it feels powerful to have him tremble in your hands, desperate and yearning for your touch and attention. this must be what he feels on a daily basis. and it must feel fucking amazing.

"you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases, and you tease back by squeezing his cock. he gasps, but chuckles regardless. "you're just a little brat, waiting to be stuffed like a bad girl. i know it."

with a swift motion, seonghwa turns you around, your still clothed tits pressing against the hard wooden desk and head pushed on the side. he slides into you without warning or teasing, so easily and perfectly. he wastes no time in holding your hips still, smashing his own into you and burying his cock deep in your hole. your walls swallow each inch he offers you, having both of you moan and groan at the pleasure.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes planted on the place where the two of you connect. "fuck, honeydukes- you're going to be the death of me."

"do you- ah!" he snaps his hips into yours once again, each thrust more forceful than the other, "do you do this with others sneaking out at night?"

"i knew you were jealous. so you do have a little crush on me?" he chuckles breathlessly.

"maybe. and maybe." you groan, hands gripping the edges of the desk.

"no, baby. i don't. you're the only one whose cunt i'm going to fill up, again and again. until you've learned your lesson properly."

it is your turn to chuckle now. "if this is your form of punishment, i might start sneaking around while you're on duty more often."

"oh, my hufflepuff princess. if you want me, you can have me any time you want. all day, every day. all you have to do is ask."

the conversation stops, as do his hips, when the doors on top of the stairs open.

"who's there?"

you try looking back at seonghwa, eyes full of fear. his cock twitches in your hole, the riskiness of the situation arousing to him.

"hush, love." he whispers, hand pushing your head down against the cold wood again.

his hips start moving gently, slowly stretching your hole again. you're in shock, not believing that he'd actually continue as the professor walks down the stairs in her own sleeping attire. her eyes skim over the room, trying to find anything unusual. but the silencing spell seems to be working, just like the disillusionment one, making umbridge unaware of your presence. a very... lewd presence.

"merlin, i can't take it anymore. i'm sorry, love."

not giving you a chance to ask why he's apologizing, you soon learn as his hand pulls your hair back and his other one grips your bruised bottom. his hips snap into yours with speed and accuracy, hitting the right spots and bringing you closer to release.

"seonghwa-" you moan.

"yes, love?"

"i want-" you moan again, then beg, "i want to see you, touch you."

he pulls away, helping your limp body in a different position. the professor is ignored, even when she comes dangerously close to the desk. it sends a new wave of arousal to your core, just in time for seonghwa to slide into you again.

"look at that," he sighs, looking at your belly.

you follow his gaze, seeing the outline of his cock on it. your hands bring his head closer so you can kiss him, with equal hunger as before. he continues pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm.

"right, there better not be anyone. i'm not in the mood for any tricks!" umbridge threatens, causing both of you to chuckle into each others mouths.

"this is kind of hot," you admit.

"as much as it is, i want her to go away as soon as possible. i just can't cum when i see her face."

you laugh, glancing at the professor one more time. as if she heard, she listens, angrily stomping upstairs and slamming the door shut.

"uh, speaking of temperatures, i know this is crazy, but i am feeling a bit chilly." you admit, the winter air entering the classroom and hitting your naked skin. after all, you were only in your thin sleepwear, having heavy covers on your bed that kept you warm. seonghwa wastes no time in taking off his prefect cloak, helping you put it on and planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you look beautiful in green, my pretty hufflepuff."

blush paints your cheeks, his scent enveloping you and sending a fresh batch of butterflies to your stomach. you never noticed it before, but he smells of forest moss and after rain stone, with a hint of potions ingredients. it is intoxicating, entering your organism and threatening to never leave.

"oh, merlin," seonghwa throws his head back, lost in pure pleasure as your hole swallows him, the outline of his cock on your belly adding to it all and helping him get closer to his goal. "fuck- fuck-"

he's absolutely dashing, a thin layer of sweat shining on his face and making his dark locks stick to his forehead. his lips are plump from you biting and sucking on them, slightly parted and letting out little gasps and moans. he unbuttons the first few buttons of his uniform, not having a problem with the cold. you're a moaning mess, just like him, completely letting go of every thought you had until now, simply giving yourself to him and admiring him.

you feel full of him, and just when you thought you couldn't feel fuller, seonghwa hisses, spilling his load in you and creating more squelching sounds as he rides out his orgasm, pushing in and out of you sloppily.

it doesn't take long for you to reach your own, the knot in your stomach exploding as his tip slams mercilessly into your soft spot, making you grip his arms, shoulders, hair, anything you could reach. he works you through your high, not missing a single face or sound you make.

you're exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. the recovery lasts longer than usual, seonghwa having wrecked you inside out. his hands gently remove your hair from your face so he can take a good look at you.

"you're good, love. breathe." he coos, caressing your cheek and blowing into your face to cool you off.

"thank you," you blurt out.

"what for?" the slytherin prefect laughs at your innocence.

"i don't know. this, i guess. i've never enjoyed sex, always saw it as a chore. and i never felt desired, just objectified."

"well," the dark haired slytherin pecks your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, "you don't have to worry about that anymore. i've never desired anyone the way i desire you, and i think i just proved it to you how much. you don't have to fear those things with me anymore."

"park seonghwa, are you subtly asking me to be your girlfriend?" you shyly ask, knowing that you might be wrong and embarrass yourself in front of him. to your relief, he pecks your lips once again.

"perhaps. only if you want to. if not, then i'm not asking."

"perhaps i want to."

"perhaps that makes me happy."

"you're crazy." you laugh, and he joins.

seonghwa does one more thing no other partner has ever done for you; he helps you get cleaned, then dressed, and walks you to the doors of your common room.

"if you do decide to sneak off again, please do let me know. wouldn't want other prefects to find you and steal your heart."

you nod, and with a longer kiss, finally part ways with him. he waits until you finish your usual rhythmic tapping on the barrels, until the doors open, and finally, until you disappear into your common room and back to the dormitory.

you notice the sun already rising, and hurry to jump back in bed.

"excuse me? is that a slytherin cloak on you?"

you freeze in your tracks, the cloak ready to slide off you and hide under your pillow. the girl on the bed to your left doesn't give up, now sitting up and staring at you wide eyed.

"and a prefect one too?!" the voice on the right joins, waking up the rest of the room and bringing attention to you.

fuck.

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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you. 

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

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

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile. 

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that. 

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

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

Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely. 

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now. 

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns." 

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now. 

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day. 

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

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

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

I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[little-diable]

A dare to kiss - Tyler Owens (smut)

I'll keep on riding the Tyler train till my ideas run out. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been best friends for years. But after another storm season, she finally snaps and realises she can't be around him any longer, not when her feelings for him won't let go of her. But perhaps the feelings aren't unrequited as she fears.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), friends to lovers, idiots in love, some angst, but a very happy ending

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“How old are you? Stop it, Boone!” (Y/n)’s voice dripped with annoyance, eyes flickering from her friends and colleagues down to her drink. It had been their last day of chasing, saying goodbye to another season that had been filled with exciting but also horrible moments they all haven’t quite processed just yet.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a kiss!” Boone excitedly clapped his hands while he let his gaze wander from (y/n) to Tyler, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. They no longer knew who had started their annual game of truth and dare, passing a few hours where they got to spill secrets, fears, and do harmless dares to end the night with stomachs that hurt from laughing too much.

At least it had always been like that until this very dare, something that clearly went too far for her aching heart. Her feelings for Tyler were no secret, they all knew of the feelings she harboured for her best friend – all but Tyler, who obliviously chased other women while (y/n) was forced to suffer around him. 

“Give her another dare, Boone.” Tyler’s voice drew all eyes towards him, ripping their hope of finally being able to push the two of them together into shreds. They were too focused on Tyler to pick up on the hurt crossing her features. It was her own fault, she should have just kissed him, should have crossed the distance between them while the chance had been right there for her to grasp. A chance that had passed the second Tyler had spoken up.

“You know what, I’m tired anyway, I’ll head back to the motel.” She rose to her trembling feet, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket to hide the fists she had balled them into from their confused eyes. She didn’t wait for them to speak up, turned from them with an aching heart and allowed the darkness to swallow her while almost jogging back to her room. 

Even though (y/n) hated parting from the group, not wanting to leave them that early on their last evening together, she needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while. Staying this close to Tyler for the past weeks had been more exhausting than she had thought it would be, unable to endure his closeness any longer. She should look forward to returning home, to quiet hours where she won’t have to worry about hiding the feelings she hadn’t been able to let go of for the past years. 

The door to her room fell shut behind her, letting the silence wrap itself around (y/n) while she wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Curses rumbled through her, she felt as if she was drowning, unable to breathe while the room closed in on her. Her body started moving without listening to her mind's command. She threw all her stuff into her bag, hastily reaching for her things as her vision grew more blurry. 

She needed to get away, needed to make it home, she couldn’t stand being around him for another minute. She left the room with her heart in her throat, forced to a sudden halt before she could collide with Dexter. His hands shot out to catch her should she fall, drawing her tear stained features up towards him. 

“Oh, (y/n). What’s going on?” She let her head fall against his chest, searching the closeness of the man who had always treated her like his daughter, the first one she had told her feelings for Tyler to. A sob wrecked through her, forcing him to tighten his hold on her to keep (y/n) close. 

“I need to leave, I can’t do this any longer, Dexter. Here, this is my room key.” She pushed the key into his hand, trusting him to take care of checking her out in the morning. His hand ran up and down her spine in a comforting manner, set on soothing the pain she felt all too clearly. Another sob left (y/n) before she stepped out of the embrace. “Tell the others I’m sorry and that I’ll reach out soon.”

(Y/n) squeezed his hand one last time, trying to put on a soft smile for the man who stared down at her with pity swimming in his pupils. She felt his eyes on her as she jogged towards her truck, set on driving through the night to make it home before the sun would paint the horizon in bleeding colours.

……

“Hey, it’s me again. It’s been a while, and I really need to see you, (y/n). We need to talk, call me back, please.” 

She woke to new voice messages every single day since leaving a few weeks ago. At first Tyler had voiced out his disappointment and confusion, not understanding why she had left him just like that. And then the sadness had entered the picture, begging (y/n) to call him back because he missed her and was sorry for whatever he had done to her. And now his voice no longer carry any emotions, monotonous and unfamiliar without any nicknames he’d normally use. 

(Y/n) knew it was time for her to finally reach out to him, to bury her own sadness and her embarrassment and to call her best friend, if she could still call him that. Her hands shook as she clicked onto his contact, listening to it ring five times before he answered with a whisper of her name. 

“Hi,” no further word managed to leave her. She listened to him exhale, shuffle around before speaking up.

“Are you at home today? I’d come round to see you.” A part of her screamed at her to say no, knowing that she shouldn't meet him at home, the one place where she had managed to focus on her feelings, giving her space to think about them properly. But the stronger part knew it would be less awkward to see him here than somewhere else where they could easily run into fans. 

“I am.” His hum shot shudders down her spine, forcing her to fist the blanket she had tossed over her cold legs. 

“I’ll be over around three, see you then.” He ended the call before another word could leave her. Her stomach was churning, not used to his cold voice and how he spoke to her as if she was a business contact or a stranger almost. 

(Y/n) let her phone drop into her lap while she sank further into her couch. What would she even tell Tyler? She wasn’t ready for his rejection, wasn’t ready to mess up what was still remaining of their friendship. Even though she couldn’t stand being close to him for longer than a few hours, (y/n) also knew that life without Tyler by her side wasn’t worth living. 

……

“There you go.” She pushed the coffee towards Tyler who was leaning against the kitchen island, right across from her. His eyes followed her every move, ever since a rather awkward hug and exchanged pleasantries that felt as if they didn’t know one another at all. He shot her a grateful smile before taking a sip, not letting his gaze leave her nervous features once. “How are you?”

“Cut the bullshit, (y/n). Wanna tell me why my best friend ran from me and then decided to ghost me for the past weeks?” Her heart sank, letting her guilt settle deep inside her stomach. Her eyes found interest in studying her trembling hands, not daring to get lost in Tyler’s angry expression. 

“I’m sorry, I was just so exhausted with it all. I needed some time away.” A humourless laugh clawed through Tyler, a sound that finally forced her eyes back towards him. 

“You��ve never been good at lying. What is this really about, huh? Why did the others all seem to understand what’s going on, but you couldn’t tell me?” His voice carried his hurt, dripping with sadness and anger she also felt flushing through her system. 

“It's nothing you need to worry-“ the sound of his palm coming down on her kitchen island interrupted her, forcing her pupils to widen as he shook his head at her. It felt as if she was looking at a stranger, not once had she seen Tyler this hurt and angry, never directed at her at least.

“Just be honest, (y/n)! I’m supposed to be your best friend, or is this what this all is about? Do you no longer want to be-“ now it was on her to interrupt him.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” And then they were engulfed by nothing but silence. The seconds faded by, turning into almost a full minute of Tyler just staring at her with an unreadable expression. It seemed as if he was combing through his every moment with her, reliving all the past years to figure out how he could have missed this. His silence forced her lips to part again, knowing that she needed to say some more. 

“I tried to let go of it, I really did. But being around you made it impossible for me. I am sorry, I just needed some time alone. And then that dare, I wanted to kiss you so badly, but it would have been my end, and I couldn’t risk losing that last shred of sanity I had in me.” Her whispers lured Tyler closer, letting her watch him round the kitchen island to come to a halt in front of her. 

“Look at me, darling.” Her heart skipped a beat at the use of the nickname, taking some fear from her trembling body. Slowly she raised her gaze, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he cupped her cheeks with his big hands. “I’m sorry it took me this long to see it, but I was quite occupied with hiding my own feelings from you.”

Tyler’s words left her frozen, staring at him with confusion laced in her gaze. Her mind was racing, letting his words sink in to understand what he had just told her. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, “Will you let me kiss you? No dare this time.” 

She shifted her weight onto her toes, letting her lips collide with his. Tyler instantly replied to the touch, kissing (y/n) breathless while his hands moved down her sides. She deepened the kiss with a soft moan clawing through her, allowing his tongue to meet hers. Both their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests as if they had just returned from another chase, losing themselves in the adrenaline that still buzzed through them. 

Tyler parted from her for a moment, hands wandering down her thighs to pick her up and place her down on the kitchen island. For the first time since she had started being with partners, she truly felt weightless, trusting Tyler fully with whatever he had in mind. Slowly, he connected their lips again, kissing her to stop her racing thoughts from overthinking what was about to happen.

“Do you want this? Do you want to be touched by me?” His voice was raspy, deeper than it had been before - details that made her walls flutter in excitement. 

“Please, touch me, Tyler.” The hum he let go of was drowned out by her gasp as he pushed her back down on the kitchen island, feeling his wandering hands find their way to her pair of shorts. He pulled the fabric down her legs, panties following moments later to expose her lower body to his piercing eyes.

“What a beautiful sight, it was worth waiting for all these years.” Heat rose up her neck, spurred on by his praises. Carefully he touched her, letting his fingers brush through her slit, spreading her arousal on her skin. Goosebumps littered her body as if she was trapped in a cold room, unable to stop shaking. And yet her body was burning up, set ablaze by his touch. 

“I need to taste you, can I, baby?” Nothing but a moaned “yes” left (y/n). His tongue felt rough against her pulsing bundle, letting the sensation zap through her aching body like lighting. She tried to find something to hold on to, and yet her fingers could only wander to his head to tug on his almost golden roots. 

“Jesus fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” (Y/n)’s words left Tyler chuckling against her heat. The sound vibrated on her skin, pushing her even closer towards the edge.

“Seems like I ain’t doing my job well enough if you can still speak.” He was urging himself to move his tongue quicker while pushing two fingers into her heat. Her walls clenched around his fingers, drawing him even closer in while her orgasm crept closer and closer. A moan clawed through (y/n), letting it reverberate through the air as Tyler sucked on her pulsing bundle. 

“Atta girl, I got you, pretty.” He comforted her, cozied her along to finally push her over the edge. His name left her parted lips like a prayer, unable to think of any other thing to say as she felt the blinding sensation wander up her limbs. (Y/n) came without a warning, back arched off the cold kitchen island top. 

Tyler kept lapping at her folds to guide her through her high before he pressed one last kiss to her inner thigh. He moved up her body, hands stroking their way up her sides until he cupped her warm cheeks to pull her in for a kiss. 

“I love you, darling, and I promise to make up for all the time we’ve lost.” 

[the-boy-meets-evil]

as wild and untamable as the sea | l.c

pairing: greek god!chan x reincarnated sea nymph!f!reader genre: angst, romance, smut | reincarnation, fantasy, greek gods!au rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~15.8k warnings: mentions of past unhealthy relationships, (possibly inaccurate) greek mythology, lots of POV switches (but i don't think it's confusing) mentions of eating, explicit smut, multiple sex positions, unprotected sex (just don't), slight edging, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), chan is strong and very in control, i think that's all but let me know if it's not

summary: Chan remembers everything. Every little thing that's happened to him since his days as one of the twelve Olympians. Poseidon to be exact. Even though he tries not to think about it now that he's living in modern times running a sad little aquarium, some memories are more vivid than others. Then, you stumble into his life and he can't explain the draw. You can't seem to figure out how this man is keeping an aquarium like this running when it seems like it's not that busy. Something about him really seems to put you off, despite the fact that he seems drawn to you. None of it makes any sense...until it does.

a/n: this is for the 13 Gods of Olympus collab that @beomcoups & @wooahaeproductions have been tirelessly working on. thank you so much for hosting this! i know this isn't the end for this couple, but i really needed to get this out into the world. if you want to know what happens next with them, let me know.

a/n 2: this is semi-unedited and i'm just throwing it out into the world but i'll come back. if you see anything glaring, no you didn't!

tag list: @illiadiaz, @syluslittlecrows, @yini-yang, @fancypeacepersona, @bitchlessdino, @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tusswrites, @cookiearmy

Another day, another dollar. 

Wasn’t that what the humans said about another day spent working at some mindless job? Despite all the years he’s spent blending into their world, Chan still doesn’t really understand the humans. Doesn’t really understand why they put up with so many things they seemingly hate. Doesn’t really understand why they waste their short lives on something that makes them miserable. But, in fairness to the humans, Chan has also never had to worry about the trivial things that come along with working like money, possessions, or a home. When you’re one of the original gods of Olympus and life is seemingly infinite, money isn’t really an issue. 

That’s who Chan was in another lifetime: Poseidon. The God of the Sea, among other things. At least, until Olympus fell. A painful thought that he usually tries to push from his mind.

In the early days after Olympus fell, Chan still went through life acknowledging who he was. He leveraged his powers for favors or for payment. He used his control of the water and everything in it to get him what he needed. But, the years went by and the Olympians became the stuff of myth. Of stories. The kind of characters that you read about in books. Only the most eccentric members of society continue to worship the Olympians as if they’re real. Which they are, Chan reminds himself. Or, they were. As the faith faded, so did the Olympians’ belief in restoring themselves to full power. One by one, they gave up the task of finding a way back until it was only Chan and Zeus left. Two of the brightest minds of Olympus. Even they had to admit their own defeat. 

Which leads to the present day. Chan has taken on a new persona, for the…well, he’s lost track of what number this one is. He’s just thankful for his ability to shapeshift into someone new whenever he needs to. Takes a new name every time, too. At first, he tried to keep in touch with his siblings and the other Olympians. That, too, fades over time. It’s been at least a century since he’s spoken to any of them. Though, occasionally, he’ll catch wind of something through the chattering of local sea creatures. Something that says at least some of them are still out there.

Chan sighs. There’s really no reason for him to be wandering down memory lane in this way. He thinks, not for the first time, that maybe he needs to pick a different cover job. One that will keep his mind a little more occupied. The reality is, though, he’s tried nearly everything he could think of over the centuries. Changing professions is a frequent occurrence when he doesn’t want to let his body show too many signs of age. Not that he minds, it’s just that people start to ask too many questions about how he’s handling things someone “his age” shouldn’t be able to handle. In the end, working with sea life has always been the best. And this set up, where he’s running a smaller aquarium off of some long forgotten boardwalk in an area that doesn’t get much traffic, is also great. It isn’t even that Chan doesn’t like being around people. He finds humans entertaining in most senses. It’s just that nothing in this life is permanent for him. He’s not going to fall in love and grow old with someone. Best to just keep things at arm’s length. 

Most days are more or less the same and Chan works the majority of them. On the rare days off, he’s not far away since his little house is within walking distance of both the aquarium, the boardwalk it’s on, and the water. He trusts the limited staff that he has because he pays them well. Better than any other similar business, but he values loyalty. And they don’t seem to question how he’s able to make things work. That is largely due to the anonymous donors that make monthly contributions to the aquarium. Really, it’s just Chan funneling money that he’s earned over his many years on Earth so that he can keep a business afloat. Nobody seems to have anything to say. Beyond the staff not asking questions, they are all very good at their jobs. It makes life easier for Chan that way because he doesn’t have to micromanage them. Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do and will only ask questions if they hit an actual block. No, the aquarium runs very smoothly. It just doesn’t get a lot of business.

Since every day kind of blends together, Chan almost never realizes as days or weeks or even months pass by. He’s in a sort of autopilot where he also knows what he has to do and just does it without question. It’s just rinse and repeat day in and day out. 

Until it’s not. Until the first day that he notices you in his small, out of the way little aquarium. Until the day that everything starts to change.

You’re not really sure what pulls you in for the first time. You’ve probably passed this sad little aquarium dozens of times without giving it a second thought. Then, one day, you decide that you might as well go in. The cost of admission is incredibly reasonable, but you think that’s probably why you haven’t gone sooner. It might seem counterintuitive. You just wonder how well the animals can be taken care of with such a low cost of admission.  You’re not sure if you can handle seeing animals mistreated. Still, there’s no going back now. Even with the outside seemingly a little poorly cared for, you still find your feet pulling you forward. 

You’ve never been more wrong about anything in your life. 

The dingy outside gives way to a vibrant inside that’s teeming with love and light. The art on the walls is carefully curated to match the different areas of the aquarium. There are workers with genuine smiles going about their days. Even the animals seem to be happy. It’s also deceptively large on the inside. It makes you wonder why it looks so run down from the outside. Surely, someone that cares this much about the animals could care a little more for the outside as well. Maybe that’s the point. Why waste money on an outside nobody really cares about when it can go to the best care possible?

Almost immediately, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. Just this morning, you were ready to explode from all the stress in your life. Now, stress feels like the furthest thing from your mind. In fact, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. Strange. This is the first time you remember a single place erasing any sort of worry. Just as you’re about to consider that the place holds some kind of magic, you realize that not everyone seems to be as at ease. A mother scolds her child and an elderly couple bicker. It breaks a little bit of the illusion, though you still feel calm. 

Subconsciously, your feet carry you to the area with the sea otters. They have always been some of your favorites, even if they’re not the typical sea resident that people think about. As you watch on, two chase each other around the enclosure. They seem like they must be young with the way they can’t seem to stop playing. It’s incredibly endearing to watch. Another, slightly larger, otter emerges from around a bend and the original two quickly dip under the water to shoot off. It almost seems like a mother scolding her children, but maybe you’re creating too many stories within your own mind. Your imagination, especially around sea life, can be a bit active.

A few minutes later, a worker comes out and starts feeding all the otters. They’re quick to come and get the food, showing just how many there are. You weren’t expecting to see such a large population in this off-the-beaten-path aquarium. The man feeding them looks young, but that’s true of nearly everyone that you’ve seen here. They all look young and entirely too pretty. This man is no different. He’s sporting a very blond, shaggy semi-mullet that doesn’t look like it could possibly be his natural hair color. Yet, it looks remarkably believable on him. When you frown at the amount of food he’s giving to the otters, he walks over to the side of the enclosure and leans on the railing close to you. He tosses a bucket of crab legs out into the water and the otters go crazy for that. It seems an odd choice for animals living in captivity, but what do you know? 

“Did you know,” the man begins, “that sea otters eat 25% of their weight in food every day?” 

Well. That certainly explains it. “I didn’t.” 

“I like to give them the crab legs too because it’s a fun little activity for them,” he carries on with a smile. “It’s also something they’d eat in the wild.” 

“That seems…expensive,” you say carefully. 

The man only smiles bigger. “Oh it is! But our boss has really great donors for the aquarium and we can afford to feed them well.” 

“Well, then the otters are definitely lucky,” you note and turn back to the otters.

“We all are. Chan takes care of us just as well as all the animals that live here,” he says. 

“Chan?” you ask. 

“Oh, our boss,” the man carries on happily. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.” 

You take his extended hand and give your own name in response. Soonyoung happily carries on with telling you all about the otters they have, including the name of each one. Then he offers to take you on a tour of the aquarium because of your interest. It’s too nice of an offer to turn down. It also further proves that you should not judge a book by its cover. Every inch of the aquarium is so masterfully cared for and every living being seems happy. That is, if a fish can also seem happy. The tanks aren’t overcrowded or dirty. And, you can’t explain it, but you can just tell they’re happy. Each person that they encounter seems to genuinely love their job. You’re not even sure why you’re paying such close attention. Or why you care so much. 

Truthfully, there’s always been something of a call to the ocean. A peace that comes over you when you’re near the water. It was enough to get you to move cities, figuring that would satisfy that need. The pull only got stronger. Plenty of people feel at peace surrounded by water, you reason, and don’t think further on it. You don’t consider that worrying about the conditions in an aquarium may not be normal. Don’t consider that most people don’t start getting moody when they’ve been separated from the ocean too long. Don’t consider that it really is only the ocean. Although sometimes a freshwater lake, when it’s big enough with plenty of fish in it, will fill up your cup, it never lasts as long. It also never works to alleviate your mood when you do something as simple as going into the pool. 

The trip around the aquarium with Soonyoung seems like exactly what you need. Until suddenly, it doesn’t. As he’s taking you through an exhibit area, a young man appears from behind a closed door marked as Staff Only. He’s got a dress shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His short dark hair highlights striking features. And, you think, he would be beautiful if it weren’t for the frown on his face. He looks entirely too serious for someone so young. He’s also much more dressed up than anyone else at the aquarium.

“Oh, there he is!” Soonyoung exclaims, causing the man to turn towards the two of you. His face softens a bit at seeing Soonyoung before studying you somewhat quizzically. 

“Soon,” he says with the air of someone exasperated at Soonyoung’s antics. 

“This is Chan, our boss,” Soonyoung carries on and your eyebrows fly into your hairline as he introduces you to his boss. 

Truthfully, Chan looks younger than Soonyoung in some ways. But, there’s a wisdom in his face that your new friend lacks. Like he’s lived a hundred lifetimes already. It catches you off guard. But, Chan extends his hand to shake yours and that’s when you feel it. A sudden surge of annoyance that lasts only as long as your hands are connected. If he feels anything, he doesn’t show it. His smile is friendly and it only confuses you further. 

A moment later, Chan excuses himself from the pair of you and Soonyoung leads you away to continue the tour. You can’t really shake the odd feeling you got from the handshake, though. When Soonyoung concludes his tour, you ask about opportunities to volunteer. There’s something about this place that feels like home and you’re not really sure what it is. Soonyoung’s face brightens. 

“Chan doesn’t believe in volunteers. Even if you only come in once a month, he pays you for your time and obviously waives the entrance fee so you can come visit even when you’re not working,” he says with a bright smile.

“Oh, I don’t need a job…” you start before he waves you off. 

“Leave me your contact information and I’ll pass it on. He coordinates everything himself and he can go over it all with you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have another animal lover around here,” Soonyoung says with a smile that you can’t ignore. You just met this man, why are you already incapable of saying no to him? 

“Do you have some paper?” you ask.

Chan spends the rest of the day thinking about you after a simple handshake. Then, when Soonyoung tells him that you’re interested in helping out, his pulse races in a way that’s entirely foreign to him. He can’t remember the last time a human turned his world upside down with something so seemingly trivial. In fact, he was so focused on keeping his face neutral, he didn’t notice the look on your face in response to him. He’s too concerned with seeing you again to consider anything else. Too consumed by the need to unravel whatever mystery there is to you that he can’t seem to place. Honestly, Chan can’t remember the last time he felt anything even approaching this. Nothing makes him really feel in this way. Not anymore, at least. He finds himself counting down until your first shift.

Until it actually gets here, that is. 

You report to Chan’s office, just as he asks. He holds his breath as you cast your eyes around his office area. Wonders what you’re thinking when your gaze lingers on certain things within the office. For a second, Chan considers whether it seems human enough. It’s been nearly a year since anyone new joined the staff and he wonders if he’s gotten sloppy. Nothing in your face seems to give any sort of feeling away. It surprises Chan a bit that he can’t seem to read anything about you. When your eyes rest on him, he sees a flicker of something he can’t place. Something that looks an awful lot like annoyance. 

He confirms it when his hand accidentally grazes yours to hand over your new ID. It says volunteer since you insist on only being there when you have the time, but it’s a full ID anyway. That’s just how Chan does things. When his hand meets yours briefly, he gets the sharpest flash of irritation he’s ever felt. It’s confusing because it is definitely not his own emotion that he’s feeling. And that’s not something that Chan can remember happening before either. Not like this at least. 

Chan has powers, he knows that. He can, sometimes, tune into the emotions of others. It’s easiest when he’s trying to tune into a sea animal or someone at home in water. Back before Olympus fell, he was able to tune into the emotions or even the minds of all the creatures in the sea, like the sirens, sea nymphs, merpeople, and everything else you could imagine. Even then, he usually has to actively try to tap into those emotions. It’s not something that just…happens. Not when all he’s done is let his hand graze someone else’s. Not when he’s not actively trying to feel something. It shouldn’t be something that happens with a mere human, either. 

You, for your part, don’t seem to realize there’s anything out of the ordinary. Your face looks the same. The same annoyance that you’re trying your hardest to mask under a poor attempt at indifference. Trying to shake it off, Chan calls for Soonyoung to come into the office. But, that doesn’t make it any better. It’s worse, really, because your face immediately changes into one of genuine happiness. Soonyoung seems just as happy to see you and happy at the prospect of showing you around. To be fair, Soonyoung always seems happy when there’s someone new around for him to chat with. Still, your face lighting up for him frustrates Chan in a way he can’t explain. 

Your first few times volunteering at the aquarium go really smoothly. Well, once you’re handed off to Soonyoung, it’s smooth. There’s just something about your new boss that you can’t really put your finger on. Seeing him causes annoyance to flare within you. It’s something deep that you can’t really explain and can’t recall feeling before. There’s no reason for you to dislike this man. He’s really just a man, which shouldn’t be enough on its own. Whenever he’s around, he’s perfectly friendly. It’s obvious that he cares deeply for every living thing within the aquarium. This is something he’s incredibly passionate about, which should endear him to you. Yet, it doesn’t. You can’t recall ever disliking a fellow animal lover until now. 

Thankfully, you don’t really have to deal with Chan very often. Soonyoung handles your training when you’re working, but everyone that works there seems kind. And everyone seems young. The place is full of bright-eyed 20-somethings who all genuinely seem to want to be there. It contributes to that little nagging feeling in that back of your mind that something is just…off. Not with anyone that works there apart from Chan, though.

Soonyoung seems delighted to see how quickly the otters warm up to you. Apparently, they can be a bit picky with new people. But, the first time you meet them, they all flock to you instead of their normal handler. Anyone else might be frustrated. Instead, he only thinks it’s cute that they seem to love you. Tells you that he thinks he means you're a good person. Apparently, he often judges people based on how the animals react. You both have that in common. It only seems to reinforce the point when this happens with each new enclosure you go to. None of the animals seem to treat you like a stranger. It’s more like they’re greeting an old friend. You can’t really explain that you feel the same way. Your brain periodically supplies a story for some of your new animal friends, too. It’s not the first time it’s happened and you figure it only makes sense in this setting. Your imagination is active and you love the sea creatures.

Each new visit to the aquarium seems somehow better than the last. Well, in most ways. You often feel Chan’s gaze on you before you even look over at him to check. And each time he is actually looking at you. There’s something that just sets your nerves on edge about it. Even the animals around you seem to react to the sudden surge of anger that courses through you. It’s a strong physical reaction without any clear reason that you can figure out. Yet, it’s the way you feel every time you sense his attention on you.

“You good?” Soonyoung asks, eyes cast down at your hands balled into fists. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize, turning back to him. “What were you saying?” 

“What’s going on with you and Chan?” he asks skeptically. 

“Between Chan and me?” you ask with clear surprise.

“Yeah,” he says. “He spends half the time you’re here watching you and…” 

“He does, doesn’t he?” you ask, a little too loud. “What’s up with that?” 

“What’s up with your hatred for him?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know, I just get a bad feeling,” you say after a moment. “Do you like him?” 

“Do I like the boss that overpays me to hang out with animals all day?” he asks with a laugh. Then, he looks at your face and carries on. “Oh, you’re serious. Yeah, I love Chan. None of us really know him that well because he keeps his distance from the staff outside of work, mostly. But, he’s the best boss I can imagine having. I don’t ever get bad vibes off him.” 

“Huh,” is all you say before turning back to whatever Soonyoung is teaching you.

Your eyes catch on the mysterious aquarium owner once again and that anger flares. But, you realize that it’s something more complicated than anger. It’s far too complex an emotion to put a name too and definitely too complex for someone you barely know. 

It’s just odd you think, not for the first time, that someone seemingly so young is running an aquarium that doesn’t seem to be that busy. How is he affording to take care of the animals and pay his staff so well? How is someone that seems so unlikeable able to convince so many donors to give money when it could be better spent elsewhere?

The nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you seem to be the only person that doesn’t love Chan. Everyone on the staff seems to love him. The few donors his staff have met also seem to only have good things to say. You have to consider the possibility that your feelings about him could be personal or that you’re seeing something that doesn’t impact anyone else. It’s still weird, though. Nothing about this business model should work. Is that a reason to hate someone you don’t actually know? You’re not sure.

Chan speaks with a dolphin that he’s grown to trust. No, not Chan. Poseidon. He’s Poseidon again, in all his glory. And he’s asking the dolphin to find someone for him. He’s explaining where she might be and what to say to her when the dolphin finds her. Stressing how important it is that the dolphin is the one to find her because they’re not the only ones looking. There are others looking as well and Poseidon doesn’t want them to find her. It would be bad, he knows, if anyone but himself or someone working on his behalf were to discover the truth. He’s protecting her as much as he’s protecting himself. At least, that’s what his brain insists. Whether it’s true or not, well…

The scene blurs and shifts. Poseidon is once again by the sea and this time speaking to a giant squid instead of the dolphin. The squid tells him that the woman has been found. That the dolphin succeeded and is currently speaking to her. That brings Poseidon a small sense of relief. Surely, when she understands the situation, she’ll be not only willing to come home but happy to do so. Nothing can keep them separated any longer. They are truly meant to be. 

Again, the scene blurs and shifts. This time, Poseidon sits on his throne, trident in hand, while one of his brother’s messengers kneels before him. When she rises, she delivers the message that Zeus has requested for Poseidon and his bride-to-be to join himself and Hera for an upcoming event. That’s not good, Poseidon thinks, not good at all. Surely his brother isn’t fully aware of the situation and yet he sends his messengers with invitations like this. Just as Poseidon prepares himself to make an excuse, the door to the room opens. Usually, he doesn’t allow interruptions, as his guards well know. But, the sight of his love walking through with her head held high keeps him from scolding the guards. He cannot believe that she’s back and walking in as if nothing happened. As if it hasn’t been weeks since they last saw each other. He got word she was coming back, but had not dared to hope for this.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, my love, but I heard your brother had sent an invitation,” she begins. The messenger won’t notice the hesitation or the emotions that pour off of her because she doesn’t have that gift. Poseidon feels it, though. It doesn’t put him at ease

“It’s fine. You are always welcome to hear anything shared here with me,” he says quickly. 

She turns to the messenger with her signature soft smile. “I would still apologize for interrupting your message. However, I heard that you were here with an invitation. I fear that my darling may have declined as I was recently suffering an illness.” 

“Yes, that is what I was about to do,” Poseidon agrees.

“There is no need for that as I have told you that I am feeling much better now,” she says with a brief, but calculated, smile at Poseidon. She returns to the messenger. “Please inform Zeus that we would be delighted to join him.” 

“I am thankful to hear you’re feeling better and to…see you with my own eyes,” the messenger says slightly suspiciously. 

“I am also thankful that I will get to see Hera. After all, we have so much to discuss with the upcoming wedding,” his bride-to-be says. 

With pleasant goodbyes, the messenger takes her leave and Poseidon excuses the guards remaining in the chamber. He indicates that his bride should follow him to a much smaller room off to the side so that they can speak. After all, there is so much to discuss after her running away and only to finally return. Yes, she had indicated to the messenger that she intended to go through with the wedding, but Poseidon needs answers. He needs to know why she left and to impress upon her that she could not do something like that again. 

Chan wakes up in the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat from the most vivid dream he’s had in centuries. The fact that a dream lingers at all is strange on its own. He doesn’t dream. Not anymore, at least. When he does, the subject is usually something inane and the remnants of it are gone by the time he’s fully awake. This dream is both vivid and lingering, seared into the back of his eyelids like it may never leave him. Perhaps it is because it’s not just a dream.

There’s a lot to Chan’s past that he wants to forget and for good reason. When he was one of the gods of Olympus, he made a lot of decisions that he wouldn’t make now. Or, he likes to think he wouldn’t make the same decisions now. It’s hard to remember the feeling of the weight of the world so many years later. But, he knows he did a lot of things in the interest of finding the greater good. Something that ruined some of his closest relationships and clearly still haunts him today. 

Which leads him to this dream. A dream of Amphitrite. The legends about the gods of Olympus over the years have gotten a lot of information both right and wrong. Unfortunately, the legend of Poseidon and Amphitrite seems mostly right, at least to Chan. She was the one true love of his life. The only being in the entire universe that he actually wanted to spend an eternity with. And he had not treated her the way he should have. Hadn’t appreciated her and respected her autonomy the way he should have. That’s something he thinks about now, as he continues to mature and evolve to understand all the mistakes he made once upon a time. He knows that the way he tried to hold onto her was wrong and that he worried entirely too much about what the other Olympians would think if he lost her. 

There’s also a part of him that lingers on the way she looked in the dream. He remembers that conversation because it actually happened. But, he’s not sure if he’s actually remembering the way she looked or the way he felt a tightness to his chest. That could just as easily be him looking back on the interaction through a different lens. There are so many things he wishes he could go back and change with her. So many things he wishes he could say. Mostly, even though he loved her more than he even loved himself, he wishes he could go back and give her the chance to walk away. To leave him without any sort of reprisal from the other Olympians. 

After all these years, he regrets how their relationship went. It wasn’t love when someone didn’t have options. He knows that he can’t change the past. He knows that he can’t even ask for forgiveness. It’s part of why he keeps himself from getting too close to anyone now, he thinks. As a sort of penance for forcing the only one he ever loved into a marriage that he can’t say that she wanted. Of course, she told him when she came back it was because she wanted to. Insisted that she was just nervous to be thrust into such a spotlight by his side. Says that she was worried because he had other relationships with other people and she saw how it affected other Olympians, like Hera with Zeus. That wasn’t who she ever wanted to turn into. Chan took her at what she said. It was only after he lost her that he realized it may not have been the truth. Their love may not have been the great story that he created in his head. 

He knows that he won’t be able to fall back to sleep, so he resigns himself to starting his day. After he gets ready, he sits down with a cup of coffee and his schedule for the aquarium. Today is the once per month visit from the local marine veterinarians. Although miraculously, it seems the animals never need much care, the vets still come in every month. They collect samples and run their tests to ensure that everything is going well as a general health study. They have staff that come over more frequently for some of the animals that need more consistent care. It’s also an excellent place to study since Chan allows them such complete access. 

That monthly visit isn’t what really catches his eye. Your name is on the schedule and Soonyoung has you listed as the person who will be working with the vets to make sure they have the help they need. It’s standard, really, and Chan knows Soonyoung will be around as well. That man can never ignore a chance to chat with anyone that comes through regularly. Chan also knows that Soonyoung trusts you. There’s just something about your name that sends his stomach lurching without an explanation. Sure, you haven’t exactly been the warmest in the interactions with Chan, but you’re good at the jobs assigned. It’s like there’s something just on the edge of his consciousness about you. Something just out of reach. A connection that he should be able to make and can’t. At least, not yet. 

Even though he’s going to be very early, he sets off for the aquarium and tries to shake the feeling that there’s something about you he should see. He’s never been very good when he can’t solve a problem. You may present his most complex puzzle yet. 

It’s one of the best days since you first started volunteering at the aquarium. Somehow this is the first time you’ve gotten to see the vets there for a full day and it even makes you extend your own shift. Well, it’s partially influenced by Soonyoung’s offer to buy dinner if you’re still there when he gets finished. Mostly, though, you’re just fascinated watching the vets do their work. It’s interesting to see how willing the animals are to be still for tests and how it seems like they know what to expect. You know that animals are smart and they can learn. There’s something a little different about this, though. Not only do they seem to actually see the veterinarians, but they also actively wait their turns to be seen. 

At the end of the day, you’re a little tired and feeling very accomplished at the same time. Maybe all of Soonyoung’s energy is actually infectious because you find that you’re ready to go get dinner with your friend after work. His presence is somehow calming to you even in all of the chaos. Once you make sure everything is done, you change into the spare clothes you have with you. The last thing you want is to smell like fish and whatever else got on you over the course of the day. Then, you go to find your friend. 

“Hey, are you ready for dinner?” you ask without realizing that he’s standing with Chan.

“You guys have plans?” Chan asks with curiosity, looking from you back to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks incredibly apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but I completely forgot that it’s roomies night in and I can’t skip it because I missed the last one.” 

“Oh, that’s fine,” you say quickly and wave it off. 

“You should come! We always have a bunch of appetizers and stuff. I can’t remember what movie it is tonight, but it’ll be fun!” he says, as enthusiastic as ever. “I know I offered to buy dinner tonight…” 

“I appreciate it, Soonie, but I think I’m just going to get dinner and go home,” you say. “I’m going to hold you to your dinner offer, though.” 

“I was actually just about to go get something to eat myself,” Chan interrupts and you narrow your eyes. “I would be happy to get dinner for you as well as a thanks for everything you’ve been doing here.” 

“I don’t want to make…” you start, only to have Soonyoung cut across you.

“That’s so nice of you, Chan,” he says and turns to you. “You should go! He’s got the best taste in restaurants. I still think about the last time he took all the staff out.” 

“It’s really fine, I can just get something on my way home,” you say. 

“I insist,” Chan says with something unreadable on his face. “Please. Let me say thank you for jumping in so completely.” 

“Yeah, what reason could you have to say no?” Soonyoung asks with a smirk. That’s the other thing about your new friend. He can be such a shithead when he wants to be. Of course he’s using this to needle you about your dislike of the boss. It comes up at least once every time you’re at the aquarium (and plenty of times when you’re texting outside of work).

You sigh, knowing that there’s no easy way to get out of this. “Okay, let me just get my things and I’ll meet you at the entrance.” 

The walk from the aquarium to Chan’s favorite restaurant is outwardly quiet. It’s not entirely uncomfortable to walk in silence with you. Or, it wouldn’t be if your emotions weren’t screaming into the silence. The general annoyance that seems to be present any time Chan is in the same space as  you comes through loudest. There’s more now that it’s just the two of you outside of work now, too. He feels a kind of anger and distrust coming off of you along with confusion about why you feel any of these emotions. It takes time to separate that as your own confusion because Chan’s also confused. The two of you barely interact at work and yet your distaste for him rolls off of you in violent waves, like an angry ocean. It’s the only time he’s felt something like this from someone at work. Everyone else seems to like him at the very least. Something about you is very different. 

Thankfully, it’s harder for Chan to sense you once you get into the restaurant. It’s a little busier since it’s a weekend, but you still get seated right away. If you’re impressed with how Chan greets the staff like old friends, you don’t show it. Just sit down in the chair and accept the menu with a smile before disappearing behind it. Suddenly, this doesn’t really seem like the best idea. What does it matter if you don’t like him? 

“You don’t like me,” Chan announces a second later. He never has been able to let a mystery go unsolved. He’s also always prided himself on being able to work out a puzzle. He tries not to ever be as arrogant as his brother, though. 

That makes you peer across the table at him. When he thinks you’re not going to answer, you blurt out: “No, I don’t,” and seem genuinely surprised.

Chan chuckles and looks back at the menu. “At least you admitted it.” 

“I really don’t know why I just said that,” you carry on, setting your menu down. 

“Is it not true?” Chan asks. 

“No,” you say and that makes Chan raise his eyebrows. “I mean, it is true. I don’t really like you. I’m just not sure why…”

“Why you said it? Or why you don’t like me?” he presses.

“Both,” you say with a shrug. 

“Can I ask you something?” he wonders.

“You can,” you say. “I’m not gonna promise to answer if I don’t want to.” 

“That’s fair,” Chan says with a smile. “Why do you volunteer at the aquarium if you don’t like me?” 

“I like to be around the animals,” you say immediately. “I feel at peace.”

“You misunderstood part of what I was asking,” he says. Your eyes are wide. “Why not let me pay you if you don’t like me? You could be making money instead of offering your time for free.” 

That actually makes you laugh. Not a fake polite laugh, one of the real laughs he hears when Soonyoung gets you going. It’s a beautiful sound and it instantly reminds Chan of something. Or someone. He’s not really sure beyond wanting to hear it again. 

“You’re kind of funny. I’ll give you that,” you concede. 

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, eyes still glued to you. 

“I don’t know why it doesn’t feel right to take money for working at the aquarium. It just doesn’t,” you shrug. “It’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever really felt like I was where I’m supposed to be and I probably sound crazy saying it. But, I get to the aquarium and my brain gets quiet and it’s like a weight lifts off my chest.”

“You don’t sound crazy,” is all Chan can say for a second. 

He’s looking at you differently now and he’s not even concerned if you realize it. It’s like something clicks for him. Like he finally pinpoints what it is about you. Of course he didn’t realize at first. It’s so unbelievably uncommon that he never thought to look. But, there’s no denying it. The way you are around the aquarium, the way you seem to slot in like you’ve been there all along, the way he can read your emotions without trying. 

This isn’t your first life. He’s only seen it a handful of times since Olympus fell. The main gods of Olympus, like himself, were able to seek refuge on Earth. Other beings were not so lucky. Many managed one or two reincarnations, but more still just…ceased to exist. It’s something he and some of the others spent a lot of time working through in the beginning. It’s been over two hundred years since Chan came across a reincarnated soul. Yet, here you are. Sitting before him. There’s no mistaking it. Once upon a time, you had been a sea nymph in Olympus. Everything clicks into place when he acknowledges that. He knows the sea nymphs as well as he knows himself. It seems impossible that he wouldn’t recognize all the signs and mannerisms. Then again, he hasn’t come across a reincarnated sea nymph in a very long time. Centuries. 

“Are you okay?” you ask after a few moments. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he says and shakes his head. This isn’t the place to try to process this. “I just haven’t met anyone that could relate to the way I feel in a long time.” 

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” you ask, voice thick with hope. It’s the first time he’s been around you without feeling any negative emotions. 

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I should have known that you understood as well. I felt like you were a kindred spirit, but…”

“I’ve been cold?” you offer with a light laugh. 

“Cautious, I would say,” he disagrees. 

“Maybe we should just start over,” you suggest and that makes Chan smile. 

Dinner actually gets much livelier from there on out. Realizing your past allows Chan to entirely change his approach. Without saying anything before you’re ready, he lets his guard down. In doing so, he hopes that some part of you will realize the connection runs deep. It seems to work, even if it’s only a little. Curiosity becomes the most prominent emotion and he capitalizes on it. 

Chan is able to suggest some of the dishes that he really likes before you ask if you can just get a few things and share them. You’re asking questions about the aquarium and his life that he tries to answer in a way that sounds honest without inviting follow up questions. Instead, he finds himself wanting to know more about you. Despite your initial reluctance to talk too much about yourself, he gets you to open up to his questions. Each answer you give draws him in further. Gives more of a glimpse into you as a person. Nothing feels too small to learn. He wants to map each of your reactions to things you actually love to things that seem difficult to speak about. 

Before either of you realizes it, it’s been over two hours and the restaurant is starting to wind down. Of course, nobody rushes you since Chan knows everyone there by name. But, you still insist it’s probably best to head out. Surprisingly, he’s still only picking up on warmer emotions from you now and maybe that makes him a little bolder. 

“There’s this really great ice cream shop just a little walk that way,” he says as you’re exiting the restaurant. 

The sideways look you give him leaves him wondering if he’s misread the situation. Then, you’re smiling like you know a secret. “I’m shocked you eat dessert.” 

“Are you…are you checking me out?” he splutters. Very little manages to catch him off guard and you have him stumbling over a simple question. 

Without answering, you just laugh and start walking in the direction he indicated. When he doesn’t immediately follow, you look over your shoulder and call out to him. “Well? I thought we were getting ice cream.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and expect…” he starts as he hurries to catch up with you.

“Expect what?” you ask, actually poking out at his side. “I would bet my entire life savings that I’m not the first person to check you out.”

“Oh, so you were checking me out,” he says like he’s just won. 

“I think that’s only fair with how many times I’ve already caught you checking me out,” you fire back, effectively wiping the smug look of Chan’s face. 

It’s been a long time since someone challenged him the way you seem to. Now that you’re talking openly, it feels like he’s known you for years. There’s a comfort that he can’t remember feeling in centuries. It feels like you just implicitly understand a piece of them that he tries to hide in any other situation. 

Something whispers from the back of his mind, like a tickle of familiarity. He ignores it, though, in favor of getting to know the incredibly interesting person before him that doesn’t seem to hate him anymore. 

After having dinner with Chan, you start to look forward to your shifts for an entirely different reason. Yes, you still get the peace that comes along with being around so many beautiful animals and so much water. You also get to feel the pleasant shift of feelings when Chan is around. Instead of feeling like something gnaws at your consciousness, now you feel a warmth coursing through your body. It’s a little strange, too, because it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

Soonyoung notices the way you and Chan gravitate towards each other now and says nothing despite the knowing smile. You don’t have to ask him to know that he thinks it’s down to him insisting you get dinner together. He doesn’t comment, though, and you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. It’s hard to stop yourself from smiling, even when that makes Soonyoung smile even harder. It’s like he wants all the details of something that you don’t have many details on. At least, not at first. 

Hanging out with Chan outside of the aquarium becomes a regular thing, even on the days that you don’t go in. Each of you shows the other your favorite places in the area and you find yourself looking forward to that time more than anything else. Once or twice, you even consider asking Chan if he’s got a more full time position for you at the aquarium. You don’t quite realize you’re not living fully until something like this happens and so much more of life opens up before you. For now, though, you’ll settle for dragging him to a couple of food trucks that you love. He looks entirely out of place in his slacks and dress shirt, though at least he’s rolled up his sleeves. 

“So when are you going to come work with us full time,” he asks after sitting down with his food in front of him. He doesn’t ask you to work for him. Even his phrasing is considerate.

“Oh, well, I…” you stutter out.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he assures you. “I’ve just never met anyone that’s better at it than you and you’re not even there that often” 

“I have been considering it,” you admit. 

“What’s holding you back?” he asks. 

You take a bite to give yourself a minute to think about the answer to that. What is holding you back? Admittedly, you’ve never felt more at ease anywhere else. It’s increasingly harder to leave every time your shift is over. You look forward to when the next one will be. Have even added extra shifts when you can fit them in. There’s a part of you that also looks forward to seeing Chan. Although, you know that you could see him whenever you wanted. He always seems to make time for you. 

“I don’t know,” you finally say.

“Well, there’s a position waiting for you if you ever want it,” he says with a look on his face that you can’t quite read. 

“Why are you so patient with me?” you ask.

“Because we understand each other,” he answers a little too quickly. 

“It’s more than that,” you press, feeling, for the first time, like he’s keeping something from you. 

Chan sighs and sets his food down. “It is, but this isn’t the place to discuss it.” 

That catches you a little off guard. Thinking that there was more to the story and having him admit it so easily were two different things. “You’re not secretly in love with me or something, are you?”

He laughs at the look on your face and it eases a little of the tension. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I love being around you.” 

“No, I guess that’s true,” you say with your own laugh. 

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’ll tell you when we finish eating and we can leave. This kind of thing…well, it’s best to say to you somewhere that’s not so out in the open.”

That announcement surprises you, but it also excites you a little. It’s difficult not to rush through dinner, a fact that Chan picks up on and laughs about. Makes a joke about wanting to get him alone that has color rising on your cheeks. There’s an air of confidence about him despite whatever he’s going to share with you. It makes it a little easier for you to also be calm because it can’t be that bad. If it were bad, he would not seem so confident. 

After dinner, and a short back and forth, he takes you back to his apartment, which includes walking by the aquarium. Somehow, you’re still much more nervous than he seems to be. It seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to invite you back to see where he lives. He also seems quick to assure you that it’s not that he’s trying to get you alone. It just needs to be a space that is actually private. 

Despite any better judgment you may have, your curiosity is piqued. What is it that he has to say to you that others can’t overhear? Is he about to admit some crazy belief? Or tell you that somehow you were destined to meet? You’re not really sure what sort of comment might come once the two of you are alone, but you’re distracted the second you step into his apartment. It’s amazingly decorated. It feels both cozy and modern at the same time. It also feels so impossibly like him and the ocean combined into one. Maybe that’s saying the same thing. He does give you the impression of the water sometimes. 

Being inside of Chan’s personal space also feels surprisingly natural. He disappears off into the kitchen without a second thought and allows you to look around the space. When he returns, it’s with a drink for you as he encourages you to take a seat on his couch. It’s the most comfortable couch you’ve ever sat down on.

“How much do you know about the Gods of Olympus?” he asks without any preamble. Thankfully, you haven’t taken a drink yet. Otherwise, you might have spit it out.

“Like the stuff from mythology?” you ask. It’s so unexpected.

A little voice whispers in the back of your head asking if it’s really that unexpected. The truth is: you’ve always been incredibly fascinated by the myths. There’s a draw to them almost to the point of getting lost in them. But, are you going to admit that you’ve read all the books you could find and watched all the shows or movies? It’s only fantasy, really, when you think about it. You’ve bared a lot of your soul to Chan without meaning to. You’re not sure you want him to laugh at you about this. That same little voice comes back to ask if he would laugh. You’re not so sure.

“Not exactly,” he says with a knowing laugh. “You consume it though, don’t you? I can see it on your face.” 

“I - well, lots of people do, don’t they?” you ask noncommittally. 

“Not like you, I’d bet,” he answers, unbothered. 

“I guess it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure,” you finally admit. 

“I think it’s more than that,” Chan presses. 

“How can it be? They’re just myths after all,” you say.

“Do you believe that?” he asks and it’s like he’s challenging every one of your long held notions. 

“Chan, what did you want to tell me?” you ask.

“Let me tell you about Olympus as I remember it,” he says. 

“As you…remember it,” you say slowly. “Chan, what…”

“Just hear me out and let me tell you a story. You can decide afterwards if I’m crazy or if it makes everything fall into place,” he says. 

And he does tell you a story. It’s a story about the Gods of Olympus with more information thrown in than you’ve ever read in any story or seen in any movie. It’s at once more fantastical and somehow more believable than anything. There are parts that you recognize. Parts that seem to line up with the stories. And there are parts that feel entirely new. Parts that are deeply emotional and clearly difficult for Chan to say. You delight in the way his face lights up when he talks about the parties or living amongst the sea animals. Completely accept it at face value when he tells you about how his scouts used to be dolphins and how much he misses that. Your heart breaks when he talks about the fights with his siblings and the other Olympians. It all feels like you’re walking along beside him in his stories. 

It’s insane to think that any of this could be real. You keep telling yourself as you listen to the stories. But, it’s hard to remember that when you see the look on Chan’s face. There’s fondness when he talks about some of the sillier memories. Like he can’t believe that anyone was ever that ridiculous. There’s genuine pain as he tries to get through the more complicated parts. When it comes time to tell you about how Olympus fell, he chokes up. 

You believe him. It’s like something shifts and you can tell that he’s not crazy. He’s not delusional. He’s not on some crazy conspiracy theory. He was Poseidon once upon a time. The feelings of calm that you feel every time you walk into the aquarium wash over you. Like this is the only thing that’s ever made sense. That should be a little disorienting to take in all that information. Instead it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Chan isn’t even done talking when you lean over and press your lips against his. You’re not even sure why you do it or if it’s the right thing to do. When you go to pull away, he puts his hand behind your head and holds you against him. Kisses you breathless like nobody has ever kissed you before. It feels instantly familiar and new all at the same time. Like something you may have done before. But, it also sends sparks flying through your entire body. 

“So, should I carry on with telling you how you fit into all of this?” he asks when the two of you break apart from the kiss. 

“Me?” you ask, still recovering from the impulsive act of kissing him. 

“Yes, you,” he says with a soft smile. 

“I’m just a person lucky enough to meet an actual god, what could I…” you start.

“You’re not just a person,” he contradicts with a frown.

“I’m not trying to diminish myself or anything,” you assure him, but he still shakes his head.

“Can I talk?” he asks without any exasperation, though you may deserve it. You just nod. “You’re not just a person. You’re…well, I’m not sure how it works, really. I’ve come across it so infrequently. You have the reincarnated soul of a sea nymph within you. Possibly even one I encountered in another life.” 

“How can that be?” you ask with wide eyes. “No, I’m just a normal person, I…” 

“If you think about it, it actually makes perfect sense,” he says and carries on.

It sounds so simple when he outlines it for you. He asks you about your connection with the ocean, talks about your instant familiarity with the aquarium and how at peace you feel. Points out that you never feel at peace in a swimming pool, though you’re sure you’ve never said that to him. He talks about your mood shifting when you’re away from the water for too long or the way that everything about the water just seems easier. He even laughs when you admit that once when you were on vacation, a dolphin came right up to you in the ocean and seemed like it wanted your attention. It’s also not the only time something like that happened. 

Everything starts to fall into place. It’s like decoding the last little cypher of your life up until that point and showing you memories in a different light. You wonder if you’ll be able to remember anything from being a sea nymph and Chan looks apologetic when he says he doesn’t think it’ll work like that. But, he admits he’s never gotten close enough to another reincarnated soul like this to fully be able to answer it. The excitement drowns out a small voice in the back of your head that’s urging you to move cautiously. Urging you to consider if all of this really sounds right. 

You can’t really help the way your bodies seem to be drawn to each other. Many more kisses follow now that the invisible barrier seems broken. When he’s not kissing you, Chan runs his hands along whatever part of you that he can reach. 

Eventually, you don’t really want to talk. It seems absentminded, the way that Chan runs his fingers along your arm or squeezes your thigh. It’s driving you insane, though, and you need to know if he’s feeling as bothered as you are. 

“How much are you paying attention to this conversation?” you ask.

“Uh…” he says, eyes widening a bit at the question. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely out of control. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” you whine and look at his hand gripping your thigh. 

That causes his look to change entirely. He’s not out of control anymore. Now he looks a bit smug. “Oh, I’m driving you crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit without a second thought.

“I thought you weren’t even sure if you liked me?” he presses and you huff out a breath.

“I already kissed you, Chan. I think it’s clear I’m not on the fence anymore,” you say.

“Maybe I should show you my bedroom,” he says and stands.

You take his outstretched hand without hesitation. “Finally.” 

The two of you get through the doorway into his bedroom and he doesn’t even bother pretending to give you a tour. He only turns around to face you, crowding your space and forcing you back into the doorframe. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you hard. It’s not desperate, it’s perfectly controlled. Nobody has ever kissed you like this before. At least nobody that you can remember. His body presses tight against yours until you’re gasping for breath. Still, he doesn’t let you relax. He’s proving a point. If you thought he was driving you crazy earlier, it’s nothing to this. 

You gasp into his mouth when he moves a hand to hitch one of your legs around his hip. Gasp again when he does the same to your other leg and he’s balancing you against the doorframe. It seems impossible that he’s this strong. Maybe that’s part of being a god because he also barely seems to lose his breath as he keeps kissing you. You’re not usually so content to let someone else lead, but it’s so easy with him. It helps that nothing is frantic. Even though he’s driving you crazy, you love that it doesn’t feel rushed. Love that he’s really taking his time with you.

It could be minutes that Chan kisses you or it could be hours and you’re not really sure if you would know the difference. When he sets you down, it feels like an immediate loss. At least until he pulls you towards the bed. Only his eyes give away how badly he wants you. They’re dark with lust that you’re sure your own eyes reflect back at him. 

“Is this still okay?” he asks, voice thick with desire. You nod. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Chan. I want this,” you assure him. 

Thankfully it’s the only reassurance that he needs. He gently pushes you back onto his bed and immediately gets to work pulling your clothing off you. His eyes drink in every mark on your body and for the first time, you’re not self conscious. You don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you and it has nothing to do with the way he looks at you. Though, it doesn’t hurt that his desire only grows as he peels your clothing off. No, there’s just this inexplicable comfort with him. That voice in the back of your head quiets. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re so in the moment or because this is actually right. You’re not really sure it matters. 

When Chan steps back from you, you have the briefest moment of insecurity. It’s gone the next moment when he starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. Actually, your entire mind goes blank. If Chan was beautiful with clothes on, it’s nothing to seeing him removing his shirt. You know that he can change his appearance at will and know that it’s how he’s fit into places this long. So, you know that it might not be entirely him, but you’re not sure you care. Your eyes travel over the scars he still has. Probably remnants of real scars over the years. Somehow the imperfections make him more perfect in your eyes. You’re so caught up in looking at the scars that you miss him removing the rest of his clothing until he’s approaching you.

“Sit back,” he instructs.

You do as he asks without even thinking twice about it. That, at least, makes a voice stir in the back of your mind. Makes you wonder why you’re so content to do as he asks. When he climbs onto the bed and settles between your legs, the voice goes quiet again. He peppers up your leg and down the other with feather light kisses. He doesn’t draw out the build up, though. 

Chan runs a finger carefully through your folds and it makes you shudder. He watches your body carefully as he does it again, like he’s trying to map your reactions to everything. Like he wants to know exactly how to make you come undone. It’s such a simple action that works you up. When he licks into your pussy, you think it’s your new favorite feeling. It makes your entire brain go fuzzy. You don’t even realize that you’re arching your back until one of his hands snakes up your stomach to press you back into place. 

It’s almost too much, the way he works you over. He’s constantly changing the pace and his movements. His mouth moves up to suck on your clit and his finger moves down to pump into your pussy in lazy motions. The contrast of the movements makes you squirm. When you feel like you’re getting close to an orgasm, he switches it up again and pulls you back from the edge. Over and over again. He keeps switching up his attention every time you feel yourself getting close. 

“Chan, oh my fucking god,” you groan. “I’m going to die if you don’t let me come.” 

“Well, you got one thing right,” he says, pulling away from your pussy. “I am a god.”

“I hate you,” you say without any heat.

He pulls himself up your body so that he’s hovering over you, entirely too close. You can see the way your juices cover his lips. He eyes you greedily and it’s the hottest thing in the world. It’s even hotter when he lets you pull him down on top of you and kiss him. You moan into his mouth when he ruts his hard length against your thigh. 

When he pulls back, you know that you lost whatever game you’re playing. “Doesn’t seem like you hate me.” 

“Just please fuck me,” you say, completely breathless. 

“Anything you want,” he says. 

You gasp when he leans forward again to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. Everything about him seems so in control. Yet, you can feel how much he wants you, too. It’s obvious that you’re not alone in wanting this and that he’s just better at controlling the situation. 

Somehow, as he’s kissing you, he manages to spread your legs apart underneath him. It’s embarrassing the way you chase his lips when he pulls back. Or it would be if you didn’t meet his eyes to see all the desire reflecting back at you. He repositions so that he’s between your legs again and lines himself up at your entrance. Chan runs his tip through your folds while he watches for your reaction. It’s all you can do to stop yourself from wiggling to urge him to work faster. Nothing he does is fast, though, and why would this be any different. Slowly, he presses himself into you. Even as you’re begging him for more, he inches into you instead of snapping his hips forward. 

Finally, after what seems like minutes (and is probably only seconds), he’s fully buried and it’s the best feeling in the world. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as he adjusts his position. Then, he pulls almost all the way about before snapping back in and your mind goes blank again. Like nothing else exists apart from the two of you, the sound of his skin on yours, and the words shared between you. Praise spills from Chan’s lips as you’re just asking for more and more of him. 

This time, he doesn’t bring you right to the edge only to pull you back. He picks up his pace and has you coming so hard that you see stars without warning. You’re so thankful that you don’t immediately realize that he doesn’t pull out of you. He stills himself inside you and peppers gentle kisses all over your face as you work through the orgasm. 

He’s definitely not so gentle once the aftershocks work through your body. 

In one motion, he has you in his arms and in a completely different position. It’s a level of strength and speed you’re not expecting. You’re sitting up now and about to protest that you don’t have the energy to fuck him like this, when he does the work for you. Even though you’re straddling his lap, he plants his feet and thrusts into you. It’s a slightly slower pace than you’re expecting. Just enough that you feel the tension building, but not enough for it to do anything. At least for you. You’re not sure about Chan. 

You can’t help it. All you want to do is kiss him so that he knows how good this feels. Not that he really needs more of an indication. You think he can probably read your body pretty well. The first time with someone new is usually awkward. This has been anything but. He knows exactly what you need and just how far he can push you before it’s too much.

And that really does seem true. You’re just about to go into overstimulated territory when he changes the position again. You get the briefest of breaks for him to settle behind you. It could be as innocent as cuddling until he hikes your leg up and presses his length into you without warning.

“Chan, jesus fuck,” you cry out. 

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” he coos into your ear. “Can you be good for just a little longer?”

“Yes,” you pant. 

“Even if I fuck you hard?” he asks, experimentally picking up his pace.

“Yes, please, just…fuck,” you yell out as he snaps into you harder.

“So perfect,” he murmurs into your skin. 

His thrusts immediately get faster and you can tell he’s ready to stop dragging it out. He’s still doing more than his share of the work and it’s insane to realize how much stamina he seems to have. The new angle allows him to hit you deeper than before. You’re already so worked up that it’s not long before he’s pushing you into your second orgasm. This time, he follows right behind you, erratically thrusting as his breath stutters by your ear. 

He collapses behind you, but still holds you close against his chest. Your breathing matches his without even thinking about it. Neither one of you really needs to say anything to know that it was something completely unexpected. You can’t remember ever having better sex than with him. Leave it to Chan to ruin you for anyone else that could possibly try to come after him.

Eventually, Chan pulls himself out and off the bed. He holds out his hand to help you into the bathroom with him. You make a joke about how you don’t have another round in you and his smile is instant. His features go soft when he says he just wants to help you clean up. 

(That doesn’t hold true for the next morning since he insists you should sleep over. You may be incredibly sore afterwards. You also know that you don’t care. In that moment, you think you would let Chan fuck you senseless for the rest of your life without complaining. Who cares if you’re a little sore? You’ve never felt so connected to someone in your entire life. And he just happens to be one of the gods of Olympus.)

Things seem to fall into place quickly for you and Chan after he shares his past with you. It’s like the last two puzzle pieces in an absurdly complicated puzzle. One of those ones where the pieces aren’t in the standard square shapes. Yet, now that you’re perfectly slotted together, it’s like you’ve been that way your whole lives. The two of you are together more often than you’re not. Late nights exploring or staying up until the early hours of the morning talking. Lazy mornings wrapped up in the covers of the bed (where you actually get Chan to spend more time away from the aquarium than he ever has before). Chan doesn’t even really have time to overthink anything.

His biggest win comes when you finally admit that you’re ready to leave your boring job and come to work at the aquarium full time. That only takes a few weeks after he tells you that you were a sea nymph in a former life. He’s still even a little at the complete lack of pushback on it. You accept it just as easily as you accept that he was Poseidon once upon a time. And you’re not accepting it in the way someone does to pacify a crazy person. That much is clear with how much more time you spend anywhere that Chan is. Somehow, the rest of Chan’s staff doesn’t even seem to comment on how quickly you become inseparable. Soonyoung seems to be smiling even more than usual (a feat Chan didn’t think possible). But, otherwise everyone just accepts the new normal. Everyone seems thrilled to have you around more permanently and that makes Chan’s heart constrict. 

He doesn’t have time to think about any of it. Until he does, very suddenly, think about all the feelings you bring up in him.

Chan is careful with relationships. He’s friendly with his staff, but they’re not really friends (despite Soonyoung’s best efforts). He doesn’t get to know anyone at any of the places he shops or have any hobbies where he interacts with people. It can get lonely if Chan thinks too closely about it, but what is the alternative? People’s lives are finite, measurable. Chan’s is not. At least, it hasn’t been yet. There are no signs he’s slowing down over the many centuries he’s been through. Then there’s you. You who are very much human. Though, it’s been a long time since he’s come across another reincarnated Olympian. There isn’t a rule book for how those lives go and there’s never been one that Chan stuck by long enough to find out. 

The real question, though, is whether he’s willing to stick around this time to see how it works. Is he willing to risk everything only to figure out that you’re merely a mortal? That you’re going to fall victim, if you’re lucky, to the curse all humans succumb to? That’s if you’re lucky enough to live to old age and something else doesn’t happen before then. Human life is so fragile. It’s a lot to process. More so since he’s not really talking to you about how he’s feeling. 

You notice. Of course you notice. Chan starts to get a little more distant as weeks turn into months. He’s still physically present with you and he still tries to act like everything is fine. But, he can feel it in the shift of your moods. Doubt creeps in and he gets snippets of your feelings or even your thoughts. It isn’t fair and he knows that it’s not. He knows he has to talk to you instead of just acting like everything is normal. 

“Are you ready to talk to me yet?” you ask one evening when you’re sitting on his couch with your feet in his lap. 

He stops scrolling through something on his phone and looks over at you. Somehow, you always seem to know when it’s best to apply just a little pressure. Knows his moods and senses when he’s ready to talk about something. There’s no use in acting like he doesn’t know what you mean.

“It’s nothing you’ve done,” he starts and you smile.

“Oh, I know that,” you assure him. That makes him laugh. It’s you all over. 

“It’s just…I don’t usually let myself get close to anyone,” he starts and your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” you say with an attempt at a joke, though it doesn’t quite land.

“I think we both know you’re special,” he says quickly to reassure you. “It’s just…well, there’s a reason for that. Human life is so fleeting.”

“Ah, yes,” you say with a wry smile, “because you’re ancient.”

“Enough,” he chastises without any real heat. 

“Sorry,” you say and throw up your arms.

“I am kind of ancient, though. Not in this body since I’m always changing forms, but in mind. I’ve been around a long time and you…” he says and trails off.

“You’re so sure I have an expiration date?” you ask.

“You’re human,” he says simply.

“And also have the soul of a reincarnated sea nymph,” you remind him. As if he could ever forget. 

“I know,” he concedes. “But I don’t know what that means for your…”

“Life expectancy?” you offer. There’s something almost detached and also calming about the way you say it. “You can’t say for sure that I won’t live beyond a normal human life, either.”

“No, I can’t,” he says. “I’ve never wanted to stick around another reincarnated soul the way I can’t seem to let you out of my sight.”

“Doesn’t that mean it’s worth at least considering?” you ask. 

There’s nothing desperate or emotional about the way you approach the conversation. It’s all based in fact and the information in front of you. As much as you and Chan like to go out on dates, you also like to sit with him while he tries to do research. Both of you want to understand what your soul means for the rest of your body. You want to understand why sometimes he can feel your mood or even hear some of your louder thoughts. It’s fun when you can control it and send something disruptive towards Chan. Fun for you, at least. He doesn’t always appreciate the image of what you want to do to him while he’s trying to do something at work. 

So, you go through all the knowns with him again. Go over everything that you’ve learned. Go through the questions you have unanswered and where there might be more information. You talk things through logically in a way that feels familiar to him. Chan finds himself getting lost in his amazement at your brain and the way you process information. It’s also incredible to him to watch you work through a problem. It lulls him into a place that he hasn’t been in since…

And that’s when it clicks. That’s when he realizes. You’re not just a reincarnated sea nymph. No, it’s much deeper than that. He knows your soul more intimately than he knows his own. He can’t believe that he didn’t see it right away. Can’t believe he’s had you in his bed for months now without realizing.

“You’re not listening anymore,” you comment. You don’t seem upset, only curious. It’s like you want to know where his mind goes.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says and you wave it off. “It’s just, well, I figured out who you used to be.” 

“Uh,” you say, clearly missing a piece. “Yeah? A reincarnated sea nymph? We’ve already covered this.” 

“No,” he disagrees. That makes you raise your eyebrows. “Well, you are, but you’re also more than that. Your soul, it’s…”

“What is it, Chan?” you ask, full attention focusing on him. 

“I should have known. You feel so familiar, like I’ve known you for years,” he says and it’s like he’s talking to himself. “It’s not just some ordinary sea nymph’s soul…”

“Yes, because sea nymphs are so ordinary,” you say with a scoff. “Like people every day are just coming across sea n-”

“It’s Amphitrite’s soul,” he finishes and that stops you mid sentence. Your eyes lock onto his, wide and wondering. 

“Amphitrite? As in Goddess of the sea, most prominent of the sea nymphs and wife of…” she says and can’t seem to finish the sentence.

“Poseidon. The one true love of my life, yes,” he says. 

If you think anything of him referring to Amphitrite as the one true love of his life, you don’t say anything. You go into a contemplative silence. Like if you think hard enough, you may be able to remember her or the relationship with Poseidon. Who knows? Maybe you can. Try as he might, Chan can’t seem to think of a single instance where something like this has happened before. Doesn’t remember someone like Hera returning in this way. He also can’t think of any reason why you would return now, after all this time. Unless this is just the first time he’s found you. There are far more questions than answers. 

“This…changes things,” you say.

“Does it?” he asks. 

“Doesn’t it?” you immediately return. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s like it suddenly makes sense in a way I wasn’t expecting. But, it also feels…more complicated.” 

“Complicated, how? I mean, you were in love with Amphitrite and I assume she, or I, was also in love with you,” you say. “Doesn’t that explain this pull we have to each other?” 

“Our relationship was incredibly complicated,” he says softly. “I have…many regrets about how I handled things when it came to her. And I also can’t wrap my brain around her reappearing after so many years or what that means for you.”

“Why don’t we just start at the beginning? Tell me about your relationship,” you prompt.

“There are parts that were ugly,” he says without meeting your eye. 

The couch shifts and dips as you get closer to him. You lift his chin up gently so he’s looking at you. “The fact that you can admit parts were ugly or that you have regrets shows you’ve learned. So, tell me the whole story and then we’ll go from there.” 

So, he starts talking. 

It starts at the beginning. He was at a celebration when he saw Amphitrite dancing among the other Nereids, the daughters of Nereus, who was also known as the Old Man of the Sea. There had been other consorts before her, but he was instantly smitten. She symbolized everything beautiful and kind about the sea. Everything that he could ever want. So, he approached her father before ever approaching her and asked for her hand. Her father was, understandably, thrilled. It seemed like there was no better match than to allow Poseidon himself to marry one of his daughters. In hindsight, that was absolutely the wrong way to go about it. She should have been given a say in her own life rather than treated like property by her father and the man who claimed to love her. 

Chan talks about what he can remember of their courtship as honestly as he can. From his perspective, everything went wonderfully. After all, why shouldn’t she have been thrilled that he wanted to marry her. Once he had nothing but time to think back on what he had done, he realized that she had not seemed all that interested. It was more like she was going through the motions because she had to. He tried to include her in everything that he could so she would see what her life could be like. Maybe that had been the wrong choice. But, she was a natural when it came to hosting or offering opinions in meetings. At the time, it made him happy to see how well she settled in. Now, it just felt like she had been forced into a life she never wanted.

As the wedding itself got closer, she fled to the far reaches of the ocean. It was a dolphin scout of his that finally managed to find her. He never knew what his scout said to her that made her return. He only knew what he told the scout. They never spoke about it once she came back. She simply returned, assured him she had only been nervous about how important he was, and said she wanted to get married still. So, he also acted like nothing happened, which he knows was as wrong as he could have been. He does think that he tried to be a better partner to her after that, though he’s not sure he succeeded. When he had to make decisions between what might be best for her and what might be best for his position, he chose himself. He also chose the sea over her when he had to make those choices. It was never fair to her. 

Somehow, through all of that, he did really grow to love her. He valued her beyond what he showed. He appreciated her for her unfailing kindness and her insistence when she knew she was right. He appreciated her wit and her mind. He appreciated the way that she was never afraid to tell him what she thought or to let him know when he was making the wrong decision. He appreciated that she didn’t just bend over backwards for him or fawn over him. He only realized after she was gone that he never appreciated her the way that she deserved to be appreciated. Once he lost her, he realized that he should have done anything in the world to protect her. He realized he should have given her the entire sea and made her the ruler because she was far smarter than he had realized. 

You only listen intently without interrupting. In the few moments where Chan looks at you, he struggles to figure out what you’re thinking. Not that you won’t tell him. He knows you will. It’s just very daunting to speak that long without you interjecting. When he stops speaking, you’re still quiet for a moment. 

“I think…Chan, I think I’m starting to remember,” you say with wide eyes. 

And that’s the last thing he expects to hear. He figures you may tell him that he’s horrible for putting someone he claims to have loved through that. Or you could say that it sounds far-fetched to think she’s not just a sea nymph, but a specific nymph that he was deeply in love with. He doesn’t expect for you to look at him in wonder and say you’re remembering. That’s another unknown in this entire mess of a situation. 

Before he can consider if this is something that should even be possible, your lips crash into his. There are so many emotions behind that kiss that he can’t begin to process. There’s longing and a long-forgotten love. There’s excitement about returned memories. There’s the sparks that always fly between you two. The mix of the established feelings with ones Chan never expected to feel again is startling. So, he just lets his mind wander. He lets the feeling of kissing you consume him so thoroughly that it pushes any other conversation out the window. All that exists in that moment is the two of you, however you want to define that. 

The excitement of finding out a long forgotten identity wears off far quicker than you expect it to. Not that you have any frame of reference for this sort of thing. But, surely it should last longer than this. Longer than it takes for you to fall into bed with Chan again. Longer than it takes for him to worship your body as he’s done before and for him to bring you to an orgasm so good it has you screaming. Somehow, in the post-sex haze, he doesn’t realize that you’re quieter than usual. Perhaps that’s a blessing. He kisses you so softly, so sweet and tells you that he’s going to do some research. That’s fine, you insist, because you want to get back home to really get a good night’s sleep. It seems unspoken that he wants to let you process.

But…well, you’re not really sure if you’re still okay with the information. It’s like having sex this time triggered a new flood of memories. Some come across as clearly as if it was something you directly experienced. Others come through more as feelings than anything else. And it’s a lot. Overwhelming in a way that nothing else has been. It’s how you expected to react to finding out that all those myths you were so drawn to were actually real. That feels easy to accept, especially now. Remembering is something else entirely. Because remembering Amphitrite’s experiences as your own just feels complicated. 

Maybe it’s wrong to think of her as a separate person if her soul lives within you. That part isn’t hard to accept, not when you can feel it. The hard part is accepting the feelings about Chan. The memory pushes back on you calling him that. Accepting is also the wrong word. The hard part is reconciling the person you’ve gotten to know with the memories that come flooding back. 

Then, almost as if on cue, that whispering voice returns. It reminds you of how you felt when you first met Chan. Of the distaste you had without being able to place it. Which is true, isn’t it? You didn’t like him without any reason beyond just a feeling. The voice presses memories onto you. Things you actually experienced with Chan mixed in with scenes between Poseidon and Amphitrite. The more you see, the more it feels like your own memories. Like something that you took part in directly. 

It’s putting it mildly to say that things are complicated. There is clear affection there for the person that Amphitrite got to know. Although it’s clear she did not love Poseidon from the beginning, she grew into much stronger feelings. Yet, she can’t separate those fully. She can’t say for sure that the feelings would develop on their own. Did she just love him? Or was it because she, at times, had little contact with anyone outside their palace? Though, that was largely her own choice as things went on. There were too many things to do at home to leave. And there was too much unrest.

Yes, it feels complicated. Now your own memories or the past few months mingle with decades of memories from someone else. You can’t decide if you want to push your own memories aside to make room for the returning ones or keep them side by side. Your new memories don’t really seem to fit, though. Which isn’t surprising. The person you know isn’t the same one that Amphitrite knew. He’s grown in ways that she can scarcely understand or imagine. He’s thoughtful and considerate and much more mature. That doesn’t sit perfectly with the memories. Although, you can tell that there’s a part of the lingering voice that appreciates the growth. Maybe even feels a little responsible for it. Wants to believe that she’s part of the reason he made the changes. 

By the time you make it back to your apartment, your head feels like it’s going to split open. You’re no closer to any answers about what you want to do. No closer to reconciling incredibly complex feelings. No closer to the next step. That’s fine, though. All you can really do now is let yourself drift off to sleep and revisit 

The morning, unfortunately, doesn’t bring answers. You’re not sure how to approach Chan other than to ask for time to process your feelings. That seems like as good a place to start as any because it’s a lot to take in. He must know that. Surely he’ll understand. Even though you seemingly accepted the news yesterday, it’s a new day today. And your brain is fighting to catch up. 

You’re trying to figure out how to approach the conversation with Chan when you make your way through the apartment. A piece of paper by your front door catches your eye and you approach it. You pick up the envelope and recognize the writing on the front of it as Chan’s. There’s something so impossibly him about the gesture. Of course he would write a letter instead of…wait. A moment too late, your brain catches up. Why would Chan be writing you a letter? What changed?

Opening the letter feels close to the last thing you want to do. But, you know that you need to just open it to see what’s going on. See if anything changes. 

A lot can change overnight, it seems. Chan fills the letter with apologies for things you can’t even begin to understand. He’s apologizing to you and also to Amphitrite. It seems he got to the conclusion much faster than you, which shouldn’t be surprising. He’s had centuries, apparently, to learn and to spot things others may never notice. That’s especially clear as you read through his letter, now. 

Getting past the general apologies, you find more specific apologies. He’s incredibly sorry, but he’s going to be leaving for a while. He knows that it’s not fair to you, but it’s something that he’s got to do. At least he acknowledges that it should ultimately be your decision on how to proceed with the relationship. He can’t let you do that without more answers to his questions. He needs to know how it’s possible for Amphitrite’s soul to have found its way into your body. He needs to understand what that means for your own mortality. It’s selfish, he admits, so incredibly selfish, but he can’t move forward with you, even if that’s what you want, without knowing more. He can’t watch as you age and he doesn’t. Can’t grow to love you more and more only to know you have an expiration date. It’s cold, he knows, to say it that way. It’s also the way he’s going to approach it. The whole letter is filled with apologies and acknowledgements followed by buts. 

Chan goes on to say that he’s going looking for his brother, Zeus. He’s the only one that might be able to help them understand what’s happening. The problem is that he hasn’t seen his brother in centuries and doesn’t entirely know how to find him, or if he’s even still surviving. He just has to trust that he’s out there somewhere, going through the same motions as Chan and chugging forward in the only way either of them know how. Somehow this tidbit is a lot to process. Accepting the existence of Poseidon was easy. Maybe that’s because of your own past. Accepting Zeus is something else entirely. Some of that stems from your own disbelief. Most seems to come from Amphitrite’s complicated feelings about her brother-in-law.

Just as you’re about to put the letter down in frustration, you see the postscript. Chan asks you to help his staff look after the aquarium until he returns. He knows that it’s not fair to ask. He knows you may even say no. Your heart tightens at the thought of the animals without Chan. Now that you know who he is, you know that they’ll miss him when he’s not around. You don’t have powers the way he does, though. And it’s his choice to just leave on a whim to chase answers for a relationship that may not even be there when he returns. 

Well, two can play this game, you think. It may not be a fully rational thought. It may not even be fair. Before you can overthink it, you send a text to Soonyoung saying that you’ll be out of town for the next few weeks, at least. You just tell him that you have some things to work through and leave it at that. In the meantime, you throw things haphazardly into a suitcase and you’re out the door before even getting a response.

Your letter from Chan stays sitting on your table as you rush out of the apartment without a second thought. All you know is that you’re going to let Amphitrite guide you on a journey of your own to find missing memories before you make any more decisions. 

It seems like both of you have a lot to figure out before you see each other next.

[bilolli]

Just Dance Care AU!

Ok ok so I thought of a story for this Au but it’s nothing really impactful or full of drama and angst like my other au’s, I wanted to leave this au easy and fun to play around, because, let’s say it. Just Dance and drama in the same sentence makes me laugh. 

story and PNG version under the cut!

(I gave up on Y/n design because I couldn't figure out a general look for them. This is you we are talking about! Draw your own JD fit, I'll draw mine soon XD)

Anyway here’s the story so far: 

Year 2029, videogames industry made a huge step forward and classic consoles and devices were substituted by the new and upgraded VR headsets with full body tracking. It’s something like the NerveGear in Sword Art Online without the kill switch. Some games still require you to actually move your body (like fitness games or sports because yeah, they don’t have a purpose otherwise). 

Y/n wanted to buy the newest VR headset but, while searching for the best offer, they found out FazCo entertainment was hosting a giveaway, the prize? One of their prototypes, a VR meant to be released the next year coinciding with the opening of their first mega pizza plex.

(so the plex doesn’t exist right now). You decide to sign up for the giveaway and after a while you receive an email telling you you won the VR headset and that, to claim it, you need to read and sign a series of NDA policies (understandable, it’s a prototype headset that’s not even in commerce). Some clauses are a little bit concerning but nothing you hadn’t read on other electronics booklets, so you decide to sign. After, like, a day, you have the VR in your hands. 

The box let you know with super saturated and colorful writing, that the VR came with a game pre-installed inside. Uh, that’s why they were giving one away, they wanted a free game tester…but you know what, it’s worth it.

You always liked Just Dance games, they make you think about happy memories of your childhood. This pre-installed game called “Five Dances at Freddy’s” is a close copy of your childhood game with original FazCo songs, characters, environments and also some collaborations with other famous artists. It probably will be the cause of a big copyright infringement report.

There are various ways to play it: story mode, Casual dance, Five Dances, and Just Dance Care.

The first one is similar to the casual dance mode but with little cutscenes between a dance and another to tell a tale, Casual dance is how you can play the collab songs, Five Dances is the multiplayer mode and Just Dance Care is a more uhhhh “hard” way to play the game with all the other modes mixed in it. You stare at the description of the last mode smirking and decide to try it first just to see how far you can get before losing (yes you can lose in hard mode in this Just Dance, but you don’t die, you just have to restart from the beginning). Turns out the FazCo wasn’t kidding when they advertised the new headset as a breakthrough in the world of virtual reality headsets, the thing TRANSPORTED you inside the game itself. 

You almost have a heart attack when you can’t find your VR on your head, but before you can try something you are blocked by two tall individuals who you think are the “tutorial” characters. 

Yadda yadda, tutorial, you can pause the game and exit whenever you need just by opening an hidden menu, you find out your tutorial characters are called Sun and Moon and that you are way worse than you remembered at dancing (damn full body tracking, there is no way you are going to do a cartwheel in the middle of a dance, you still don’t know if your body is inside your home and if you’ll physically feel pain if you fall and you don’t want to find out).

You pass an embarrassingly long time trying to win your first dance battle just to discover it was still the tutorial. 

You try to go on with the story but you fail at the first real battle with a bear character named Freddy. 

And guess what? You have to start again from the tutorial! Y/n is gonna spend A LOT of time with Sun and Moon if this goes on.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous |

Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[ravenelyx]

Hello! Do you take requests? If so I have oke for you :)

It’s similar to the recent one about Sebastian hugging the reader. Could it be with Omi this time?

I love your writings, btw.

I absolutely can !!! And thank you so much ♡♡

Let me in. - Ominis Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Fem!Reader

Words: 1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, angst and comfort, Ominis is touch-starved, Ominis is insecure, neck kissing, fuck the Gaunt family all my homies hate the Gaunt family, we all know Omi's past, cuddling and snuggling, House is not specified, (implied) established relationship

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never learned how to love. But he has you, and you're willing to teach him.

A/N: I hope you like this!! I followed a different tangent than Sebastian's.

Masterlist

you can find the whole fic here on ao3 as well

Sebastian's version

He wishes love were easy.

But nothing had ever been easy in Ominis Gaunt's life.

When he opened his heart to her, he opened something deep. A Pandora box of sorrow and grief and everything he'd buried so deep he'd forgotten about it.

Unfortunately, his body never forgets. It shows when she takes his hand. It unleashes when she brushes his hair. That gnawing, scorching flame burning where her touch remains.

She asks him how he's doing, he doesn't answer, words trapped behind his teeth like in a prison of jelly and guilt. He thinks she doesn't really want to be bothered by his problems.

She takes his hand while walking, he moves it away, clutching it to his chest in an attempt to build back that armor she threatens to break every time.

"Ominis," she speaks quietly in the night, when he keeps her always at an arm's distance. "Please, come here."

He wants to cry.

"I don't know how."

The smell of her hair lingers on the pillow when she leaves, and he quietly brings it to him, burying his face in the softness of her girly perfume. Even then, he feels too much freedom; taking up a space that isn't his own. He turns his back to it.

She seems tired today.

"Ominis." Her voice is weary, sad. She's near the fireplace, brooding. He feels like he's done something wrong.

"What is it?"

He balks before approaching her, his voice coming out in a sycophantic squeak that makes his blood run cold. He is afraid: afraid she'll find him some day. That she'll offer her hand and he'll take it with no qualms, allowing her to pull him up, away from those doubts cramming his mind when she gets too close.

"Why do you never let me in?"

He's drowning.

Why? Why? The answer is immediate, pulled right from his brain by that tight awareness that has always been more of a curse than a blessing. Because Ominis Gaunt feels that he is phrogging in other people's existence until they get tired and throw him into the nearest garbage. Because he has never found a place where he could sit down, wind his legs and feel at peace. Because if one day someone finds him with his defenses down, when he hits the bottom of the bin headfirst, he will never forgive himself.

"I don't know how." His inveterate answer comes, drawing a sigh from her. She always drops the subject after, and he feels safe.

This time, she breaches the armor again, and he has got no time to glue it back.

"Come here."

His hands tremble when he follows, sitting down next to her. She opens her palm to him and he feels it on his leg.

"Take it."

Her fingers feel soft to the touch, slipping between his as if filling up a space in his heart he had missed, pushing back his doubts and making a home for itself. He holds her hand and runs his thumb on her knuckles.

"What does this mean?" He asks feebly.

"That you can do much more."

He feels the corner of his lips push down in a grimace. "I don't know h—"

"I'll show you."

Her movements are languid and elegant like a snake, and he feels like she might strangle him and cut his breath and leave him for dead. But he wants to keep holding her hand.

"What do I do?"

"Come here."

This time, he listens.

She lets him move first, wrap his arms around her, as if testing her shape. He runs his hands over her delicate ribs, then down to the soft curve of her waist, then around her; feels the weight in his arms, like she could crush him at any moment. But she doesn't.

She lets him pull her on him, giving him her body. His hands are shaking and he feels inadequate to hold her; to keep her safe and not let her fall.

"Just do what feels right," she whispers.

None of this feels right. But it feels comfortable, and it feels different, and it feels like his heart is slowing down and his weight is meeting the ground and pushing against it like he will never need to get up anymore.

And there are her lips. He feels them with his fingertips; the curve at the top, the soft flesh, the sticky texture of her lipstick. He brings his trembling mouth to hers for the first time and pulls away just as quickly.

"I'm sorry…" he almost cries again.

"Do it again."

He swallows and pushes his lips against hers. He doesn't have the courage to move and breathes against her mouth.

She giggles and his heart breaks, because of course he was doing it wrong. "I'm sorr—"

Her mouth moves against his, takes his bottom lip in a quick suckle and then frees it again. He holds his breath until he can't stay still anymore.

"How does that feel?" she asks.

"More…"

Something inside him cracks open at her taste, pushes and pulls and crushes him, and he holds on to her. It's all too much and it's all not enough. He licks his lips and tastes her lipstick and he wishes he could see her.

When she cups his cheek, he flinches.

"This feels…"

Horrible. Good. Terrifying. Perfect. Different.

"We can go slow," she says, and it's more than he could ask for. "But I'm here, and I'm yours."

He nods and attempts to find her, and he presses his forehead against her collarbone. She's warm there.

"Thank you," He's crying against her skin, and she skims her hand against his back.

He feels naked, a brush of cold hair against his chest where his defenses have cracked. She's pulling his armor down with a gentle touch, and he lets her until he hears it hit the ground loudly.

"You can relax now." He thinks he hears her say. Perhaps it was a dream. And when he hesitantly brushes his lips against her skin, he allows her in.

[myownwholewildworld]

14. IT'S GETTING DARK IN THIS HEART OF MINE

chapter 13 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 15 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: dealing with the aftermath of tommy's actions has you and joel in a dark headspace. in your way to Boston QZ, you find a small gated community that looks so promising... and meet the man behind the creation of such oasis. a/n: this chapter is charged with angst as both you and joel come to terms with what has happened. it's a bit sad but also joel is very caring so i hope that makes it slighty better? also slightly sad about the fact that next chapter is the last (before the epilogue), this is drawing to and end t.t as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, and if you do all three, i'll treasure you forever. take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. angst. discussion of a miscarriage. joel being the partner we all deserve. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  tommy's pov at the beginning, then joel’s and reader’s pov. also there's a very special guest appearance towards the end 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.6k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“They should have been back by now,” Tommy paced in the hallway, unable to quiet down the intrusive thoughts.

A supply run shouldn’t have taken more than two hours, and Laney and the rest of the group had been gone for almost three now. They could have run into trouble, but they would have asked for backup on the transceiver.

Thinking back on it, Tommy was not so sure now that they had actually gone supply hunting. They had ventured into town only two days ago, which meant they were not in dire need of anything. With clickers everywhere, it was too risky to leave the safehouses when it wasn’t really necessary.

The nagging doubt that had been lingering for the same amount of time returned to tear his brain apart. Laney seemed to have left in a hurry, deciding there and then that a supply run was needed. A thought had crossed his mind as he saw her leave through the door, but had forced himself to drown it ― Laney wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t go find his brother without him.

Or would she? The venom her tongue distilled when Tommy mentioned you should have been a red flag, but given Laney’s snappy personality, it hadn’t been out of character. But in retrospect, Tommy started wondering if Laney had actually decided to track Joel and you down.

The idea tightened his throat ― he knew what Laney was capable of. But she wouldn’t ― she knew Tommy cared for the both of you. Tommy had shared so much with her, opened up about his past and new life, he thought she wouldn’t do anything that would hurt him. Perhaps it wasn’t love, but it was damn close. At least for him it was.

“It is unlike them,” Robert chipped in, scratching his beard.

“Maybe they have hit the jackpot and that’s why they’re running late,” Elijah added to the conversation. “Just give ‘em ten more minutes.”

And for ten minutes, Tommy kept on pacing around the enclosed space, watching his wristwatch eagerly. The moment the hands indicated ten minutes had gone by, he grabbed the keys.

“We have to go now. If we wait any longer and it snows, the tyre tracks will be covered,” he commanded, and the two men quickly followed.

They jumped into the Jeep, following the fresh treads on the snow. Soon Tommy realised that whatever path they had taken, it wasn’t the usual one into town, but the one that circumvented the river.

His heart skipped a few beats, fearing that his first instinct might have been correct. And if it was, he just hoped that Laney never caught up with his brother and you, for your own sake.

If something had happened to Joel or you because of who he chose to trust, Tommy would never forgive himself. When he had answered Laney’s question earlier that day, he hadn’t thought she would do anything with the information given. Mainly because he hadn’t asked her to. Laney respected him ― or so would he like to believe.

Despite his early departure, he didn’t want to leave Joel and you behind, not when he had just found you again. Sure, he had been a prick reacting the way he did, but fear to the unknown―you, alive and pregnant―had momentarily won. Now that he had a cooler head, Tommy knew he had been stupid to ditch you again. Instead of congratulating you both, he had pulled back and pointed his gun at you.

What a dick, he mentally reprimanded himself.

Even if Tommy hadn’t expressed it out loud, deep inside he was happy that his brother had had a fresh start with you. Losing Sarah had almost killed him, annihilated him from his own humanity, crushed him until there was nothing left of him. And thanks to you, who had breathed life into Joel even when the older Miller didn’t want you to, his older brother had slowly but steadily resurfaced. Joel wasn’t completely back to being his old self but was learning to with your help.

And now he had another chance at life, at having the family Joel always dreamed of and talked about. One, Tommy hoped, he hadn’t fucking ruined.

The engine wheezed after a sharp turn, the dam and the red-bricked building he knew like the palm of his hand coming into sight.

And just by the fence, there were five bodies lying on the floor.

With his heart climbing up his throat, Tommy braked suddenly, stopping a few yards away. Yanked the driver’s door open and jumped outside of the vehicle, quickly followed by Robert and Elijah.

Tommy unholstered his Glock, alert of his surroundings.

Please don’t let it be my brother or her, please don’t. Lord, please, if You’re still listening…

The cacophony of prayers repeated in his head in a sick loop, the desperation in them increasing with each step he took.

The moment they got close enough, Tommy swiftly recognised everyone. Laney and the rest of the group were sprawled on the snow, thick blood pooling underneath them. But neither of you were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes lingered on Laney’s body ― her eyes still open, observing the darkening sky above. A bullet perfectly buried between her brows, a trickle of blood running down her nose bridge and left cheek.

Even through the stinging sense of betrayal, Tommy grieved her death. She had kept him company when he felt lost, being the only shoulder he had relied on for the past few weeks. Despite their toxic relationship and never-ending fights over nonsense, Tommy had thought he could have a future with her.

That future had been cut short. And he couldn’t blame the hand that had killed Laney, whether that was Joel or you.

“Those motherfuckers,” Robert snarled. “They’ve done a proper number on Michael, his head is cracked open.”

While Elijah replied, Tommy’s solely focus was a sixth puddle of blood a few feet away from Laney. Smaller, the blood thicker and darker than what he had seen before. His pulse hastened wildly as his brain worked out all possibilities.

One of you was hurt. How badly, he didn’t know. He could only hope it was a milder injury, something easy to tend to and heal.

“We need to go after them. They must’ve taken the car with them,” Elijah trudged forward, the top of his boot brushing a fresher set of tyre tracks. “Looks like they went back south.”

“Let’s hurry then. Those bastards gotta pay for what they’ve done!”

Both men were fuming, irate even. And probably he should have been too, but his relief was much greater than his non-existent anger.

“Tommy, let’s go, move!”

Tommy’s eyes finally lifted from the pool of blood he had been eyeing too intently and settled on the backs of the men as they made their way back to the car.

Robert and Elijah wouldn’t rest until their friends were avenged. And knowing he had done more harm than good, Tommy couldn’t let that happen. He needed to make sure that both you and Joel would be safe from men like them ― like him.

His hand gripped the gun tighter as his finger slid to the trigger. Then shot twice consecutively, both men falling face-first onto the ground, while his heart pounded madly in his chest.

This was the only thing he could do for the both of you. The only good thing he would ever do for you.

At that exact moment, Tommy knew that there would be no redemption for his wicked soul if something bad and irreversible had happened to either of you. He could only hope that the two of you were okay.

The three of them, he corrected himself, fear taking hold of his being.

At some point during the car drive, you cried yourself to sleep. Exhaustion danced with your grief ― the sensation of impending doom clinging close to your heart. Perhaps if you closed your eyes, you would wake up from this nightmare and the dull ache blanketing your heart and numbing your mind would fade. Only if you were lucky.

But you weren’t. The moment you awakened, Joel carrying you somewhere, the full force of reality hit you again, the scarlet stain on your jeans a sorrowful reminder of what had happened. Tears held onto your lashes, threatening to freefall onto your already-drenched coat.

This couldn’t be ― the pain swallowing you whole like a shadow monster, its sharp teeth gnawing at you while you silently screamed in the void of your mind. Where your heart had been, there was a hole nothing could fill. It felt like the twisted arms of destiny had reached inside you and stole your happiness, leaving behind a hollowing darkness.

And despite the edges of the sinkhole in your chest cracking even further apart, there was also this cold, drowning lump you couldn’t shake the feeling of. It constricted your throat, to the point you were gasping for a gulp of air. Then your airways expanded suddenly, the knot dissolving and letting oxygen in, only to wail in the midst of the night.

Trembling in Joel’s arms, he hugged you tighter to his chest, the warmth pouring from him soothing the coldness your heart harboured.

“We’re almost there, baby,” Joel whispered, his lips pressing your forehead.

Wherever there was, you wanted to arrive somewhere safe where you could open the dams of hell and let pain take its course. Because holding all of this inside would drive you mad with woe.

Soon enough he placed you down on a soft surface. It took you a second to notice the walls around you ― it was a small living room, crowded with someone’s belongings. The ceiling was low, big wooden rafters holding it up above your heads. In any other circumstances, the place would have been a cozy getaway.

You crouched on the couch, hugging your knees with devoid eyes transfixed nowhere in particular. Perhaps, if you held your knees close enough to your chest, you would stop the pieces of you from falling all apart.

Joel squatted in front of you, your glassy orbs darting to his sad ones. They told you a story �� a life of loss, of grief. He didn’t need to say words for you to understand how much this hurt him too. And knowing you were not alone in your pain gave you some selfish relief, but it also added to your own sorrow.

Unwrapping one arm, your hand found his cheek, your thumb tracing a line on the bag under his eye. Swept away the lone tear clinging to his skin, feeling it like your own. Then he nuzzled against your palm, a second later kissing it and taking it between his hands.

“I love you,” he reminded you, a broken whisper that glued together some shattered pieces of your soul. “Whatever you need of me, I’ll do. I can give you space to be on your own or be by your side for however long you need me. Please, tell me.”

Your heart bled for your unborn child, but also for yourself and Joel. Even though the news had shocked you both first, the idea of raising a little one together had gotten you even closer. And despite the hardships, you did not want to let that go, let him go ― your connection to him, the yin to your yang, the yang to your yin.

So you pulled from the hands holding yours, silently asking him to join you on the couch. His steadfast presence filled the empty spot on the sofa, and he dragged you to the calmness between his arms. One hand on your crown, the other gently pressed on the small of your back.

No words were needed to be shared, silence speaking louder. Time was a haze, blurry on the edges, while you held each other. You would cry and Joel would eventually follow, your shared sorrow a reminder of why you should keep fighting ― together. Because no matter what had happened, you both would survive this. It seemed distant now, almost ethereal and unachievable, but the world you lived in wouldn’t let you sink in the pits of despair for long. Of that much you were sure.

When you calmed down a little, your eyes dried of tears, you looked up at Joel, your cheek nuzzled on his chest. His dull, chocolate eyes were clouded, and you knew his mind had taken him somewhere away from reality.

Now you somewhat understood how he felt, the sense of helplessness so paralyzing. You didn’t even dare to imagine how this loss would feel if you had spent years knowing and caring for a child ― devastating, agonising. And having to go through all of that, just because you appealed to his humanity―his love for family―, made you feel sick.

You should have listened when he was reluctant about finding Tommy. Perhaps if you hadn’t pushed, your reality would be very different now. But wanting to see the good side of people was innate to you, so you had convinced him to try and reunite with his brother.

Big mistake.

“I’m sorry,” you let out in a choked whisper.

Joel’s eyes regained part of their usual spark, quickly drifting down to you with a confused look.

“Why?” he asked, his thumb finding your cheek and drawing a delicate line on your skin.

“I shouldn’t have insisted on tracking Tommy down. I should have―”

“Don’t. This ain’t your fault, sweetheart. I know you meant well. This isn’t on you nor me,” his voice cracked a little. “This is on Tommy, on men like him. So fucking desperate to belong, he didn’t even consider us as family anymore.” He paused and you felt his inner struggle, the words clinging to the tip of his tongue like a raindrop teetering on the brink of a leaf. “He’s dead to me.”

His raw admission brought tears to your eyes again. You couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for this outcome ― Joel had no blood family left.

Joel cradled your cheek, so your averted orbs met his.

“And that is not your fault either, do you understand me?”

“But―”

“No, baby. This was a long time coming. Ever since we arrived at Chicago, deep down I knew I had already lost him. God knows I tried to redirect him, to help him, we both did. But wouldn’t fucking listen to either of us. What he has done now, hurting you― hurting us like this, it’s the last straw,” Joel drew in a big breath, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “He may not have been the hand who… who murdered our child, but he was the instigator. I just can’t bel―” Joel paused when he heard your low sob and his body shifted slightly under you. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you. You’ve gotten enough to deal with.”

You shook your head no, your fingers wrapping around the wrist that held your face.

“You’re entitled to your feelings, Joel. I understand your rage. Believe me, I really do. I just don’t think I have it in me right now to feel anything else other than…” you trailed off, unsure of how to categorise the storm brewing inside you, “other than this gripping sadness,” admitting such thing out loud just made it even more real. “But I don’t want you to bottle up how you feel, so please don’t do it for my sake.”

He didn’t reply straight away, so in awe with you it warmed up a little the bitter cold nipping at your bones.

“Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true, too good for me,” Joel mumbled in a hum, pressing his lips on your forehead.

Even through the tears, through the pain, you smiled albeit weakly. Because it didn’t matter how dark it was getting in this heart of yours, Joel was able to shine a ray of light even during the darkest of times.

“I love you,” you muttered, hugging him tight.

Silence settled again, comforting and somewhat healing, until Joel broke it.

“If you’re feeling a tiny bit better, I’d like to get you out of those clothes and into clean ones, darlin’. I don’t want you to catch a cold and…”

The blood was still there, he didn’t need to finish. A sudden remainder of the piercing ache in your lower belly, burning and dull at the same time. Your grief was so loud, so overwhelming, you had barely paid attention to how you felt physically. And now that you were heeding the pain, it started to creep up on you.

“That’s a good idea,” you managed, sitting back up on the couch, breaking the physical contact with him.

“I’ll only be a second, you won’t even realise I’m gone,” Joel promised, and you nodded.

Joel got up and scavenged through his backpack, grabbing a small tin box, and then darted to the door. Thirty seconds later he was back and down on his knees a few feet away from you. He set up the gas canister on the floor, lit it on the lowest setting, and placed the tin tray on top, the snow slowly melting.

He then knelt in front of you, undoing the knots of your boots and putting them down on the floor. His steady hands helped you stand up so Joel could unbutton your jeans, gently pulling them down along with your underwear, seemingly unbothered by the thick, now dried blood.

You swallowed at the sight, his kind reverence a soothing balm on your aching heart. Your gaze looked up to the ceiling in a vain attempt to keep your tears at bay. Joel guided you back to sit down on the couch and veered around to dunk a clean rag in the lukewarm water. Then his attention turned to you and swept your skin clean with tender strokes.

The whole moment was so intimate, so raw, it made you cry a little more, but you hid your glassy eyes from him, keeping them on the wooden rafters as if their carved lines drove you somewhere far away from this heartbreaking moment.

Soon enough, Joel was done and shuffled through your rucksack to get a change of clothing. He slid your feet through the holes in the fresh panties lined with one of the few pads you had left, pushed them up to your knees, and repeated the same process with the clean trousers.

Only when he helped you get up to pull the clothes up to your hips, did he realise you were quietly sobbing again.

He buttoned your trousers for you, then cradled your face and kissed your tears goodbye.

It truly broke his heart seeing you like this. Knowing what you both could have had, but now didn’t. The ache only grew louder, having lost yet another soul to the misdeeds of mankind.

But when a lifetime of loss would have seemed daunting, holding you close to his chest reminded him of the reasons he would carry on. Broken and hollow, but he would keep going ― for you, but also for himself.

Joel hugged you on the sofa, hoping you would find some solace in his embrace. You had slowly drifted away to your dreams ― or so he hoped that they were not nightmares.

Suddenly you stirred, a quiet sob breaking through your chest, and he held you tighter. You blinked half awake, clutching at your chest. His lips hovered over your temple, whispering calming words until you settled back into a state of hypnagogia.

“We’ve got holes, but we carry on,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Hours went by, dawn breaking on the horizon, its orange and crimson lights filtering through the only window in the tiny cabin. Joel rubbed your back until your eyes fluttered open ― sleepy until reality knocked at your door. Your features folded slightly, and he knew you were trying your best to hold it together.

“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” he apologised, sitting up on the sofa with you in his arms. “It’s been a few hours, you should take another painkiller. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

You nodded with a heavy sigh when he got up to reach for the water bottle and the pills, offering them to you.

As you swallowed, Joel knew that his need for revenge paled in comparison to his need to care for you. As much as he wanted to go back and put a bullet in Tommy’s skull and whoever else remained from Laney’s group, he knew he couldn’t drag you into that. Wouldn’t put you through hell again. He meant it when he said that Tommy was dead to him ― you were his utmost priority, would always be.

As if you could read his mind, you looked at him askance as you placed the empty bottle on the coffee table in front.

“So… where…?”

“We go eastwards. We are only a couple of hours away from Boston. There’s a QZ there and although I’m not planning to get close, it might be handy having that place to run to if at some point shit hits the fan. I just don’t think that being out here completely on our own is a good idea right now,” he ventured, stroking your knee.

You slowly nodded, understanding he was trying to get you to safety and nowhere near Tommy.

“Sounds good,” you replied, unknowingly scratching your forearm.

Joel extended one hand and rolled up your sleeve. The wound was no longer bleeding and had completely healed. The scar had started fading a bit, the teeth marks were not so obvious anymore. The skin looked ragged and torn, sensitive to touch and itchy.

He bowed down to kiss the scar, his lips trailing the tissue, hoping it would calm the itch. Then sat back up to brush your lips with his.

“Are you sure? Otherwise, we can stay here a little longer―”

“No, I think you’re right,” you cut him off, a feeble smile dancing on your mouth. “It’s a good idea.”

Joel slowly nodded.

“Alright then, let me pack everything up and we’ll be in our way.”

A few hours later, when you were only half an hour away from Boston, the fuel indicator lit up on the dashboard. Your eyes had been glued to the world outside the passenger’s window, the last sign indicating that you just had crossed the boundary of Lincoln, Massachusetts.

“We’re running low in gas. Should stop and see if we can find some, or a different car. Or perhaps a place to stay for the time being, we’re close enough to Boston,” Joel said, removing the keys and the engine dying out.

He had veered into the verge, coming to a half between some evergreen bushes and trees.

“I also need to… to change,” you whispered, feeling the pad soaked with blood.

Joel eyed you, understanding. “We’ll find somewhere quiet too then.”

You zipped up your coat and joined him in the snow, backpack on your shoulders. Joel took your hand in his and walked along the side of the road. The houses were far apart from each other, just a few buildings here and there. But every car you both checked either had an empty tank or was unusable ― it seemed like the people from Boston had already ransacked everything in Lincoln.

A few more yards down the round found you in front of a fence.

“That’s weird,” Joel said, his lips twitching with worry.

“What is?” you asked, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Do you hear that?” he quieted down for a second.

Then you heard it: electricity humming.

“Is the fence electrified?” your brows furrowed deeper with your own question.

“Yeah,” Joel whispered, his free hand wrapping around the grip of his gun. “Seems like someone’s made home of these houses.”

You ventured a peek through the fence. It was a small cluster of houses, as if it was a gated community. But there was no one in the street, deserted as the rest of the town.

“Turn around and leave now. Don’t make me shoot,” someone suddenly shouted.

Joel quickly pushed you behind him, gun withdrew. Your heart rushed with the danger you had not seen yet.

Glancing over Joel’s shoulder, you saw another man quite a few feet away on the other side of the fence. He was smaller than Joel, a baseball cap shielding his face. He had a prominent beard and a sturdy build. From what you could guess, he would be in his early forties.

“I won’t say it again. Get the fuck out of here or I’ll kill you both,” the man advanced a few feet, a riffle pointing towards you both.

“Joel, let’s go before he changes his mind and starts shooting,” you pressed him.

Joel looked over his shoulder at you.

“But he may be able to help us. This looks to be well guarded, he’s even got cameras in the perimeter,” he pointed towards one of them in the fence. “Let me talk to him.”

“You sure about this?” you muttered, unsure about how the man would react if asked to let you in. Joel gave you a nod. “Alright, yeah.”

Joel sheathed his gun and raised his hands, facing the man.

“We mean no trouble, sir. We are only looking for a safe place to spend the night,” he appealed.

“I ain’t sharing shit with you two. Get lost,” the man barked back, looking through the peephole of his riffle.

“I swear to God we just want somewhere to sleep for a bit. My partner and I need to rest, and with so many motherfuckers out there, I’m just not sure we can fend them all off on our own. Just one night, that’s all we’re asking.”

Joel was really trying to reason with him, but you could see he was not getting through. And as the back and forth continued between the two men, an idea came to mind. It would mean being vulnerable with someone you didn’t know if you could trust, but if it meant getting off the streets and getting some rest…

“Sir,” you stepped to one side, hands visible so the man would see you had no gun. “Please, this is Joel,” then you introduced yourself. “We’ve just been through the fucking wringer. I had a miscarriage yesterday and I am about to bleed through my fucking jeans,” the words came out choked, and Joel quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, his presence a much-needed reassurance. “I just want somewhere where I can clean myself, change, cry my fucking eyes out and perhaps get a couple of hours of sleep. That’s all we’re asking. Please.”

You were barely able to keep the tears at bay, but you did, albeit with trembling lips. You leaned on Joel for support, and he held you tight to his side. Your eyes were fixed on the other man across the fence, who had gotten a few yards closer now.

He deliberated for two long minutes until he finally put his riffle down.

“Okay. One night and then you’re out,” you sighed with relief, the prospect of some comfort very soothing. “Let me open the gate.”

He reached towards his back and pressed some buttons on a control. A few yards to your right, a screeching noise announced the gate opening.

Joel and you walked towards it, and the moment you were in, the man pressed another button, and the gate closed behind you.

“I’ll need your guns. And knives. Whatever you have, I’ll return it to you tomorrow when you’re on your way,” the stranger rasped.

There was something about him that made you trust him. He seemed to be a good man, although a bit of a crazy prepper with all this technology.

Both of you handed everything to him, except for the hunting knife that Joel kept in his boot. You both knew better than trusting someone blindly.

“I’ll show you to where you can stay tonight,” he motioned his hand forward and both of you followed. “Name’s Bill, by the way.”

“Thank you, Bill,” Joel and you said in unison.

“Do you have something warm to drink?” you asked Bill as you came down the stairs.

He and Joel were waiting in the landing, the tension between both men could be cut with a knife. You could bet that they had not spoken one single word since you were gone to freshen up.

Bill cleared his throat, then grunted a husky “yes” and trudged towards what you assumed was the kitchen.

Joel took your hand in his and walked with you, his movements rigid, uneasy.

“Got tea, coffee, soup.”

For a moment you were overwhelmed with the choices. This man had more commodities than anyone else you had met so far. The house was tidy and warm, clean. He had running hot water, something you had not come across since leaving Chicago. Damn, he even had fucking pads to offer you.

“I’d kill for a black coffee right now,” you admitted, slightly excited with the idea.

Bill’s blue eyes darted to Joel.

“Same thing,” he replied succinctly as you both settled on a couple of chairs around a table. He then turned to you and whispered, “how are you?”

Joel probably had noticed your reddened eyes from crying under the hot stream of water.

“Better. Had a hot shower and took the last painkiller,” you replied in a hush.

“I’ve got some ibuprofen,” Bill said out of nowhere. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, you guys whisper too fucking loud.”

His retort made you smile feebly. Bill reminded you of a cat you had when you were a kid ― the little beast would hiss when approached, snarl like a demon even, but once it knew you, it would not stop purring and asking to be petted. His body language spoke loudly for him ― stiff, almost robotic, as if he had forgotten how to be around other humans. You could tell he was extremely reticent and wary of you, as he should be ― for all he knew, you could be the reincarnation of Bonnie and Clyde. But Bill had this charm about him, as if he couldn’t help himself but offer you some hospitality.

“I mean, if you could give me some before we leave tomorrow, I’d greatly appreciate it, Bill.”

Bill just hmphed before returning his attention to the pot. Soon enough, the air smelled like freshly brewed coffee, and he handed you each a steaming mug. You inhaled the aroma, your eyes closing with delight, before taking a sip.

Bill settled on a chair opposite you, his eyes moving from you to Joel, then back at you. You were sure he was studying you, deciding if you were worth of his reluctant kindness. You wondered how many people he had found stranded at his gate ― had he ever open them to anyone? It didn’t look like it.

“You heading to Boston QZ?”

“Not sure we want to venture that far in. Our idea was to stay in the area until we decide what to do,” Joel explained, holding the mug close to his mouth.

“It’s not the best place, the people I have crossed paths with…” Bill shrugged. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, we come from Texas. Joel’s from Austin, I come from Houston,” you said before sipping again, the hot liquid burning the tip of your tongue.

“That’s a long fucking way from home,” Bill noted with a frown.

“Tell us about it. It feels like we’ve spent a lifetime on the roads.”

“Bet you do.”

“What about you? Are there any other people here living with you?” you asked curiously, sipping away.

Bill took a moment to reply, his thick brows knitting together.

“It’s only me,” he finally said. “Don’t like company if I can help it.”

You hummed in agreement. “Can’t blame ya. There are monsters out there, and I’m not talking clickers…” you voice eventually died out, remembering the events of yesterday.

Joel squeezed your knee slightly, a reminder that he was still by your side and would always be. Bill must have understood where your mind had drifted off, because he stirred in his seat uncomfortably.

“If you don’t mind me chipping in… I hope those monsters are fucking dead. Doing something like that to someone― fucking hell, hope you’ve killed ‘em.”

“Most of them we have,” Joel said between gritted teeth, taking over the conversation when you fell silent. “Whoever remains, they were not following, if that’s what worries you.”

“Worries me? Nah. I’ve got a fucking arsenal here,” Bill chuckled then snorted, his taut façade momentarily falling before he pulled a composed, deadpan expression again. “Could kill them all before they even got within a mile of my town.”

Joel and you kept the small talk alive for a while, sharing some anecdotes here and there, to get Bill to open up a bit and build some rapport.

At some point he got up and cooked some food too, a proper meal that both of you devoured in under ten minutes. Then helped Bill cleaning up and had another coffee around the table, with a fire lit nearby in the chimney.

“You both go have some rest. I’ll keep watch tonight,” Bill offered when you stood up to retreat to your room upstairs. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

@hiroikegawa

[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.3🖤

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4332

Summary: Minho and you slowly find your way back together once he's released from the hospital. Minjun's birthday party brings you both closer than ever before ...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the first part especially🤭 I'll have a very busy day tomorrow, so you'll get the next part today already instead🤭🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You immediately take up the responsibility of caring for Minjun, ensuring that Minho has no worries as he recovers. You bring Minjun to your home and transform it into a safe haven for the little boy who is confused and missing his dad.

You set up a schedule that balances fun activities and quiet time, keeping Minjun engaged and content. Mornings are spent in the garden, where you teach him how to plant seeds and water flowers, explaining the nature of growth and the care plants need to thrive—a subtle lesson you hope he translates into understanding his father’s situation.

Minjun enthusiastically takes to gardening, his curious nature soaking up every detail you offer. He frequently asks questions, his large eyes wide with wonder as he watches little bugs crawling around and you tell him more about them. “Does Daddy need water and sun to get better, too?” he asks one day, his innocence tugging at your heartstrings.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. “Something like that, buddy. Your dad needs rest and a little bit of sunshine to regain his strength.”

During these days, Minjun often speaks of his father, his young mind trying to wrap around why his dad had to stay in the hospital. You assure him that his dad is getting stronger every day, and soon, they’ll be back to playing in the park and reading bedtime stories.

In the afternoons, you work on light educational activities like drawing and reading. Minjun loves to draw; his papers are filled with pictures of his garden and the plants and lots of drawings of him and his dad together, often with a big sun shining overhead. You send these drawings to Minho, who calls every evening to say goodnight, his voice always a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.

Each call becomes a little bridge, reconnecting the threads of the small family. Minho’s voice grows stronger each day, and his words begin to carry hope instead of just fatigue. He shares updates about his recovery, about the small victories of a full night’s sleep or a walk around the hospital ward without feeling dizzy.

One evening, as you and Minjun are setting up a board game in the living room, your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, and he’s calling a bit earlier than usual.

“Y/n, hey. I… I’m coming home tomorrow,” Minho’s voice is tentative, almost shy.

“That’s great news, Minho! Minjun will be so happy,” you respond, watching Minjun’s face light up at the mention of his dad.

“Can we… can I come over when I get back? I want to see Minjun, and I… I owe you a proper thank you,” Minho adds, his tone earnest.

“That's okay,” you assure him, feeling a complex knot of emotions at his return but happy for Minjun’s sake.

The next day is bright and sunny, and Minjun is practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Daddy coming now? Or now?” he asks every few minutes, peering out the window.

“Soon, little bug. Let’s go to the garden. We can show him how much everything has grown since he’s been gone,” you suggest, leading him outside.

You're both kneeling in the garden, Minjun excitedly pointing out each new sprout and blossom, when you hear the gate click. Looking up, you see Minho, thinner and a bit pale but smiling as he watches his son.

“Daddy!” Minjun screams, sprinting towards him with a speed that surprises both of you. Minho drops to his knees just in time to catch him, embracing him tightly. His eyes close as he buries his face in Minjun’s soft curls. 

“I missed you so much, buddy,” Minho murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Missed you more,” Minjun replies, his small hands cupping his face as he kisses his nose. 

You walk over slowly, giving them a moment, before Minho looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/nnie, thank you,” he says, standing up to face you. “It means a lot.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Minho. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you reply, your voice gentle.

“No, I need to say this,” Minho insists, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I took that for granted. I hope I can make it up to both of you somehow.”

“One step after the other. For now, you should rest; we can talk properly later,” you suggest, offering a smile that Minho returns gratefully.

Minho reaches into his pocket, and you can hear him pulling out his keys. He stretches out his hand almost timidly, offering you your spare keys to his home. “You're always welcome. If not for me, then for him, please. I don't want him to suffer just because I fucked up.”

You hesitantly take them, able to tell he's trying to fix things. “I…I'll think about it. I need time, Min.”

“That's okay,” he assures you. “Your replacement is shit, by the way,” he says with a weak grin. 

You chuckle softly. “No, that's you being used to someone handling things for you more than for the others,” you remind him. You inhale deeply and awkwardly rub your neck. “I'll also think about that, okay?” 

“Okay,” he nods, unable to hide the hope in his orbs at the mere chance of you coming back. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you assure him. “Me too…Now, go rest, please. Call if you need something.”

“Bye, Y/nnie,” Minjun says, hugging you tightly as you get down on his level. “Love you.”

You swallow softly, a similar surprise lacing both Minho's and your features. “I love you too, buddy,” you answer honestly and squeeze him gently. “Now go home with your daddy, yeah?”

-

The quiet of the morning was filled only by the faint sounds of the city waking up beyond the walls of the small, cozy room where Minho found himself slowly coming to consciousness. As his senses sharpened, the first thing he became aware of was the warm, small body pressed against his side. Gently turning his head, he sees Minjun, his little baby, sleeping peacefully next to him, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight fills Minho with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Minho wraps his arms around Minjun, pulling him close. The boy, still deep in his dreams, instinctively snuggles closer into his father's embrace. Even in sleep, Minjun seems to sense his father's need for closeness and comforts him with his mere presence.

Minho’s eyes trace the soft, youthful features of his son's face, noting the faint freckles that dust his nose and the gentle curl of his lips. Memories flood through Minho’s mind—the first time he held Minjun, the first steps he took, the first words he spoke.

Recovering from his incident, Minho was forced to confront his own vulnerabilities and the stark realization of how much he relied on the presence of his son. These mornings, waking up next to Minjun, were sacred. They were not just moments of physical rest but crucial for his emotional recovery as well. 

Minjun shifts in his sleep, a small sigh escaping him. His small hand grips Minho's shirt tightly as if, even in his dreams, he is determined to hold on. Minho’s heart aches with an overwhelming mix of joy and sorrow—joy for his son's presence and health and sorrow for the times he hadn’t been there as fully as he wanted.

“Daddy loves you, Minjun,” Minho whispers into his son's dark curls, his voice barely audible. A tear escapes the corner of his eye as he tightens his embrace, grateful beyond words for his return to health and the second chance it represented.

The sun begins to cast its first rays into the room, streaks of light that paint the walls with the colors of dawn. The light seems to coax the city to life gently, and as it does, it also seems to awaken Minjun. The little boy yawns and blinks open his eyes, surprised for a moment to find himself so close to his father.

“Daddy?” Minjun’s voice is sleepy and confused but also filled with an affection that comes from deep within.

“Good morning, buddy,” Minho says, his voice still thick with emotion. “Did you sleep well?”

Minjun nods, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yes.”

Minho smiles. “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to the park later?”

“Yeah!” Minjun’s face lights up with excitement. “And I can be a hero!”

Minho laughs, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. “Of course, my little superhero. But first, how about we make some pancakes for breakfast?”

Minjun’s agreement is instantaneous and enthusiastic. As they get up and make their way to the kitchen, Minho keeps his son close, his hand resting lightly on Minjun’s shoulder. Making breakfast together was a simple activity, yet it held so much meaning for Minho, just being home again. 

As Minho watches Minjun clumsily crack eggs and stir batter, he is filled with gratitude for his young son's resilience. He had managed to stay strong and loving throughout the difficulties they had faced.

“Daddy?” Minjun looks up at him, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Minho is taken aback, realizing that his emotional reflections must have shown on his face. He kneels down, bringing himself to eye level with Minjun, and smiles.

“I’m more than okay; I’m happy,” he assures his son, his hand gently cupping the boy’s cheek. “I’m just very thankful for you, Minjun. You’re my little hero, did you know that?”

Minjun giggles, the sound like music to Minho’s ears. “I’m your hero?”

“Yes, you are,” Minho assures him, hugging him tightly. “My biggest hero.”

Minjun hugs him back, his small arms strong and sure. “It’s okay, Daddy. I take care of you.”

The words, so earnest and sincere from such a young soul, fill Minho with an even deeper appreciation for his son and his eyes with tears. He realizes that while he was often the one taking care of Minjun, his son was also taking care of him in many ways, providing love, motivation, and a reason to recover fully and well.

One week later 

For Minjun's birthday, Minho decided on a cozy movie night—a welcome change from the usual buzz of birthday parties and perfectly suited for their small circle. The boys all love a good movie night, find children's movies hilarious, and, most importantly, they all love Minjun like their own. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows, they arrive one by one.

Chan and Felix arrive last with a special surprise for the birthday boy. “Jiho, mate, we brought someone with us,” Felix leans down to him conspiratorially. 

“Who?” he asks curiously, eyes growing wide. Chan steps aside and gently pulls you out of hiding. Minjun squeaks in delight, looking up at Minho excitedly. “Daddy, it's Y/nnie!” he says, jumping in place impatiently. 

Minho giggles and gently brushes back his curls. “Well, go say hi, dumpling.”

Minjun doesn't need a second invitation to fall into your arms. “Hey, little bug,” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he beams happily before moving on to greet the next guest. “Uncle Channie, up!” he says, reaching out for him. 

Chan smirks, lifts him up and throws him into the air above his head a little, catching him safely again. Minho flinches heavily, reaching for Minjun in shock. Felix laughs at him, gently patting his back. “Channie, babe, don't give him a heart attack.” 

Chan laughs, putting a giggling Minjun back on his feet. “Sorry, Min,” he chuckles, and Minho snorts. 

“Alright, come on in, you know the way,” Minho laughs.

The living room was transformed into a fortress of comfort. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor, creating a plush sea of soft fabrics that invited everyone to kick off their shoes and sink in. The air was rich with the aroma of popcorn and sweet treats that lined the table alongside a stack of Minjun’s favorite animated movies.

Minho watches as Felix and Jeongin set up the projector, their antics punctuated by light-hearted banter that fills the room with laughter. Hyunjin and Seungmin are tasked with stringing fairy lights around the room, adding a magical ambiance that makes the space feel like a small cinema hall. Jisung and Changbin, meanwhile, busy themselves in the kitchen, popping more popcorn and arranging a variety of snacks on platters. Minho watches his family with a smile, each member contributing to the evening’s success, weaving their love for Minjun into every detail.

The movie starts, the lights dimmed to mimic a theater, and the first frames flicker across the makeshift screen. Minjun sits between Minho and you, a perfect sandwich of his favorite people, his face lit by the soft glow of the projector as he watches with wide-eyed wonder.

Throughout the evening, the adults' eyes often meet over Minjun's head, shared smiles of affection and slight amusement at his captivated reactions to the on-screen adventures. During a particularly exciting scene, Minjun would sometimes stand, pointing at the screen and explaining to you loudly the many details of the plot as he understood them.

"The hero's gonna save everyone. He's strong like daddy!" Minjun's voice is full of pride and excitement, making everyone chuckle, especially Minho, whose heart swells with love and a bit of awe at his son's interpretation.

The room is filled with the sounds of the movie, mixed with Minjun's occasional commentary and the boys' gentle laughs.

Halfway through the second movie, Minjun’s eyelids begin to droop, and he leans more heavily against you, his small hand gripping yours as he fights the pull of sleep. You look down at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, touched by the trust and affection Minjun shows you.

Minho notices this gentle exchange, and his heart is filled with gratitude for your presence in Minjun’s life, especially during the times when he couldn’t be there himself. He makes a mental note to himself to ensure you know how much your support meant to him, perhaps later when the movies are done and the excitement of the day has settled into the quiet of the night.

As the evening winds down and the credits roll on the last movie, Minho gently nudges Minjun awake to blow out the candles on his small birthday cake. With a sleepy grin, Minjun makes a wish and blows with all his might, the room erupting into applause.

"Happy birthday, Minjun!" everyone cheers, making him giggle happily and hide in Minho’s arms shyly. 

Minho soothingly kisses his hair and cuddles him close. Your heart warms seeing them, and glancing around the room, you can tell how much Minho and his little boy mean to everyone. Minho looks almost as tired as Minjun, but both are beaming with happiness. The boys fall back into their usual chatter, and you more or less subtly watch Minho next to you with Minjun still in his arms. They're having a quiet conversation, Minjun resting his head against Minho's and holding onto his hands. You feel the old, familiar warmth spreading through you as you watch them. Getting into that fight with Minho had made you feel awful. You missed your time with Minjun and you realized how used you've grown to Minho's presence in your life. 

Minho's eyes find yours, and your breath hitches at the softness of his orbs. “Minjun's asking if you could read him a bedtime story?”

“Oh, of course,” you nod. 

“The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. You can get comfortable there; he loves cuddling in bed before,” he assures you kindly and watches you leave with Minjun. 

Chan nudges him gently. “You two are alright again?”

“We're working on it,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly. 

“We should wrap it up,” Chan chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly. 

“Yongbokie and you can have the guestroom upstairs. You'd get home way too late,” he tells him. Chan and Felix live the furthest away, after all. “Jisung and Hyunjin can have the sofa,” he laughs, seeing them already deep asleep there. 

Seungmin, listening in, pouts softly. “I'm tired, I don't want to leave.”

Minho glances at him and Innie, resting their heads on Changbin’s shoulders. “I can only offer you to sleep here with all the pillows and stuff.”

“Sounds great,” Jeongin mumbles drowsily. 

“Mhm, then that's settled,” Chan chuckles, soothingly rubbing Felix's shoulder as the younger one slowly grows heavy against him. “Should we clean up tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah, I'll do it once everyone's gone,” Minho laughs. 

“Lix and I can help,” he assures him, earning a thankful smile. 

About ten minutes later, once Minho made sure everyone had what they needed he made his way to his own bedroom, Chan next to him. “I forgot Lix gets cold easily,” he chuckles and carefully pushes the door open. He stops in his tracks, seeing you comfortably sprawled out on his bed, Minjun on your chest, and a book loosely in your hand. You're both asleep, looking peaceful and content. “Shit, I forgot about Y/nnie,” he curses quietly. 

“You can't really move him anywhere else, look at Minjun,” Chan giggles. 

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” he asks quietly, grabbing a fluffy blanket for Chan and Felix. 

“There's plenty of room next to them,” he says. 

“Chan. I can't just get into bed with my assistant,” he argues. 

“Your so-called assistant is hugging your son and asleep in your bed. I think you're way past that, mate,” he laughs. “It's your bed; just keep your distance or whatever.” Minho anxiously chews on his lower lip, debating a hundred different possibilities in his head. “Or you join me and Lix?”

“No, you two touchy fuckers can have that bed for your own,” he giggles, shoving his chest. “Not interested in a threesome right now.”

“Right now?” Chan teases, and Minho playfully raises his fist at him. “What about-”

“Go sleep, you're talking nonsense,” he laughs and gently shoves him outside. “Idiot.”

Chan giggles and gently shoves him back inside. “I'll hit you if you don't sleep in your own bed tonight. You still need rest, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans. 

Minho stares down at the scene before him, the weight of Chan's words sinking in. He watches you and Minjun, both deep in the tranquil sleep of the innocent and the cared-for, their faces peaceful and free from the burdens that Minho carried on his shoulders.

Gathering all his bravery, Minho slowly approaches the bed, his movements hesitant but deliberate. As he reaches the edge, he pauses, taking a moment to truly look at you—someone who has become so much more than just an assistant. You have been his support system, his son's caregiver, and his unintentional savior in times of unspoken despair. How could he continue to maintain a mere professional boundary when everything about your relationship had transcended those limits?

Minho carefully settles on the far edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The soft sounds of Minjun's and your breathing soothe his nerves. 

The room is silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sounds of the city. Minho turns his head slightly, watching Minjun snuggle closer to you in his sleep. The sight is both beautiful and a stark reminder of the intimate moments he had missed during his recovery.

After a few moments, you shift in your sleep, perhaps sensing the added presence or the slight dip in the mattress as Minho lay down. Your eyes flutter open, and in the dim light, your gaze meets Minho’s. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. “I can leave.”

“Don't,” Minho says quickly and swallows hard. “He's comfortable here with you; there's no need to leave.”

“You're sure?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Well, you should get comfortable as well. There's no need to hover over the edge of the bed.”

Those words, softly spoken, are like a key turning in a lock for Minho. They break through his last hesitations, sweeping away the remnants of his doubts. He shifts closer, reducing the distance between him and you, and allows himself to relax fully. You turn on your side to face him, your eyes locking with his in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, the words thick with emotions. “For everything.”

Your hand finds his under the blankets, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re past apologies, Minho. I fucked up because I took him without telling you. I didn't think and expected you to trust me; that wasn't fair. You overreacted…which is kind of understandable. I'm sorry for my part in this, and you're sorry for yours. We're okay.”

Minho feels a warmth spread through his chest. He nods, accepting your forgiveness, and turns his attention to Minjun, who murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and snuggles closer to both of you.

-

The early morning rays begin to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your eyes slowly flutter open as they meet your face. Stretching your tired body, you slowly realize that Minjun is gone already…and that Minho has gotten a lot closer overnight. You glance down and see his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to himself. His head is buried in your neck; you can feel his breath dancing across your skin. His hair feels soft against your skin and you wonder how it'd feel if you sank your hand into it. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do next. The warmth of his breath against your skin sends a mix of comfort and alarm coursing through you. This is Minho, you remind yourself, technically, he's still my boss. Yet, the intimacy of this accidental cuddling was something entirely new, a boundary neither of you had crossed before.

Minho stirs, his movements slow and sluggish as he approaches the edge of consciousness. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction when he realizes the closeness you both shared through the night. His eyes open gently, adjusting to the soft morning light, and then widen slightly as he takes in the position you both are in.

There's a moment of silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the unintentional closeness. Minho’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and something softer, a vulnerability you've seen only in fleeting moments. He pulls back slightly, his hand retreating from where it had found a place around your waist.

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho mutters, his voice a low rasp tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay,” you interject quickly, your voice soft, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “We were both asleep. Things happen.”

Minho nods, his cheeks tinged with a blush that he can't hide. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck—anxious gestures that you’ve come to recognize as his way of coping with discomfort. 

Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats. Both of you glance away, then back at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory in your relationship. Finally, Minho clears his throat, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he says, his voice steady but soft. “But I can’t say I regret waking up next to someone who means so much to Minjun… and to me.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. “Minho, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho interrupts gently. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For being here, for taking care of Minjun when I couldn’t, for being more than just an assistant, more than just a friend.”

The weight of his gratitude sits between you, heavy and warm. You nod, unsure of how to articulate the jumble of feelings his proximity and his words have stirred in you. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Minho,” you manage to say. 

Minho smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, easing some of the tension. He glances at the clock, then back at you. “I guess we should get up. I promised Minjun pancakes, and I suspect he’ll be storming in soon if we don’t start cooking.”

You laugh, the sound light and freeing, breaking the last remnants of awkwardness. “Pancakes it is,” you agree, getting out of bed. You adjust your clothes, still feeling the warmth of where Minho’s arm was wrapped around you.

As you both head to the kitchen, the normalcy of the routine helps mend the morning’s awkward start. Minjun greets you both with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension from earlier, comfortably on Changbin’s lap. “Uncle Changnin is fun,” he announces, making everyone giggle at his slight mispronunciation. 

“Mhm, of course, I am,” Changbin smirks, shooting the others a glare. “Uncle Changnin is fun..unlike some others here.”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “Who wants breakfast?”

Throughout the morning, there are shared glances and shy smiles between you and Minho, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that had deepened in the most unexpected way. As you watch Minho flip pancakes, his laughter mingling with Minjun’s excited chatter, you feel a contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is more than just a job; more than just a responsibility-it’s a part of your life that you cherish deeply.

Later, as you sit together eating the slightly deformed pancakes that Minjun insists are perfect, you catch Minho’s eye, and he gives you a small, grateful smile. You'd be okay. 

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[mysecretlittlelibrary]

The Scientific Method

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: just a bunch of ritual things, there's mention of blood and reader cuts their hand open

Genre: angst/fluff

Summary: They are determined to go through with this mind link and you have to do everything in your power to protect them

***

You groan to yourself as you shut yet another old heavy grimoire. The more you try to research this dammed ritual the more you feel like your head this close to exploding. You're overwhelmed trying to sort through conflicting information, unclear instructions, and a seemingly never-ending list of cautions. Several times over the last few hours you debated if it'd be easier to change their minds than go through with this. The knock at your apartment door shocks you so much you practically jump out of your skin. With a sigh, you stand from your desk and walk to the door. When you open the door you barely register your boyfriend standing there, your eyes trying to recover from combing over walls of text all day.

"Hello love." Steven smiles at you.

"Hi baby, what brings you over?" You ask stretching.

"It's movie night." He frowns.

"Right! Shit, is it time already?" You shake your head.

"How could you forget?" He chuckles.

"Well someone wants so badly to risk their sanity I've been doing research all day to protect this silly individual. Lost track of time I guess."

"You've been doing research on it?"

"Of course I have. If I'm going to do this insanely dangerous ritual I need to know it so well you'd think I was there upon its creation." You say.

"What have you found out?" He asks.

"I'm sitll sifting through it, there's possibly a potion involved-"

"Well you can put a pin in it for now, because it's movie night." Steven grabs you by the shoulders and leads you to your couch to sit you down.

"I'm just worried there's some time sensitivity aspect I'm missing. Something this complex probably requires very specific circumstances in order to have even a chance of being successful. Like what if it can only be done during a solar eclipes, or when all the fucking planets are aligned or-"

"Baby you don't have to work it out all at once, we're not in a rush, plus we trust you. I don't think you have anything to worry about." Steven says gently.

"That's fine for you, I'm the one performing the ritual you just have to show up, I'm the one responsible for making sure you don't die or lose your mind or lose a limb or-"

"Breathe." Marc says grabbing your hand. You stop and take a breath.

"Marc-"

"Don't start, and don't get yourself all worked up. It's like you don't even realize how powerful you are. You're not going to kill me, or drive me insane, or steal my arms. We will absolutely come out on the other side of this for the better." Marc says firmly.

"When did you get all optimistic?" You chuckle.

"When you showed up and gave me something worth living for." He says kissing your temple.

"You're such a softie." You scoff.

"Yeah yeah, now let's get this movie night started, you can research the spell later."

"Alright alright. I'll table it for now." You sigh letting Marc pull you closer to him as he starts the first movie for tonight.

*~*

You draw the last of the symbols on the ground, checking them for the umpteenth time that you got them all correct. You drove hours out of the city to prepare and do this spell. Marc is meant to meet you any minute now, but you've already been here a while getting all the bits and pieces together. You read your notes again, as if you haven't seared them into your brain at this point, but it helps you feel in control. You've done all the research you could possibly do without having a first hand account of doing this spell. You're as ready as you can be, you know you are, but there's just so much that could go wrong it's impossible not to be nervous.

"The pacing does not bode well for your sanity." The booming voice almost makes you drop your pages.

"Holy fuck- you brought the bird?!" You clutch your chest when you realize your boyfriend has arrived and so has Khonshu.

"I am not some pet he does not bring me anywhere. He is my Avatar, if you intend to disintegrate his mind it's in my personal interests to be aware of that." Khonshu says.

"I'm not disintegrating anything you kooky old skeleton but if you insist on being here do not interrupt." You roll your eyes.

"Even if it saves him from your incompetence?"

"Marc may work for you but I don't you fucking-"

"Khonshu don't speak to her that way." Jake interrupts. "We didn't tell you about this so you could come all this way just to insult her. She's powerful and capable and we have faith in her. Your opinion on the matter is not only unwanted, it is also unfound." You look between them as Jake's words hang in the air for a moment. 

"You hold her in high regard." Khonshu hums.

"You knew that already." Jake glares.

"To see it is a different thing."

"Are you two done?" You ask.

"Sorry mi amor, I told them to leave Khonshu in the dark but no one listens to me. How are you feeling?" Jake takes your hand in his, eyes scanning your face.

"Fine. Good. As good as I can be. Everything's set. How're you guys?" You ask.

"Steven's a little nervous."

"Just Steven?" You probe softly.

"Sí just Steven. Marc is, impatient and I am, managing our expectations."

"As always." You kiss his cheek.

"Are you two quite finished with the- whatever this is?" Khonshu scoffs and you're sure if he had eyes to roll he'd probably be doing that.

"Oh I'm sorry did you mistake us for a theater show? We're not here to entertain you." You roll your eyes. You walk over to your bag and pull out a small bottle. "Drink this."

"What's this?" Jake asks.

"Step one."

"Which does what?" His eyebrow cocks up at you.

"Makes you more susceptible to the magic of the spell so it's easier." You say, that's not exactly right but the full explanation would be far too much to break down and you need to focus on getting through this not giving a potions lesson. Jake downs the murky liquid and cringes slightly. It probably doesn't taste great based on the ingredients. "Stand in the center where all the lines meet."

"How should I stand?" He asks.

"Still." You mutter walking over to your bag for your ritual dagger.

"What?"

"You asked how you should stand. Stand still." You say.

"Amor?" Jake calls, making you look up from your recitation pages. "Te amo."

"I love you too." You say. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. It's now or never.

"Ich baln kikae fineir shel cae ganel ufnae oulm antae woom bae." The circle starts to shimmer in that familiar but unnatural way that's so custom of magic. You twirl the ritual knife once in your hand before slicing open your palm. A spell meant to bind you and another person in any way almost always requires blood.

"Ich Maie fanie rach el aer wol nihar welm intalm axo tanit shway." One hard squeeze of your hand drops blood on the first of the seven symbols that make up the points of the circle. The symbol lights up and the corresponding line follows and shines from end to end.

"Baint int quare yeel fren smer worsh ufer dal krei lut isht." More blood on symbol 2 lighting it and its line.

"Pahb arth e rinethow finae ni shabnida." Your hand is starting to hurt but you squeeze blood onto the third symbol and watch it join the first 2 in brightening the circle.

"Inae fuu raunk valum dae chaw ji prosh shay zila trof renda ishan." You watch the fourth symbol light up and move on to the next.

"Urf nae inst purn wolay kirna ru gant verin herab vins tae." Five down, two more to go.

"Ich shie bruy pir exun bakiyen wishor itarm kastey." Onto the last one.

"Intraey izarnit wor bint azun oxair yerin jiha geins." The last of the symbols lights up, and you walk over to Jake in the center. You tip his head back and squeeze blood into his mouth.

"Mierda! You didn't mention anything about-" Jake doesn't finish his sentence, he drops to the ground and you gasp.

"I imagine that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?" Khonshu muses. You roll your eyes you wish he'd shut up but at least the irritation overrode the panic bubbling. You take a deep breath and recite the last bit of the spell. It won't do you any good to leave the circuit incomplete, an unfinished spell could do more damage to Jake than whatever's already going on.

"Rahg inth der minshea loun weemae zontho ich baln kikae fineir." With the final incantation complete you watch as the spell circle burns brighter and brighter until all the symbols seemingly drain towards the center, disappearing one after the other as if Jake's body is absorbing them.

"Is it over?" Khonshu asks.

"Well the spell circle... disappeared so- I guess?"

"He's still unconscious."

"Gee hadn't noticed." You roll your eyes.

"There has to be something you can do about this you did the spell."

"Just pick him up off the ground." You say packing up your spell items.

"Why would I do that?"

"That spell wasn't easy, I don't have the strength to pick him up but it's not like we can just leave him out here overnight." You cross your arms.

"I am not carrying him all the way into town." Khonshu says.

"Why would you do that? Did you walk here?" You ask.

"The British one doesn't have a car."

"Sure but Jake does."

"Jake didn't want to have to leave the car here if something happened." Khonshu says.

"Whatever, I drove. You just need to get him to my car." You say.

"And what if I don't?"

"If you don't he spends the night out here." You shrug grabbing your bag of things and trudging away from the clearing.

"Well- hang on!" Khonshu huffs. A few moments later you hear his heavy footfalls behind you. "Would you really have left your boyfriend laying in a field unprotected."

"Of course not, the field had a bunch of defensive spells in place." You scoff.

"Why didn't you say that!?"

"I knew you wouldn't call my bluff." You say opening your car and tossing your bag in the passenger seat. "Drop him in the back please." You open the backseat door and help Khonshu fold your boyfriend across the seats.

"You had better hope they all survive your odd experimentation."

"It was their idea you foolis- you know what, it doesn't matter what you say, you have no right to pretend you value their life beyond how you can use them like a puppet of course I hope they survive I tried to talk them all out of this like 5 times. Stubborn fools." You shake your head.

"So what happens now?"

"Now I take him home and we hope for the best." You shrug getting into your car. You drive home, anxious to get your boyfriend home so you can start looking for some way to reverse this or at least help in some way.

Back at your apartment you struggle to get the body up to your place. Luckily it's incredibly late already or you'd probably have to explain this to more than just the person frowning at you from behind the front desk when you walked in. Once in the safety of your own apartment, you take a deep breath as you look at Marc passed out in your guest room.

"I don't want to get to say I told you so but you had better give me a chance to yell at you for being an idiot. You owe me that. Please wake up, you're far too stubborn to die like this. It'd be a rather pathetic way to go, given all the shit that didn't take you out." You huff. You feel so restless, you need to shower and you know you need to sleep because it's been a long and exhausting day but there's no way you'll get any rest with your boyfriend passed out indefinitely in the other room, all you want to do is sit up sifting through grimoires until the answer jumps out at you from one of the pages, you can't just leave him like that and not do anything-

"Stop." You say to yourself, hoping to stall your racing thoughts for a moment. "Okay, strategize. Realistically if you try to comb through your grimoires and things right now your eyes will literally fall out bleeding you have done entirely too much today even if you found the answer you wouldn't have the strength to do anything with it. He's physically safe and while you can't possibly know what's going on internally that'll have to be enough for now because you can't save him if you don't take care of yourself. Let's shower and try to get some sleep and we can approach this with a fresh mind in the morning."

With an acceptable game plan officially vocalized you take one more deep breath and clap your hands once to center yourself. Your shower helps tremendously which you knew it would but sometimes it's hard to regulate when so much is going on at once. You put on lotion and your pajamas and check on the trio once more before forcing yourself to go to bed. Hopefully you can get some sleep and maybe start problem solving this whole nightmare in the morning.

***

A/N: So sorry it took so long to get here my mind is a labrynth and my life has been a tornado lately, it's getting calm so what else would you like to see from this series?

Tagged Users: @itsmskeisha @auntiegigi @neteyamsluvts @a-lil-bit-nuts @i-love-sammwiches @chaosgoblinreblogsthings

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook/Taehyung/Jimin

L♡ve Triangle | TEASER

What happens when you put a painter, a dance teacher, and a personal trainer in one house with the person they all have a crush on?

Tags/Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Romance, so much bickering, Teasing, (heavy) flirting, Adult Themes (Aka you're all gonna be edged until the fic hits its climax towards the end oops), poly!AU, don't like it don't read it

Wordcount: ???

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━🐯🐰🐣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"All is fair in the fight for love." Taehyubg smirks from his corner, as Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"Well, be sure to remember your words then because I won't be holding back." He challenges, crossing his arms. "I'll win her heart in no time. You both can stay here and enjoy Yoongi's free vacation or something." He almost jokes, making Jimin frown.

"You act like she's already yours." He mumbles. "What if she doesn't choose you?" He asks, earning a look from Taehyung.

"Then obviously she'll choose me." He says.

"You don't know that. She knows me the longest-" jimin defends himself, causing Jungkook to click his tongue.

"Childhood friends to lovers almost never works out Jiminie, give it up." He hums towards his friend.

"Well, just because she chooses one doesn't mean she can't spend time with the other anymore. So it's not like I'll lock her up in my basement and never let her see the light of day again." Taehyung reassures.

"But, guys.." jimin sighs, running his hand through his hair. "You do know that we talked about already- and she said she can't choose." He says.

"Well,..." Jungkook mumbles, but for once doesn't have anything to say to this as he knows that his friend is correct.

"So what do we do if she chooses no one? Then we'll all lose her." The oldest of the group tries to reason with them, when Taehyng suddenly looks at both of them from his spot on the couch.

"What if we don't make her choose?" He proposes.

Everyone frowns, unsure what he's getting at.

"What if we just.. share?" Taehyung proposes. "Not in some.. weird kinky way. But I mean, genuinely." He says, trying to explain his point. "She already made it clear she can't choose. She also gave each of us very clear signs that she holds deeper affection than what one would have for 'just' a friend." The young man offers. "What if we share?"

"You mean a triangle-relationship?" Jungkook wonders, and Jimin laughs.

"It would be more of a square, Kook." He corrects his friend who draws a shape of a triangle, before Jimin interrupts by holding his hand. "Taehyung-" he points to one point in the air. "Me.." he moves his friend's hand to another. "You-" he moves it again until he looks at his friend with raised eyebrows.

"Oh right! We're four then.." jungkook exclaims, and Taehyung can't help but laugh with everyone in endearment for a second-

Until all of them look at each other, silently agreeing to the plan. If neither of them can have you because you refuse to choose, then why not do this?

Sharing is caring, after all- and yoongi never said how they were supposed to solve their love triangle at the end of this vacation, after all.

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 2

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 3.2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: I do not necessarily intent to update this everyday, but then again I won't complain about it when I'm motivated enough to make it happen. Also, just as a side note: My knowledge of the British aristocracy and the laws of inheritance in England at this particular time are shaky at best. Some things I will research because I feel like I can't leave it alone, but in this case I honestly do not care how historically accurate every single detail is. Again, Bridgerton is an AU, so I'll do what I want.

Benedict slumped down on the settee, arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He was all but lying down with how far he had sunk, and as he half-lay in his seat, his mind raced.

He was frustrated.

It had been days since the Danbury ball, and yet he was no closer to discovering the identity of the enchanting young woman he had met there. In these past few days, she had occupied more space in his mind than he was comfortable admitting. He needed to see her again--or at the very least learn her name.

He had been through every family he could possibly think of, but all had been dead ends. Not that he was familiar with every household in the ton, but certainly his mother had briefed him on many of the households with eligible debutantes. He thought surely one must be the home of his mystery woman.

Anthony strolled into the drawing room, an eyebrow lifting as he looked over at his brother.

"What's got you brooding so?" he asked, taking a seat next to Colin at the small, round table that had been laid out with confections. He took a jelly tart for himself as he eyed Benedict from his seat.

"I do not brood brother--you are the one that broods," Benedict corrected, wiggling himself further down the settee, "I am pouting at best."

"Then what has you pouting so, Benedict?" Colin chimed in, setting the book he had been reading aside.

Benedict thought for a moment about telling them. They were his brothers after all, and there was the possibility one of them may even have some insight into the young lady's identity.

He thought better of it almost as soon as the thought entered his mind.

There was the potential to gain valuable information yes, but the ribbing he would receive in return would be never-ending. And there was the risk of the information reaching his mother's ear. He shuttered to think what she would do if she believed he was actively seeking a wife--he saw how she was with Anthony last season.

He certainly didn't want anyone in his family to presume something so ludicrous as his desire to marry--he wasn't looking for a wife, he was only curious.

Yes, curiosity. That was all.

He decided it wasn't worth the trouble; not yet, at least. While he had no luck finding her again, at the very least he knew she was aware of him. There was a chance she may seek him out, however slim it may be. And it seemed very likely she would attend the next ball. A debutante newly introduced in society could hardly be kept from every dance and social engagement held throughout the season. Even if she herself had seemed less than taken with the last event, there was surely a pestering mama in the picture that was pushing her forward regardless.

So he would wait to speak of it with his family until he had no other options.

"I was just thinking longingly of the peace and quiet in the house while the two of you were away," he joked, his hands moving dramatically to press together, as if in prayer.

"Well now I know you're lying," Anthony smirked, "Since when did you enjoy peace and quiet?"

"It certainly sounds out of character," Colin agreed, "Perhaps he simply enjoyed having fewer people around to catch him leaving for his nightly excursions."

"Yes Colin, I think you're right," the eldest brother replied. Benedict scowled, finally sitting up straight as to address his brothers at eye-level.

"That is quite the accusation, dear brother. Care to defend it on the piste?" Benedict challenged.

Colin smirked, "Careful brother--I'm stronger than I used to be."

"Well then, perhaps after another trip abroad you may finally pose a challenge for me," Benedict quipped, "Shall you join as well Anthony? You wouldn't want to miss our younger brother's humiliating defeat."

"He has been rather big-headed since his return, it would be nice to watch his ego deflate," Anthony grinned over at Colin, "For his own sake as well as ours."

"Would the two of you like to back up your boasting, or shall we sit and discuss it for another hour?" Colin huffed. Anthony and Benedict exchanged knowing smiles.

"Very well then," Benedict said as he rose from his seat, "Shall we then?"

The three brothers exited the room, pushing each other lightly and laughing as they headed for the back garden.

---

Beatrice slumped forward in her chair, frowning as her unfocused gaze fell to the bookshelves that lined the far wall. Her chin sat balanced on one hand, as the other absentmindedly fiddled with a page in the large book that lay on the table in front of her. She knew she would be reprimanded if her tutor--or worse, her grandmother--saw her slouching, but she was too bored to concern herself with it at the moment. She sighed, glancing down at the page she held between her fingers.

As the second child of the Prince Regent, Beatrice was fourth in line for the throne--soon to be fifth, once Charlotte's child was born. She no longer needed to prepare for a hypothetical future where she would someday need to step up and become queen. Yet still, her father insisted she continue her studies while forcing her to follow his excessively strict rules. Even convincing him to allow her stay at Buckingham House had been a struggle. Luckily, her father was rather a pushover when it came to his mother, and when the queen had insistent Beatrice be allowed to stay for the season he could hardly say no.

She straighten, only to slid down into her chair. It's not as if she disliked the act of learning altogether. There had been many times when she felt she had truly enjoyed her lessons, having looked forward to more than one. But there were others that felt rather pointless; just tedious memorization that she would never have need for even if she were to become queen.

Studying the crest and founder of all the current noble houses, along with the family tree going back at least three generations, was not exactly thrilling.

She had found some enjoyment when she first started, flipping immediately to the section concerning a family she was now quite interested in. It did somehow feel a little like snooping, and she felt a bit guilty looking through Benedict's family history. However, she told herself it was all public knowledge, and after all it was a part of her studies.

She learned quite a lot about the family--their crest, the first Viscount's name and history, and of course the family as it stands now. It was a surprise to learn Benedict had seven siblings; she couldn't even begin to image having such a large family. Then again, her father was one of fifteen children, so perhaps eight was not so unreasonable.

After learning all she could about the Bridgertons, she moved on. She was less enthusiastic about learning anything at all about the other households, and soon she found her thoughts drifting.

It had been a few days since the ball. Beatrice had been the one to ask if she could attend, and at the time truly thought she would enjoy going. She hoped she may make a friend--possibly even two. She had been so isolated as a child, and her sister had always been little company to her. It would have been nice to talk to people her own age.

However, she had not expected she would cause such a frenzy. She hadn't realized how little people saw of the royal family at such events--with the exception of the queen, of course. It made Beatrice too conspicuous. She was a shining light of hope representing the next generation of the monarchy.

Then of course, there were the men. Knowing nothing about her, yet treating her like a prized mare up for auction. She supposed even as the second child, she must seem appealing to them. The crown may be out of reach, but her future husband would still be a prince--and of course, there was the considerable amount of riches she had access to as a member of the royal household.

Perhaps that's why she had been so taken with Benedict Bridgerton.

He had clearly not known who she was. Perhaps he had arrived late, or been out of the room when she had been announced alongside her grandmother. Either way, he seemed truly clueless to the title she carried. It made him seem so genuine compared to the others she had met that night. It had been so refreshing to be treated as her own person, rather than a royal. It may well be his motivations were less than pure, but at the very least he seemed like an honest person. Perhaps more prone to humorous banter, but still so sincere when it was needed.

This left her with a rather vexing problem.

On the one hand, he would certainly learn her identity sooner or later. It made sense to simply tell Benedict now rather than hide it from him, which may go poorly when he did eventually discover the truth. On the other hand, she had enjoyed their conversation immensely, and if he found out she was a princess after only a single meeting, he would likely feel the obligation to treat her just as everyone else did. She would lose her one chance to have a real connection with someone that wasn't singularly focused on her proximity to the throne.

If she wanted to continue hiding her title from him, she would need to find a way to see him. If they built up a friendship first, perhaps once he did learn the truth he would be less inclined to treat her differently. She was nearly guaranteed to see him at the next ball, but then she would once again be announced as a princess. Whatever had caused him to miss her entrance at the first ball, she had doubts that it would happen a second time.

With that being the case, she either had to wait and see him at the next ball, holding out hope he may continue to act as he had before even after learning the truth. Or, she had to see him outside of a ballroom. She couldn't bare the thought of losing an opportunity for real friendship, but of course she would never be allowed to leave Buckingham House on her own. This left her with only one option.

She would have to sneak out.

---

Benedict lounged lazily on the sill of his bedroom window. His head leaned back against the wood of the frame as he gazed out over the lamp lit streets below. In his lap sat his sketchbook, filled with half-finished sketches of a lovely young woman whose face he just couldn't quite capture.

Spending the afternoon with his brothers had been a nice reprieve from his mind, but night had fallen and now he was alone. There was nothing to stop his thoughts from wandering every corner of London, searching for a girl he hardly knew. Benedict threw his sketchbook to the floor with a groan, rubbing his charcoal stained hands down his face in frustration.

He felt ridiculous, being so overcome with thoughts of someone he barely knew. The mystery and intrigue of it all certainly played a part in his curiosity, but he would be lying if he said it had nothing to do with the girl herself. Such circumstances made her a novelty to be sure, but she had exhibited qualities he had not often see from those of the ton. He had replayed their conversation a hundred times in his mind, and he was now sure that he knew at least something of her character.

To Benedict, she had seemed a well of profound, thoughtful emotion. She felt things deeply and was not ashamed to show it. This was in contrast to so many in his social class, who held propriety above all things--even their own feelings.

She had been shy, but still wasn't quite as naive as he may have first thought. She was clearly kind, but that didn't stop her from being quick-witted when she saw the occasion for it.

It had been such a short amount of time, but what he had learned of her had only fueled a desire to learn more.

Perhaps most interesting was that her insecurities seemed to match his own perfectly. He had been feeling rather useless following Anthony's return, and from what she had said she felt quite the same about her own situation. He had never expected to find a kindred spirit in one of the young ladies of the ton.

Not that Benedict thought them all completely incapable of deeper thought, it was only that his situation as a second-son was rather obviously specific only to sons. A woman could not inherit her families title even if she were the first born child, so it was unlikely to find one so worried over her place within the family hierarchy. It was their future husband's title that truly mattered.

He didn't know enough about the young lady's family to know for sure, but he supposed if her family had only daughters it would be up to the eldest to marry well to secure their family's title and estate. A second daughter would inevitably leave once she was wed, leading him to believe his mysterious young lady must also be quite loyal to worry about her family so.

Perhaps that was something to think on.

---

Benedict, so caught up in his own mind, failed to notice when the very woman occupying his thoughts appeared on the street below him.

She pulled the hood closer to her face as she looked up at him, his shadowed profile gazing up at the stars. He was difficult to make out in the low light, but she was quite certain it was him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

She was thankful to arrive having drawn no unnecessary attention. This time, she wore a less conspicuous dress than she had at the ball. It was made of a pale green fabric, cut in the popular style the other ladies of the ton were wearing. She had worn a silken, violet cloak over top so she was able to hide her face from view. Perhaps walking around covering her face was in itself a suspicious act, but anyone who may look at her strangely for it would have no opportunity to get a good look at her face, which was all that concerned her.

She may have avoided notice so far, but she faced a new problem: How was she to draw Benedict's eye without also drawing the attention of passersby on the street? She could not simply call out to him, but them he would need to be looking down at the street to alert him quietly. Frustratingly, at the moment he seemed content looking up at the sky, rather than down to earth.

She had only one other idea.

---

As Benedict sat deep in thought, he was roused by a small clank on the wall near his window. Before he had the chance to turn his head, something small and hard smacked him in the forehead. The surprise caused him to lose his balance, his body rocking back and forth in the open window. When he at last steadied himself, he rubbed his forehead, looking down to find whomever it was that had struck him.

A woman in a hooded cloak looked back up at him, gloved hands raised to her mouth in a look of surprise and worry.

Once she realized she had his attention, she pulled back her hood, and Benedict felt his heart jump to his throat.

It was her.

She was really here.

This time, the shock did cause him to tumble over, though thankfully landing on his bedroom floor rather than the street below. He scrambled to the window, popping his head out as he gripped the sill. She had one hand to her lips, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle a laugh. She quickly beckoned for him to come down before turning, pulling her hood back to it's place atop her golden curls.

Benedict fumbled as he stood, grabbing his coat and gloves from their place discarded on his bed as he all but ran out of the room. He nearly barreled straight into Anthony as he flew down the stairs, one arm in his jacket.

Anthony gave Benedict a suspicious look, "And where are you going in such a rush?"

"Out," Benedict replied simply, sliding his free arm through the empty sleeve.

"Out where?" Anthony asked, annoyed.

"Just out," Benedict reiterated, "Honestly brother, do you truly want to know?"

Anthony sighed, "No, I suppose I don't." He gave his brother a stern look, "Just be sure our mother doesn't catch you--I have to hear enough from her about Colin as it is."

Benedict smiled. He grabbed Anthony's face between his hands and gave his cheek a quick kiss, "Thank you brother!" Anthony made a disgusted noise, knocking Benedict's hands away, "This is why you're my favorite elder brother," he added as he began descending the rest of the staircase.

"I'm your only elder brother!" Anthony shot back, shaking his head as he turned away, continuing his way up to the second floor.

Benedict grinned from ear to ear as he burst through the doors of Bridgerton House. He turned when he reached the street, catching sight of her as she fidgeted with her hands nervously. His smile softened as he watched her, though in truth he was beginning to feel quite nervous himself. Benedict started to move toward her, and soon enough she caught sight of him. He smiled at her, his stomach doing somersaults when she shyly smiled back. They stood there in silence for a long moment, taking each other in.

"You're here," Benedict commented at last.

"Ah, yes...I am," she smiled as she glanced down briefly, "It's good to see you again, Mister Bridgerton--and I am quite sorry, about the rock." He looked at her in confusion, until she quickly pointed to her forehead and he realized her meaning.

"Oh! Was that what that was? It's no bother--after all, I can think of far worse things you could have thrown at me." The back of her fingers pressed lightly to her lips as she laughed. He smiled, feeling emboldened by her response to his rather silly joke, "Though, if you truly wanted to make it up to me, you could start by telling me your name?"

She looked surprised, "Oh, right. Of course. I suppose I did fail to give it to you when we spoke before."

"Yes, and I must say I've been taking it quite personally," he said, his lower lip pouting as he looked at her in mock sadness. She smiled.

"Well, I would hate to think I had caused you any pain," she joked, and he grinned back. "You may call me Beatrice."

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume

[xxlady-lunaxx]

hi, I'm not sure if you accept requests rn, but if you do, can u make a oneshot of sanemi nursing giyuu back to health after a near-death experience? like a demon, or maybe drowning, if not that's totally fine!

hhihi anon<3

Yes, I do accept requests from here bc I get considerably less on tumblr (which is a relief btw-), so I'll do it

I hope I wrote this quickly enough ;x; I think it took a couple of days, sorry

Thoughts of you | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: Floof w/ practically non-existent angst

Note: Aaaa there wasn't a lot of the 'nursing back to health' IM SORRY- bc it was mostly giyuu falling in love towards middle-end

×××

Giyuu had worked himself to near-death quite literally. It wasn't on purpose, really! He had just gone... overboard. He'd gotten distracted. Which was unlike himself, unlike a Hashira. But it happened, and there wasn't any going back. He had trained from hour to hour, little to no stop, slept about two hours total in the last three days, and hadn't bothered to get any proper food. He supposed it was some prolonged adrenaline that kept him throughout the days, letting him trudge on. He had gotten another mission, at one point, after these days of totally-taking-care-of-himself, and had gone along tiredly. He had no time to rest, after all.

He had arrived on time, luckily, and had decapitated the demon within the first ten minutes. There was a couple other demons, which took longer to kill because they were hiding. Once finding them, he sapped up the strength he had left and killed them as well. He found, however, that he had used up any energy he'd had left, and tipped over. He wobbled, trying and failing to regain his balance. Then next thing he knew, he was submerged in water, arms aching as he attempted to swim to the surface. He hadn't realized there was an ocean here.

Then he realized there had been some sort of river, maybe. Connecting to a waterfall? It was either considerably deeper than he'd imagined or he was simply too exhausted to get up. He was floating upside down, his eyes shut tight to prevent water from entering them. He felt something sharp grazing his arm and flinched away before realizing it was his katana. He struggled for a moment, trying to sheathe it, but failed. He didn't feel like moving. His body felt like lead and he didn't know if he would ever move again. He felt the breath being drawn out from his lungs, replaced by water. It stung and he coughed, then realized that struggling would only worsen the pain. He stopped, allowing the water to enter his mouth, ignoring the throb in his lungs and the impulse to cough it out.

And suddenly he was flying. Rising? What was happening? His senses had long since faded to a low dull but he felt strong arms wrapping around his torso, lifting him up and out of the water. He felt heavier, the water that had soaked into his clothing weighing him down.

"Damn you, Tomioka..." a distant voice from above him said, annoyance and concern lacing the words.

Giyuu coughed pitifully, the air hitting him like a gust of arctic wind. He was placed down, grass poking at his skin. Hands pressed on his chest, making his cough more, water slowly forcing his way into or out of his lungs. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and didn't make a move to try. He vaguely registered lips against his own, the blissful feeling of air in his lungs again, before blacking out, his senses going dark.

He woke up, eventually. It hurt to breathe and he struggled to draw in a steady breath. His hand stung and he recalled having cut it somehow. His head throbbed like a lightbulb, fading in and out. He sat up slowly, dizzy from the blood that rushed to his head. He blinked. He was laying in a futon, a blanket draped over his body. He lifted his injured hand and found it bandaged. He looked around. He didn't recognize this place. It was unfamiliar to him, and he hated it.

His breath was constricted, though, and if he couldn't breathe well there really wasn't any chance of leaving. He coughed, the unsettling feeling of water still in his lungs making him want to tear them out.

His coughing had brought attention to him and he heard only a minute later he heard a clattering sound of something wooden falling, then footsteps making their way quickly to the room. He went to pretend he was asleep but was a moment too late when, to his shock, Sanemi entered. 

He walked to the futon, kneeling down. "You're an idiot, Tomioka, you know that, right?"

Giyuu didn't respond, wondering if this was Sanemi's house then—or if he had simply been put up to the task of helping him.

Sanemi let out a breath. "Fine, be it your way. Does anything hurt particularily badly?"

Giyuu considered this and shook his head. No, nothing did. It stung when he breathed in and his hand and head hurt, but none of them were bad. He'd definitely experienced worse before.

"Good," Sanemi said with a nod. "Now, tell me what you were doing tipping over into the water on your mission."

"I'm sorry," Giyuu mumbled. He didn't know why he had let down his guard, let himself fall. He honestly didn't.

"You better be. Also, I had Kocho run some tests on you too. Turns out you haven't eaten or drunk enough water in the past few days or so, also you've had not even close to enough sleep, and according to your crow you haven't stopped training to do much in the first place," Sanemi said, an exasperated sigh leaving his body. "You're an idiot, Tomioka. Take better care of yourself."

Giyuu hesitated. "She can see that much from a test?"

Sanemi lifted a shoulder. "It was also just eyeing you. Those eyebags were enough indication in terms of sleep."

"Oh." 

Sanemi nodded.

"I feel better now, I can go home," Giyuu said, starting to stand.

Sanemi pushed him back down. "No. You're staying here and sleeping until you get better. I don't want to see you getting up for anything except the bathroom, alright?"

Giyuu frowned. "But-"

"No." 

There were no more arguments to be said. Sanemi left to go make some food and Giyuu was on his own again, fuming.

He looked down at himself and realized, for the first time, that he wasn't in his own clothes. Had Sanemi changed him?

He glanced around, not seeing his haori around. A sort of panic rose in him and he scrambled up, wobbling for a second, before making his way to the hall where he'd seen Sanemi go. He scampered through it, looking right and left. Had his haori fallen off or been ripped or?-

Sanemi stopped him, clear annoyance directed towards Giyuu. "What the hell are you doing up? I told you to stay down unless you needed the bathroom!"

Giyuu ignored him. "Where's... my haori?" he asked quietly, urgently.

Sanemi let out a breath. "If that was all, you could've just asked." Then his expression softened as he noticed the panic in Giyuu's voice. "It's fine. I washed it and it's drying now. You were soaked from the river, I wasn't about to leave you in those clothes and let you get sick."

Giyuu relaxed. He trusted that Sanemi wouldn't do anything to his haori—he didn't have any reason to, after all. "...thank you," he mumbled.

Sanemi nodded. "Now, back to bed."

He marched him back to the room, tucking him in. 

"I'll bring you your food. So cooperate, okay?"

Giyuu nodded.

Sanemi nodded back, gave him one last look, before closing the door and going back down the hall.

×××

Despite Sanemi's usual arrogance, he was surprisingly tender when caring for Giyuu. There were times he reminded him of Tsutako, his hands gently wrapping bandages back around Giyuu's injured hand, feeding him food when Giyuu lapsed into some sort of fever for a couple days. It was soothing, almost, and Giyuu found great comfort from it. He didn't know that Sanemi was able to be like this but he loved it and hoped that maybe it would last a bit longer.

Though he was considerably kinder to Giyuu, Sanemi still found ways to berate him, getting mad at him when he tried getting up on his own during the fever. 

While carrying him to the bathroom, Sanemi would snap at him, saying that he was being stubborn for not letting himself be helped. It was ironic that he reminded Giyuu of Tsutako; they were complete opposites in every way possible. But it was what seperated him from Tsutako, it was what made him his own person. And it was what made Giyuu's heart throb almost yearningly around Sanemi. He didn't understand it, at first. He figured it was just a reminising of his past days as a child—those of which he could barely remember, he might add. And yet as time passed on, he found it wasn't that. He found he had fallen for Sanemi. Somehow.

He thought it would be a fleeting crush. Maybe just happy to be with Sanemi when he was being nicer. But it grew stronger as days passed. Then Giyuu was allowed out, he was released back into the comfort of his own home. Yet he went back to Sanemi the following day, offering him some food as a thank you. They sat together and talked, drank tea and had some mochi. It was wonderful.

He managed to convince himself, at one point, that he was only coming to thank him for it. That it meant nothing. But it became clear, and he couldn't deny it anymore, when he stopped by the following days, found himself around Sanemi constantly, and... And his thoughts seemed to trail to Sanemi no matter what. Oh, look, a dog! Sanemi likes dogs. A cat? Sanemi never cared for cats. There's a snake in that pet shop! Obanai has a snake. Sanemi and Obanai are friends, right? Obanai is one of the few Sanemi actually gets along with. Hmm, maybe some tea would be good. Sanemi seemed to like tea—or at least have it often with ohagi. 

No, yeah, no. Giyuu was in love.

Upon Sanemi's threats, Giyuu started taking more mind to himself. He tried to sleep at least a couple hours per day, tried to eat and drink more water, kept track of the time and his own body while training. He felt proud of himself for going through with Sanemi's words—then immediately felt childish for being proud. But he continued at it. Although if he hadn't, he probably would've been forced to by Shinobu or Sanemi in the first place. 

Usually, on his missions, Giyuu managed to avoid any injuries worse than a scratch. Except he had gotten distracted this time. His distraction had caught himself off guard and, as he hurried to get back to the present, the demon had managed to slash his leg where the uniform wasn't protecting him. It wasn't a particularily strong demon, so it didn't do much harm, but blood still dampened his clothing. Giyuu killed the demon quickly and then stumbled out of the village he had been in, avoiding people. His calf stung and he winced as he walked. 

He realized that the closest house he knew of that he could go to from here wasn't his own or the Butterfly Estate. Rather, it was Sanemi's. Figuring he could persuade Sanemi for, maybe, some bandages, he rushed over, ignoring the pain that stabbed his leg as he ran. 

He knocked on the door. Luckily, dawn was approaching, so Sanemi was home. The door opened and Sanemi rolled his eyes upon seeing Giyuu injured. He grabbed Giyuu by the elbow and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him.

"Are you going to keep injuring yourself and running to me for help?" Sanemi asked with slight irritation, searching through his drawers for something.

Giyuu lifted a shoulder. "I didn't come to you the first time."

"Still." Sanemi turned, bandages and some cotton balls in hand. He knelt, having Giyuu sit on a chair, and rolled Giyuu's pant leg up, wiping the blood away then dabbing the cotton balls with something and cleaning the wound. He wrapped the bandages around it, tucked it in, then looked up. "Doesn't hurt bad, does it?"

Giyuu shook his head. "It's fine. The demon wasn't that strong. I just... got distracted."

Sanemi frowned. "So you're off forgetting you're also human and overworking yourself to half-death, then you're getting distracted and getting injured by a weak demon now?" he asked pointedly, a disappointed sigh leaving him. 

"...when you put it like that," Giyuu mumbled. 

"Why the fuck were you even distracted?" Sanemi asked, resting a hand on Giyuu's knee as he pulled himself up.

Giyuu hesitated. "I was... thinking."

"About?" 

"...you?"

Sanemi paused. "What?"

"Sorry, nevermind, nothing," Giyuu said quickly, standing suddenly and nearly knocking Sanemi and the chair over. 

"What the fuck do you mean, me?" Sanemi asked, stepping in front of Giyuu and stopping him from moving forward.

"No, I..." Giyuu shook his head. "Nothing." 

"...Tomioka," Sanemi said. 

Giyuu looked up. 

"Tomioka, do you like me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"W...WHAT???" Giyuu asked, startled. He fell back onto the chair in his shock.

"God, why are you shouting now?" Sanemi said with a sigh.

"That was so random..." Giyuu mumbled.

"Yeah, well, you're acting like you like me. So either you clarify that you're not, or I'm going to keep you here until you tell me something worth hearing," Sanemi said, poising his hands on his hips. 

Giyuu let out a breath. "I can't clarify something that's not true."

Sanemi cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"You told me to clarify that I didn't like you," Giyuu said quietly.

Sanemi took a moment to understand. "Oh. Oh, so you do?"

Giyuu nodded slowly, looking away. It couldn't hurt to tell him, right? He would probably just act as he had before he had helped him. Angry and annoyed at him. 

And yet.

"Hm. That's unexpected," Sanemi admitted. 

"Can I go now?" Giyuu asked. 

Sanemi thought for a moment. "No."

"But I told you-"

"Yeah, shut up," Sanemi said with a huff. He glanced down at Giyuu's lap the promptly sat down, facing him. 

Giyuu flushed and tried pushing Sanemi off for a half second, before his hands fell to his side and he looked up at Sanemi. "What're you...?"

"If you like me, then would you date me?" Sanemi asked curiously, ignoring his question.

Giyuu considered this. "Only if you liked me too."

"Then will you be my boyfriend?" Sanemi inquired, sounding so casual it took Giyuu a moment to understand the question.

"I... Wha- You- I said if you liked me, only," Giyuu stuttered, struggling to comprehend what exactly had happened. 

"I do," Sanemi said. 

"But... what? How? What?"

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Do you want to be my boyfriend or do you want me to slap you?"

Giyuu grew quiet again. "Fine."

"Fine what? Because if you don't clarify, I'm going to assu-"

"We can date," Giyuu interrupted, averting his eyes. "If you want it too."

Sanemi smiled. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Then, abruptly, he kissed him. It was fleeting, but it felt like an eternity of bliss, somehow, and Giyuu longed for it again when he pulled away.

Sanemi stood, moving back to give Giyuu room. "Alright, now go back home and take care of your leg. Don't keep injuring yourself and being idiotic."

Giyuu opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, unsure. He stood and walked to the door. Sanemi saw him out, watching him leave.

Then, once outside, Giyuu turned back and walked back to the door. "Can you kiss me again?" he asked tentatively.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Want a good-bye kiss?"

Giyuu lifted a shoulder. "Is that bad?"

"Not at all." Sanemi leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Giyuu's lips, moving back a moment later. "Bye, Tomioka."

Giyuu lowered his head in a quick bow. "Thank you."

Sanemi's mouth curved in a smile. "See you later."

"'Later," Giyuu agreed, walking back home.

×××

« Word count: 2600 »

those oneshots where you like how it started and hate how it ended

smh I can never write something where I like the whole thing 😭

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 26: The Proposal

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 7734 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“Yorozu?” King Gojo asked you.

Hundreds of eyes watched you with deadly curiosity. All the air in your lungs tightened after hearing that name. You may have killed her, but you were still bound to her for life. Blood is thicker than water. She had told you that she had met the divine man in front of you, but why did he ask you about her? Rather, why did he confuse you if they had already met? That bitch was surely mocking you from the urn you decorated for her.

“Huh?” Was the only thing you could answer, in shock.

Gojo leaned to inspect you more closely, making the difference of height more evident. Even though he was not as tall as Sukuna, he still towered over you. His eyes narrowed, and his thin white eyebrows came together as he scanned your face carefully.

“Oh, you are different.” Gojo blinked a few times as if he had noticed something that wasn't there before. "You must be…"

"Her sister." You closed your hands into fists to control the whirlwind of emotions that her simple name caused in you.

"Oh, I see!" Gojo returned to his normal, long and elegant posture, with a big pearly smile. "How is she?" He asked as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

"She passed away," you answered honestly.

"Oh…" It was the only thing Gojo could say, not expecting that answer. "What did she die of?"

"I killed her" was not an answer you wanted to say openly with hundreds of judging eyes floating around you. You were going to answer with some illness, but King Nanami interjected into the conversation.

"King Gojo, please be more careful," Nanami implored him. “I’m sorry for your loss, young lady.” He looked at you with pitying eyes.

His kind, yet direct way of speaking reminded you of an old friend of yours. A boy with his head in books, always trying to help everyone, with a strong sense of justice. The person who taught you how to read. Being so busy worrying about yours and your sister’s survival, you hadn’t taken the time to miss him. What a terrible friend you were.

“Don’t worry, King Nanami.” You gave him a sad smile. This was your chance to draw pity to you. “King Sukuna killed my sister.”

The crowd gasped around you upon hearing that terrible event. You refrained from smiling in satisfaction as you found the perfect way to distance yourself from the terrible tyrant so you could spy on the nobility. Even though he dressed you like a princess from head to toe, that fact now made you look like a poor lost soul being dragged along by the king of curses. To the surprise of the newly arrived kings, Commander Naoya approached them.

“This is Y/n, the maid that King Sukuna brought," he whispered the context to them.

“Is King Sukuna here?” Nanami opened his eyes in perplexity.

“This evening is just beginning, and it's already gotten interesting. I'm so glad that you forced me to come, Nanamin!” Gojo exclaimed excitedly, downplaying the fact that the king of curses was under the same roof.

“He's in a private meeting with King Toji. They shouldn't be long,” Naoya answered Nanami's question.

"So he beat me to it, damn!" Gojo raised his eyebrow before lowering the white blindfold over his eyes.

That last sentence caught your attention. King Gojo wanted to see your king too? Why? That was your new mission: find out what he wanted from the King of Curses.

"Well, it seems I'll have to wait until they're done." Gojo sighed angrily. "I'll have to entertain myself with a pretty lady in the meantime."

The surrounding girls squealed in excitement, raising their hand to be chosen to hang out with his majesty. This was the part you were never good at, getting attention. Despite wearing a dress to kill, you didn't have the confidence to compete with girls who were actually royalty. But this wasn't the time to hesitate, just act. You took a deep breath, filling yourself with courage. If he didn't choose you, you would choose yourself.

"King Gojo, allow me the honor of keeping you company until King Sukuna is free," you offered, bowing to show him the utmost of your respect. His lips parted, surprised by your bravery.

"I'd be a real idiot to say no to a beautiful woman in a daring red dress." King Gojo took your hand gently and kissed your knuckles as if they were fragile rose petals. "The honor is all mine." He smiled flirtatiously at you. You felt the murderous glances of the other girls against your neck, but that was the least of your problems now.

The meeting room was illuminated by the soft flames of the fireplace. The orchid tapestry lay softly on the walls, the symbol of the Zen'in family. Sukuna had his large buttocks on the elegant forest green chair that creaked with each shuffle move, barely supporting his weight. King Toji uncorked a bottle of sake and poured two glasses as he proudly told him about his kingdom. Despite the calm sound, the tension could be felt with every breath. Two powerful kings, faithful enemies who never thought they would meet, were now in the same room.

“I was supposed to open this bottle when my baby was born, but I think this is an even more impressive moment than life itself.” King Toji commented as he handed one of the glasses to Sukuna. “Let's make a toast, what do you think?” Toji said as he sat down on the opposite chair.

“What are we toasting to?” Sukuna asked disinterestedly.

“There are many reasons. The bright future, the stability of our kingdoms, having beautiful women by our side, just to mention a few examples.”

Sukuna saw his reflection in the glass. He wondered what you were doing at that moment. Probably gawking at the orchestra or talking to some polite duchess, trying your best not to be obvious enough that you were a spy. The corner of his lip smiled as he thought how lucky he was that he hadn't killed you the day he met you. If he had, he wouldn't have the perfect queen and the mother of his future children by his side. It was amazing how you did whatever he wanted without batting an eyelid, where had you been all this time?

“You said you wanted to do business,” Sukuna reminded him, returning to his role as the insolent king.

“A little conversation doesn't kill anyone.” Toji took a sip of his glass before placing it on the table.

His posture went from relaxed to attentive. He straightened his spine against the chair, placed both feet on the floor, and bowed his torso to the tyrant in front of him. Toji had to think very carefully about his next move. He knew the proposal was very good, but he wasn't dealing with a normal king. This was the king of curses, the one who cares about nothing but himself and his curses. For the simple fact that he was a human, there was a high chance that King Sukuna would reject him completely.

“I imagine you know the Kamo’s very well,” Toji asked.

The Kamo Kingdom. Located south of the Gojo Kingdom and east of the New Sukuna Kingdom. One of the three most powerful sorcerer families in the world. Persevering, agile and highly traditional. 500 years ago, they were a much more powerful kingdom than the Gojo and Zen'in combined… until Sukuna came along.

“A little, why?” Sukuna raised his eyebrow.

“You see, 100 years ago, the sorcerer kingdoms formed an alliance to help each other in case of an invasion by curses.” Toji explained.

Sukuna was aware of that thanks to Kenjaku. After Sukuna conquered the land of the Kamo and King Jogo took part of the land of the Gojo. The kingdoms of Gojo, Zen’in, Nanami, Yaga, Geto and Tsukumo signed an agreement where they established the necessary measures that would be taken in case a curse conquered their lands. Everyone signed except the Kamo, who were very upset with the other kingdoms, because no one helped them when he attacked them. The Kamo's never forget.

“Not only did they not sign the agreement, but they also closed their doors to the other sorcerer kingdoms forever. Now they only dedicate themselves to killing curses by tradition. It may be a small kingdom, but you must know that they are very powerful.” Toji poured another glass of sake for Sukuna.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Sukuna took the glass and drank it with disdain.

“If I want to get close to the Kamo, I must do it with something that catches their attention, and you have just what I need.” Toji explained. “The human commune that you own may have descendants of the Kamo.” Sukuna could not help but burst out laughing.

“Believe me, there is none. I dedicated myself to killing each one of those bastards 500 years ago.” Sukuna sneered. “Also, those rats don't believe in sorcerers, nor have my curses reported any sorcerers to me. If there was a plague like that, I would have already taken the time of day to eradicate it.”

“They may not be sorcerers, but those "rats" are still descendants of the Kamo.” Toji laughed at the absurd nickname. “I propose the following: you give me 20 humans from the commune in exchange for leaving the forest of curses free of Zen'in sorcerers. What do you think?”

He smiled, satisfied with himself, it was a great proposal. Toji got a key to enter the Kamo kingdom, and Sukuna got the curses to live in peace in the forest. A good win-win. Unfortunately, King Zen'in didn't consider a minor detail. Sukuna kept looking at him, annoyed.

“The forest of curses? Why should I care about that shitty place?”

“Because you are the king of curses?” The human king raised his eyebrow.

“Because I rule over them, not because I care about them.” Sukuna crossed his arms, annoyed at being wasted of his time with idiotic proposals.

King Toji's nostrils flared as he noticed the small problem in his proposal. He had thought wrong when he thought Sukuna cared about his curses, but that wasn't the case. He didn't care about anything but himself. He had underestimated him. The king of curses was much worse than he believed.

“If you don't make that deal with me, you'll leave me no choice but to take what I want by force,” Toji said.

“Good luck with the Impossible Belt,” Sukuna defended.

“If Commander Naoya can cross it, any other Zen'in can.” Toji smiled, proud of his troops.

Sukuna squeezed the glass, but stopped as soon as the porcelain creaked under his fingers. It turns out that he had also underestimated the Zen'in. He had always thought that Commander Naoya came to Sukuna's kingdom by sea, but now it turned out that he also crossed it by land, like you and your family. How come he was just finding out that his greatest defense was failing in such an embarrassing way? The first thing he would do upon returning home was to find out why the defenses were so low.

"What is there to think?" Toji leaned in to speak directly to him. "Take the deal, it's the easiest route for both of us. I'll get what I want and leave you alone."

"How much of a foul do you think I am?" Sukuna asked with an offended smile. "Once you obtain your alliance with the Kamo, what guarantees me that you won't attack me afterward?"

"You need some trust issues to solve," Toji sneered.

"You eventually lose everything when you trust," Sukuna replied before taking his glass.

“I can't offer you anything more than a promise,” Toji looked him straight in the eyes. “You can choose. Do we walk hand in hand, or do I have to go against you?”

Sukuna smiled offended at the threat, and Toji imitated the gesture when he understood his clear answer. It was already official what the final decision was. The black-haired man poured the last round of sake. He had already lost count of how many he had drunk so far.

“May the best sorcerer win,” Toji toasted, clearly referring to himself. Sukuna smiled at him.

“You are seeing him.” Sukuna elegantly gulped the light alcohol to the sound of Toji's glass crashing against the floor.

The dance followed its natural rhythm. People danced, ate and established political relationships that you could barely understand. This dance was very different from the ones you were used to. They always used to be in smaller mansions, people were already drunk by this point and Yorozu was making out with some military man in the dark hallways. King Gojo was gently caressing Queen Nozomi’s belly as they talked about their trip to the kingdom. He already wanted to dance with you, but King Nanami forced him to greet the Zen’in first out of politeness. “Sukuna hasn’t come back yet.” You looked worriedly at the hallway where he had disappeared.

“Excuse me, miss.” King Nanami approached your side, pulling you away from your thoughts. “I know this is none of my business, but if you want to escape from King Sukuna, I will help you. Just give the order and I will move earth and sea to keep you safe.” He whispered in your ear.

That was the first time you had been offered help in a long time. You stared at King Nanami, dumbfounded. Despite his serious and reserved face, there was a hint of assertiveness in his voice. Something that made you trust him, that intrigue you hadn't felt in a long time.

"I couldn't. Sukuna would start a stealthy search for my head." You excused yourself, although you were afraid that would be the case if you dared to even think about it.

Nanami thought about his options. "I have a mansion on No Man's Island. I could help you get there without any problem."

You remembered that Sukuna had told you about the war that took place to conquer No Man's Island, and that it was now a vacation land that was difficult to access. You were sure that even he would look for you there too if you were to lose sight of him.

"Thank you for the offer, but I really must return to Sukuna's kingdom. Not for the king, but for my family," you answered, thinking of Mrs. Inoue and Mr. Wasuke.

“If you change your mind, I'll be here to serve you.” Nanami accepted your answer.

“Hey, Nanamin, stop flirting with my lady.” King Gojo pushed him in a friendly manner to take your hand. “Let's dance, the night is young.”

“Be nice to her, King Gojo.” King Nanami told him before greeting Queen Nozomi.

King Gojo had an impressive way of commanding the room with just his presence. As soon as they went down the stairs that led to the dance floor, the orchestra changed songs and the people with their mouths agape moved out of the way to give him all the space in the world. They stood in the center and bowed to introduce themselves. Their white clothes fell like light feathers as he smiled at you, excited to take possession of you. To the beat of the soft piano, you slowly approached. He held you tightly by the waist and extended your arm to put you in position.

There was something strange in the air as you danced. When you danced with Commander Naoya, everyone looked at you badly, but now that you were dancing with Gojo, it felt like you had shocked everyone. Although maybe it was just the change of dance partner, it was as if there was something you couldn't quite understand.

"Maybe this is none of my business, but how can you see with the blindfold on?" You asked to make some conversation, it was the best way to get the answers you wanted.

"Only the weak use their eyes to see." Gojo answered with a flirtatious smile. "I don't need my eyes to know what your body is like." His hand moved nimbly down your back as a shiver ran down your spine. "I don't need my eyes to know that you are a fine woman." He brought his face closer to your neck to breathe in your perfume. "I don't need my eyes to know how soft your skin is." He lightly bit your earlobe, causing you to gulp as your face turned the same color as your dress. Gojo smiled as he caught that. “I don’t need my eyes to know you’re nervous.”

“How could I not be when you’re acting like that in front of everyone?” You asked, avoiding his face.

“How could I not be, when you deserve for me to be on my knees in front of you?” He answered your question. “And not exactly to pray to you.” He purred before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“What’s wrong with this guy?!” You wondered, flabbergasted. He was so blunt that it even seemed offensive to you, but something inside you wanted him to continue disrespecting you. “No! You’re a spy and you’re engaged!” You scolded yourself as you came back to reality.

The song ended and a round of applause enveloped them. The next song immediately began to play, enclosing them in the crowd of people. You were excited to get back on the track with the others, but Satoru pulled you by the arm. You didn't know exactly how, but everything stopped around you. As if it were a game of statues, everything fell silent. There was no music, dancing steps or conversations. You turned your gaze to King Satoru, and he gave you a smile as if you were alone in the world. He pulled you with him towards the nearest hallway to get away from everyone.

Queen Nozomi quickly noticed your disappearance. She analyzed the situation cautiously. King Gojo seemed very interested in you, but why? There was only one way to find out. She let out a sigh of tiredness due to her pregnancy, caressing her belly with a certain protective air.

"Commander Naoya, you know what to do," the queen ordered the man resting next to her.

"Yes, my queen," he answered seriously before disappearing like the wind.

The sound came back, and you regained your balance suddenly as soon as he closed the door behind you. You ran through the halls like two naughty children, escaping from their parents to play away from everyone. You climbed several stairs and walked through several candle-lit hallways as if the king knew exactly where to go. Gojo took you to a huge room that was illuminated only by the power of the full moon on the huge skylight. The signs couldn't be more obvious. Targets, cursed weapons displayed on the walls and sandbags suspended above the floor. You quickly deduced it was a training room.

"I thought you would like some privacy," Satoru told you as he walked around the place as if it were his home. "The truth is that I wanted to keep dancing," you thought, disappointed.

"Yes, thank you," you lied. "Can we be here?" You asked when you saw that all the candles were out.

"I am King Gojo Satoru, special guest. The only thing that limits me is my imagination,” he commented with certain superiority as he approached the wall that displayed several daggers with different edges.

Besides being a mortal enemy of your king, something was not right with the way he acted. You did not feel comfortable like you did with King Nanami. That did not mean he was a bad person, but you had to be alert in case he wanted to take advantage of you. You remembered the dagger that rested on your thigh. You blushed as you remembered the ghost trail he left behind.

“Why don't you entertain me with your technique?” Gojo asked you before giving you one of the daggers.

“Excuse me? Technique?” You stuttered, almost cutting yourself with the blade from the shock.

“Yes, you have a very interesting technique like your sister's,” Gojo smiled at you.

“Umm... I don't have any technique, you must be confused.” You tried to return the dagger, but he didn't receive it.

Gojo removed the white blindfold from his eyes, revealing his beautiful crystalline lagoons. There was that feeling of exposure, despite being dressed, it was as if you were baring your soul. Gojo noticed that you had an enormous amount of cursed energy just like Yorozu, but instead of flowing through your body, it focused on your eyes, just like his.

“I've never been so sure in my life, you have a technique and a very good one if you ask me.” The king put his blindfold back on, but still managed to see your face in shock. “You didn't know?”

“Do I look like I knew?” You asked with a certain sarcasm that came out of your chest. Gojo laughed.

“I think I'm getting it now,” Gojo smiled in a moment of eureka. “When I told your sister that she had an impressive technique, she also made fun of me. She told me that sorcerers didn't exist and that I was crazy.”

“Oh, Yorozu,” you thought sadly. In her defense, that was the upbringing they had grown up with. Sorcerers were just legendary characters who were supposed to one day come to protect them from the tyranny of Sukuna Ryomen, but they remained as simple myths. You realized that everything was real once you met Uraume, and it became concrete with everything that Kenjaku has taught you about sorcery.

“Where we come from, Sukuna took it upon himself to get rid of all possible sorcerers, so all the humans in Sukuna's kingdom don't know that they exist. They are our hope, but they have never come to save us.” You explained with some sadness.

“It's because sorcerers only kill curses, not save people,” he explained.

“Isn't it the same thing?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You'll realize the difference when you become one.” Gojo took your hand and guided you towards the targets. “I will baptize you.”

You already understood why you didn't trust him. Unlike Nanami, who tried to help you out of your situation. King Gojo, the most powerful sorcerer of this generation, didn't offer you anything. The fact that you were Sukuna's servant suited him well, as if it were normal. Gojo placed you about 20 meters from a target, like when you practiced archery.

“Throw the dagger towards the center of the target,” he ordered you.

You had never thrown a dagger in your life, but there is always a first time for everything, right? You handled it by the handle, took a deep breath and threw it with all the strength you could muster. The dagger traced an erratic arc in the air, spinning clumsily before falling to the ground with a metallic crash. The echo of the impact resonated longer than you would have liked. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at that terrible attempt. Gojo mocked mercilessly, but with his characteristic carefree tone, he handed you another dagger.

“Now, pay close attention,” Gojo stood behind you and took your head so that you would direct your gaze forward. He corrected your posture by pushing your back and grabbed your chin tightly. “Focus on the center and when you feel that you are in it, throw the dagger. Forget everything that is around you, ignore any distraction. The only thing that matters now is you and your target. Ignore everything else. My touch, my voice, the moon, everything…”

Your eyes sharpened, focusing at the center of the target with precision. The yellow dot was the only thing that mattered to you now. You had experienced this before. The trance, the need to do something, the focus. The ice block, the blows to Mahito, the arrow in Naoya's back, and your sister's head. You pushed that out of your head to focus on what mattered now. You exhaled and threw the dagger when all you could feel was the yellow dot.

The dagger flew through the air. You squealed when you saw that you threw it too far to the left, and it was going to end up on the ground again, but it changed its path in the air like a boomerang until it stuck perfectly in the yellow center. “That's physically impossible” you thought confused.

“Like your sister, the nature of your technique is object manipulation. Yours is simpler but no less powerful.” Gojo explained as you picked up the daggers used. “Your technique works like this: If you focus one hundred percent on your target, the object to which you transmit your cursed energy is destined to hit the target one hundred percent of the time.”

“Even if my aim is terrible?” You asked confused.

“That's what makes your technique interesting. You could throw a dagger in the opposite direction, and it would deviate to the right path if you were very focused on your target.” He explained.

You looked at your hands and smiled to yourself. You finally had something worthy to offer your king beyond your skills as a housewife and a womb to give him an heir. You had a technique, you were a sorceress. You would make the most of this power.

Sukuna and Toji staggered back to the grand ball. It was past midnight, but the night was still young. The nobles were still dancing, but with their left feet from all the extravagant alcohol they had consumed. Queen Nozomi interrupted her conversation with King Nanami to give her husband a kiss. Sukuna scanned the great hall. It should be easy to find his girl over the sea of ​​white fabric, but it wasn't. Not a single red sequin was to be seen in the place. This was the exact reason why he had chosen that color.

“Where is my servant?” Sukuna roared in annoyance.

“Don’t worry, she’s with King Gojo,” King Nanami replied.

Although he was a king used to dealing with curses for as long as he could remember, he had never seen eyes as terrifying as King Sukuna’s fiery rubies. An icy chill slid down his spine, leaving him shaking like a leaf in the middle of a storm. Before he could react, one of Sukuna’s claws closed tightly around the collar of his shirt, like a silent but lethal warning.

“Where is she?!” He demanded.

You took a deep breath and stared at the center of the target again. Your eyebrows drew closer, you stuck out the tip of your tongue and your eyes were glued to that fucking yellow that called your name. You were about to throw the dagger, but King Gojo grabbed your shoulders. You lost your concentration as soon as you let go of the dagger. It flew until it got stuck into the edge of the target.

"Damn..." You muttered.

"That's what happens when you lose concentration." Gojo playfully patted your shoulders. "It's a unique technique and takes a long time to perfect." He gave you an encouraging smile.

"Thank you for taking the time to teach me." You bowed to show your gratitude.

"Anything for a beautiful colleague." He winked at you.

"Colleague?”

“Of course! You're a sorceress now! You're one of us!” Gojo dramatically threw his arms out to welcome you into his wonderful world. “I'm sure you'll have a bright future ahead of you and, maybe, you could even be the one to defeat King Sukuna.”

“Me? Defeat the king?”, you thought, mouth agape. It wasn't possible that someone who had just discovered his powers could stand up to King Sukuna. An entire nation of sorcerers couldn't stand up to him, how would you be capable of something like that?

“That would be insane,” you whispered as you turned around to drop the subject, but King Gojo grabbed your arm and pulled you into his body.

“I've never been more sane in my entire life, young lady.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek tenderly. His face was the personification of a snowy night. His fingertips traced the curve of your warm cheek, and his index finger traced your jaw. A flirtatious smile escaped his lips as he realized you were enthralled under his touch.

“Marry me,” he proposed.

“What?!” You asked, offended.

You tore your face away from his touch, but he pulled you back towards him. He spun you on your heels until you were pinned against the nearest wall. He placed one of his long hands next to your head and moved closer until he was mere inches from your nose.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best way to ask,” Gojo reflected on his actions.

“N-no, not at all,” you stammered. “I-I’m s-sorry, but I can’t accept.”

“Is it because of King Sukuna?” Gojo inquired. “I’m stronger than him. I'm willing to tear you away from him for your hand in matrimony.”

“That would start a war!” You warned.

“So what? I'll do anything to have you by my side.”

“But you don't know anything about me…”

“It's a good thing we have a lifetime to do it.” Gojo leaned towards you, getting dangerously close until his nose caught that peculiar scent, one he hadn't perceived in a long time. “Your sweet lips don't deserve this horrible taste, Satoru.”

His thin lips crashed against yours. His hidden eyes expanded as he realized it was the same taste he longed to taste every night. Bitter, burnt, greasy… It was just as he remembered it. He pushed his body against yours to deepen that sensation he once thought lost.

Your hands went straight to his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he was taller and stronger than you. You still didn't understand how you had gotten into this situation, but you had to stop him at all costs. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were only with him to get information of any kind, not for him to shove his tongue down your throat in search of something you didn't even know you had. Your eyes widened as soon as you felt his huge erection on your stomach, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse. It got worse.

"Get down." Gojo warned before suddenly pulling you to the ground.

You fell to the ground with Gojo on top of you. Your mind was barely trying to understand what was happening until you saw the huge figure on the other side of the room. "Now he's going to kill me" you thought as you saw Sukuna with the face of a thousand demons and two of his fingers in front of him. Dust fell on your back, you looked up to realize there was a large cut in the wall at the height of your neck. "He almost killed me" you thought with teary eyes. This was your end.

“It seems your meeting with King Toji is over.” Gojo commented before getting up to greet his enemy, completely ignoring that you were still on the ground. “I wanted to meet you sooner, but your servant offered to keep me company.” “You’re not helping me, King Gojo,” you scolded him in your mind.

“I’m glad. She’ll also keep you company in the afterlife when I’m done with you two.” Sukuna said before giving you a murderous look that made you look away in shame.

It’s been a long time since he saw that expression on your face, not since the hunt. Your lower lip was trembling, and your body was frozen. His body was tense, he no longer knew if it was because of the betrayal or the tears falling from your eyes. You were scared, or rather, terrified, but that didn’t matter, this was something he had to do.

“No one threatens me and lives to tell.” Gojo smiled before attacking him head on.

Sukuna Ryomen. The one and only, the myth, the legend. Everything and nothing was known about him, an enigma shrouded in fame and obscurity. Now he was there, facing the sorcerer king who was afraid of nothing, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity to understand him better, even if it was through the clash of forces. Sukuna didn't hesitate for a moment; he responded to the attack with a fury that only a curse of his caliber could unleash.

The sorcerer and the terrible curse faced each other hand to hand in a duel that seemed straight out of an epic. You could barely follow the speed of their movements; their attacks were an unstoppable whirlwind, but to you, the outcome was as clear as water. With impeccable precision, Gojo launched a blow directly into Sukuna's stomach, sending him flying to the other end of the room with the force of a hurricane. Before Sukuna could react, Gojo, lightning fast, had already appeared behind him, ready to continue the battle.

“I’m going to show off just because the lady is watching,” Gojo whispered to him with a proud smile. Sukuna tried to elbow him, but it disappeared completely.

Gojo’s quick movements were beginning to deeply irritate Sukuna. He was like an annoying mosquito, slippery and impossible to swat. Although Gojo had a thinner build, that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Each blow was calculated to aim for the vital organs, forcing Sukuna to stay alert.

Intending to finish quickly, Sukuna tried to slash as he always did: direct and lethal. But something strange was happening; his claws were unable to pierce the barrier protecting Gojo. Frustrated, he threw a random slash that passed dangerously close to you, tearing the skirt of your dress. Any further, and you could have lost your leg. Panic took over you. “I have to get out of here,” you thought as fear chilled your body.

Meanwhile, Gojo, with an almost theatrical grace, landed softly on one of the ruined platforms. His eyes shone with satisfaction. He had seen enough. Sukuna was everything they said: strong, fast and skilled enough to keep up with him. Perfect. He had accomplished his goal for the night, and now it was up to him to decide what his next move would be.

“Look, I don’t think it’s fair the young lady sees more of this fight. Why don’t we call it even?” Gojo proposed, but only received a frustrated grunt from his great opponent. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Gojo smiled. “See you later, beautiful.” He said goodbye to you before disappearing.

“That idiot left me with him!” You thought in surprise. You were about to get up and run away, but you saw Sukuna walking like a tiger savoring its prey. You thought about taking the dagger from your thigh and defending yourself. You stared at his exposed neck. “What are you thinking?” You couldn’t kill your king. Tears kept falling down your face. You couldn’t do anything to hurt him after he had treated you so lovingly. You remembered his attentive gazes, his warm hugs, his soft kisses in what seemed like your last seconds of life. You loved him so much that you couldn’t hurt him, even if it was self-defense. You preferred a thousand times that he ended your life than you ended his.

You closed your eyes, thinking that you had reached the end of the road. Of all the reasons, he would kill you for adultery. Infidelity against you. Oh, life is funny. What was the taste of death? Bitter and short, or peaceful but elongated? You were about to find out… One, two, three seconds passed. Nothing. You opened one eye and only saw a hand stretched out in front of you. Sukuna was offering you his help to get up with a distressed look.

The blindfold fell from your eyes, and you saw the pawns you could play with. A simple glance at the board and you already knew how to win a game that seemed lost from the start. The stroke of luck was so strong it almost knocked you out. You were going to take the game seriously once and for all. The plan, which you had started a month ago, was finally bearing fruit. Tonight, you would return home.

“Are you okay?” He asked you.

Sukuna brought one of his hands closer to help you up. Clearly, you were scared, it was the first time you saw him in the middle of combat. Although the bitterness of defeat embarrassed his throat in a lump that was impossible to undo, it was much worse to see you cry because of his murderous instinct. Your eyes saw his hand, but you completely ignored his gesture of kindness and got up on your own, shaking the dust off your dress.

“You almost killed me…” You said with a shaky voice, you clenched your skirt in frustration.

“I only did it so that idiot would leave you alone.” Sukuna growled, they were in enemy lands, there was no time for drama. “I knew he would save you one way or another.”

“What if that wasn't the case? What if he had saved just himself? My head would be on the floor right now.” You burst into tears, feeling the end of your neck.

“If you weren't making out with him, this wouldn't have happened.” Sukuna gave you a reproachful look in order to calm you down.

“Ah! So now it's my fault?” Your offended eyes lashed out at him like whips, as if he had kicked your dog. “You put me in this sexy red dress that highlights every curve in my body and expected no man to approach me?!” You exclaimed, transforming your sadness into anger.

Sukuna ground his molars at that statement, but you were right. His plan for you to wear a red dress to make you stand out had backfired to him. You stood out so much that all the men were looking at you. More attractive men, kind men, normal men…

“Still, you shouldn’t have kissed that idiot!” Sukuna roared in an attempt to silence your screams, but it only turned the conversation into a heated argument.

“For your information, I was just doing what you asked when he was the one who kissed me! I tried to back off, but he looked like he wanted a bite of the hot stuff you made!” You complained again.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t be loyal to me for one night.” He scoffed angrily, crossing his arms twice.

“Loyalty? You want to talk about loyalty? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you since I met you. I washed your body for you, ate human flesh for you, jumped out of a tree for you, studied for you, trained for you. Not only that, but I killed my own sister for you, dammit!” You exclaimed in frustration. The lump in Sukuna’s throat tightened further. “And how do you repay me? You ignored me, walked away, and if it hadn't been for the shameless letter, you wouldn't have asked me to marry me.” You decided to admit your mastercard.

Your words sank into his heart like sharp daggers, revealing a truth that, deep down, he had always suspected, but which was now completely exposed. The way you decided to bring that confession to light, at such a critical moment, took him completely by surprise. That letter that he read every night, that he kept as an intimate and tormenting secret, finally had a face. And that face was none other than his beloved.

“So... you're the one who feels that way about me...” Sukuna stammered, forgetting why he was upset in the first place.

“He is so down bad.” You avoided letting out a proud smile to continue with your act. You had turned the situation around. You went from the king being about to kill you, to wanting a hug, like an anxious dog waiting for a bone. The manipulation tactics you had learned from your mother and Yorozu did serve some purpose in the end.

“I’m not sure anymore…” You sighed, shedding another tear. ‘Stretch’. “I don’t know if I can love someone who was about to decapitate me,” you complained quietly.

Sukuna had faced everything: cursed techniques, lethal weapons, stones thrown in fury, deadly poisons and poisoned fruits. His body had resisted each attack without yielding, but nothing prepared him for the devastating impact of the words of the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand. It was as if she squeezed it hard, until it exploded in an invisible but scorching torrent of blood.

He clenched his fists, trembling with rage and frustration. This was exactly what he had tried to avoid from the beginning: becoming this pathetic and vulnerable being, trapped in the abyss of feelings. This bond, this weakness, connected him to the humanity he despised, and it infuriated him more than any physical wound.

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought you to the ball.” Sukuna whined, returning to the original conversation.

“Sorry…” You blew your nose, earning the red glare you could barely read. “Sorry for enjoying the attention of a man who doesn’t want to kill me.” You said before threatening to leave the room, dragging the poorly cut train of your dress.

Sukuna followed you with his gaze, thinking he would go after you later after calming down, so as not to cause more scenes in front of all the other nobles. After all, he wasn’t ready for a war.

“Another thing.” You called out to him as you opened the door. “King Gojo proposed to me. I told him no…” You confessed before seeing him for the last time. Sukuna didn’t even flinch at that. “… Don’t make me regret it.” ‘Pull’. You closed the door behind you as you watched his eyes go from frustration to hope.

You made your way into the dimly lit hallway, where the extinguished candles left a trail of smoke barely visible in the air. You had overcome the most difficult part of the plan; now all that was left was to escape. With bated breath, your eyes searched for an exit or a staircase that would take you away from the third floor. Each step resonated with a disturbing echo, reminding you that danger was not yet behind you.

“You have him eating out of your hand, don’t you?” That danger asked behind you.

You had left a demon behind, only to encounter an even more fearsome one. Commander Naoya emerged from the shadows, claiming his territory with an imposing presence. The moonlight outlined his sharp eyes and the impeccable cut of his elegant military suit. Your heart raced, invaded by a wave of adrenaline, as you realized he had heard everything.

“Is that how you do it? You give them a piece of yourself and then leave them wanting more?” He paced around you, a shark swimming in circles to corner his delicious prey. “Looks like you and I are more alike than you think.” He smirked at you before offering you his hand.

“You and I are not alike. I’m doing this for a greater good,” you commented before turning your disdain to his hand. “What are you up to?”

“I’ll help you escape,” he offered.

“Why?”

“I know this castle better than the back of my hand, I’m your best bet.” He evaded the question.

“I don't trust you.” You ignored his hand.

“As you wish, idiot. For all I care, you could jump out the window.” Naoya crossed his arms and ignored you, offended that you didn’t want his help.

“Do the windows open?” You saw that this castle didn't have the giant windows like the ones you were used to. These were small windows with handles to open them, so the air would circulate better.

"Of course the windows open, stupid," Naoya replied. After a few seconds of silence, he looked back at you, but you were no longer there. His green eyes widened when he saw you were opening the window.

"Hey, sorry!" He ran towards you to stop you from committing suicide, but he didn't reach you in time.

You threw yourself out the window, letting the abyss swallow you up. A déjà vu of the day of the hunt was drawn before your eyes, intertwining with the shadows of your nightmares. The contrast between the tenderness of your hero and the ruthless edge of your villain mixed in a mosaic of chaotic emotions. Was this the last thing you would see before you died?

The void seemed eternal, until the roar of adrenaline broke the moment. You belched out a scream that summoned the rainbow dragon Kenjaku had lent you. Its majestic body unfurled itself in the air, catching your fall with precision. You felt the controlled impact as you landed on its back, your back briefly sinking into its soft, dense fur.

You clung to it, allowing vertigo to give way to euphoria in front of the starry night. A wide smile lit up your face as you straightened up, confidently taking a seat on the creature. Your plan had worked perfectly, and victory tasted like freedom. Now, with the wind cutting through your face and phase one completed, you headed home to prepare the next move in your strategy.

“Thank you!” You shouted to Naoya who watched you open-mouthed from the window as you rode away on a dragon that had emerged from your body.

Naoya gritted his molars as he watched you escape in true sorceress chaotic style. He was frustrated, but he couldn't hate you. That had been extravagantly cool. “Damn,” he thought as he realized he had fallen into the same game you had King Sukuna entangled in. His cheeks flushed as he watched the girl who stole his heart ride through the air on a sublime curse.

“DAMN YOU, YOU CRAZY BITCH!” He exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

THE UPDATE DATE WILL BE SUNDAYS FROM NOW DUE TO PROOFREADING! THX :3

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Masterlist.

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[adoregojo]

★- haunted by the trails of you.

a/n: here's some more angst i had in drafts and now I'm setting it free. wanted more pain but this what yall are getting for now d: (potentially getting a part two)

summary: their first anniversary without you, and you'd still be haunting them. !! gn reader!! characters: isagi, reo, rin. warnings: men. hurt/barely an comfort, the word 'vomit', blood mentions in rin's part, appear of other characters. perhaps heavy angst?

isagi: it was at his own home. for what he can fathom, isagi isn't considered as someone who's hooked on the past. at least that's what he pinned his head to. what had chronicles should've been a lesson, something that'll help him move forward, a memory that'll get him through to his feet again.

once the past had been written, there was no undoing. only exceptions and take the moral out of it.

sometimes isagi wished he had tugged on that enough as much as he tugged his heart to yours.

he was about to send himself a clout. has he learned nothing? why can't he draw a clear line without the ghost of you obsessing in every corner of his life? so instead, he botches his hair to untidy navy-blue locks flying out of place, mumbling cusses to none other than himself.

He bet he looked like a madman, uttering loathes undertone within every step upon a stair he took. He swore he spotted a middle aged lady covering her son's ears in horror. maybe he wasn't muttering as low as he thought.

it was saturday, in which isagi takes a day off to greet his parents from time to time. and he wasn't gonna cancel that over some feelings he might've got the wrong end of the stick about, it was probably just lingering lust and affection he had for you, but I'll past. clinging to the mere possibility and ignoring the ache that remains for too long than intended.

swirling the keys with his bare hands, isagi can view the frigid smoke of his breath appearing with every puff he let out. the tips of his fingers and knuckles were embarrassing standing out an angry shade of red, he forgot his gloves, again ,recalling: yoichi never really had to bat an eye when it comes to gloves. he'll even do it on purpose since you wouldn't think twice before launching yours to his frosty hands, while interlocking your hands with the other one.

now that he mentioned it, he always recollect how futile of an attempt it was. because the back of his hand will always remain polar, but at that time, it didn't carried a feather. he didn't really mind freezing to death if it meant I'll be in your arms. then he'll die any day.

isagi remains stationary, until his forehead rests the irony of his house door. he didn't know if he was deeply disappointed in himself, or just drowned by the sweet bygone days. gabbling something about how an idiot he was before taking a deep lungful of air and finally opening the door.

flinging his shoes to gods knows where, at this state even his mother's berating wouldn't budge a bone in him, yeah, this is how bad it was.

to his astonishment, there were no trails of his parents. isagi called, shouting once, twice. and gave up on the third time. he jogs around to the kitchen era, like expected: a dangling note covering some plate, informing him that they went out and they'll be back before dinner. 

isagi just let out a defeated sigh, an obvious pessimistic wave looming over him. he was genuinely hoping to spend a family-time right away, and something to divert him away from the wraith of you.

a part of him wondered, what answer could he hand his parents, breaking the fact that you two were no longer together. his parents always loved you, adored you even. they'd definitely be shattered, he'll just muddle it by saying that you two drew apart till an ultimate downfall drilled up a hole in your relationship, leading to a break up. they’ll buy it, right?

blindly, isagi carried out the plat, slamming it flatly against the wooden table of the living room. making himself comfortable on the couch that held on the glimpse of his childhood, it was a pleasant to be at home again, and one of a great distraction.

he needed it.. anything to sway him away from the remainder of what name of this day earned..

from the corner of his eye, he spotted a second note. scoffing at himself isagi gets a grasp on it, living on the thought it might've been his parents requesting him to do chores, or just asking him to take extra care of himself. 

isagi consulted it, even when a part of him begged him not to.

‘dear, yocchan. we really hope you'll be the one to read this, but if not! hello yoichi’s partner, that's quite embarrassing if you're reading this hahaha. but anyway, we figured that today is your two anniversary, isn't that just great? We remember just yesterday they were being introduced to us for the first time. What a good time to be alive, but anyway. There's some surprise cake for the two of you to share! Happy anniversary, you lovebirds.- your mother (in law).”

‘don't get too carried away please! - your father (in law).”

isagi flouts, bitterly. so sorely that all the rock-hard grip of his hand went straight to poor paper, ripping it apart to fall into small chunks. the stomach-bug swirl, not the one with the butterflies plopping in the depths of his stomach, swarming with to define a new level of bliss. but a disgusting ache of venom mobbing, making him want to vomit in an instant. 

if it wasn't for his neighbors, isagi would've outcry his lungs out of frustration. but he wasn't on the field, where his anger planted. Now it's just a sad smile etching on his features. 

and maybe a drip of a few tears..

how long were you planning on haunting him for..

reo: he had to delete it.. for the longest period, reo had never been so glued on what he busted by his own hands, words and ego. he had no one to blame but himself, and yet no amount of strength that earth granted him, no matter how the sky have bore in tears gleaming the ground, a pool of agony cries pleading for him to do it.

all that and he’d still struggle to press the delete button. He just couldn't.

“man, just delete it already.” chigiri cried out, slamming his palms against the skin of his forehead. He was tired. and he wasn't even getting paid to deal with this shit.

“it's easier for you to say it, you don't get it.” reo sassed back, trudging inches away from the redhead who's eyes twitched in disbelief. 

nagi and chigiri一well, mostly chigiri, have been summoned by a cry for help from their shared friend. just for the end of the world to be him trying to delete the pictures and videos of you and him, his ex that lived in his head rent free. 

it was a wretched sight to see, his eyes were tearing up while scrolling through your memories together. chigiri一god’s greatest soldier, was really, really doing everything he can to encourage reo back on his feet. It was like helping a spineless creature to straighten up. 

it's quite impressive, he can use all his abilities on soccer pitches, give his best assists, be the heart, the mind and the soul of the field. Yet behind the plate was a completely different person, a hopeless guy curled up in a ball of your blanket that carried most of your left cologne, and sobbing till the sunrise. and today was a special show, he was absolutely shattered because your scent was slowly vanishing. 

all chigiri can do is pinch the bridge of his nose in foiling, “listen, how about we go out or something? there's a nearby place we can get lunch and-”

“they used to love that restaurant¦” reo whines, shoving his phone into the redhead face, it carried a picture of you smiling blissfully and unaware, cheeks rife with food. “they're.. cute, so cute it makes me want to die.” falling backwards on the silky duvet of the queen-sized bed. 

“Please don't, I still need my monthly allowance on genshin.” the one time nagi decided to finally say something, it had to be this. and chigiri never wanted to zip up someone's mouth so badly.

“you keep on stabbing yourself in the throat, you dumbass. if you can't do it then I'll do it for you.” stretching out his arm, opening up his palms for reo to hand over the phone and get this over with already.

in an instant, the phone was being embraced tightly to his chest, “no! I can do it myself, I just need some time," Chigiri just raised his hands in surrender, mumbling a quick ‘whatever’ as he jumped out the bed, leaving the extra space for his friend to grieve, alone.

it was a miracle that his tears still remain un-parched. Every photo he scroll through, the lump in his throat narrows painfully. clinching his lips upwards every time he crossed over while you were smiling, it hurts so good. He doesn't recognize whatever the knot in his stomach was reducing in sorrow or ecstatic.

he wasn't trashing any of those, he couldn't find it in his heart too. instead of criticizing himself of what he should've said to make you stay, what could've he done to swoon your heart instead of fleeting it. you'll keep on tip-toeing around his heartstrings and he'll let you without a charge.

he squeaked in his pillow, he just kept on bruising himself, torturing himself by the dim memory of what the two of you had once. something that not even money could regain or even soothe on. he yearned for one more kiss, one more embrace, one more chance to get a glimpse of you and he'll die a happy man, that's a lie, he'll misses you even after death.

he wished for you to come and haunt him, eat him to bits. but it was like he was the one haunting the crumbs of you.

on the middle of his groaning mess, an amber eyes staring sharply at him, his figure casting a shadow over his state. “here, drink up.” nonchalant, he handed him a random juice he ‘eeny, meeny’ his way to. reo accepted the drink, his arm sluggishly taking it. chigiri swore he was about to crack the glass over his head if he wouldn't stop this pitiful little act of his.

“why are you even this hardcore sad? you were never like this in the last weeks.”

“it's their anniversary, but not anymore I guess.” nagi shrugged, still too focused on the screen of his phone to pay the slightest amount of attention. turning a blind eye when reo flinches a bit at his truthful words 

“have anyone told you you're a terrible human being?” 

one sip, a second one. and his lilac eyes were watering for a million time. “they used to love this drink.” he whispered.

“i genuinely hope you choke on it.” 

rin: it got so bad, he talked to sae about it.. running a few years backwards, if you told the sixteen years old itoshi rin he'd be seeking his own deadbeat of a brother to vent he'd spit out in your face with no second thought.

and if he could, he would've. because rin was rethinking his life choices, taking a step back every second yet taking two ahead then comprehending once again. and now there was no going back, what was between him and the urgent fate was a wooden door. 

his hands buried deep in his pockets instead of making an attempt to knock. he found gazing at his pair of shoes much more entertaining. 

he didn't have it in his head to think straight, not when you clouded over like an angry storm, all he can do is take it and let your teardrop roll down his face, or maybe they were his own tears, he couldn't savvy it. 

after a deep lungful of air, rin thrust his forward, just an inch away, only to stop briskly. sae? really? just how desperate is he? very. he come to cuss himself for counting you as the one and only person he apostrophizes with. if only he’d listen when you would rant about him approving his social skills, he should've listened instead plugging his ears. He wished he listened to a lot of things you said..

in a rush, the door unlocked in a swift. almost making him funk backwards, unraveling the sight of his older brother, standing unimpressed. and before rin could speak a word, sae took the lead. 

“you know I could see your shadow casting under my doorstep, right?” 

Rin clicks his tongue in annoyance, and when he doesn't reply, the reddish head moves to the side, and rin steers his way in. shutting the door behind him, sae jog away, letting him take off his shoes. not even a proper welcome, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

the apartment was quite tidy, a strong aroma loomed underneath his nose. Despite that, it was awkwardly dull, not even ghosts would bother haunting it. rin takes a seat in a solo couch, fumbling his fingers in a bothersome way, the silence was a deadline, not anything he wasn't used to.

It was just the first time rin had come here, by himself. without an actual family required to stick to the back. 

or without you.

unintentionally, Rin's leg keeps thrusting. a bad habit of his when the tension gets thick. every passing second he berates himself even further, damn him for having only one path to seek solace in, for allowing only one soul to soothe over his frail heart, for authorizing only one embrace to delay him.

and damn you for carving open his heart. just to leave him to bleed.

the echoing steps of sae cut his strails of thoughts. settling down his cup of hot tea. rin raised a brow at the uncivil manner. “you didn't ask for one.” his brother shrugs calmly, oh he was driving him nuts with this unchanged attitude. 

breathe in, rin.

reverberating voice called, so he obeys. straighten his pouster. “I wanted to talk to you about something. it's important.” 

“I can tell. and your sidekick is nowhere to be found, did they finally ditch you?”

his hands clutching up in a makeshift ball, rin says nothing.

“oh, so they did?” sae blows a few times over the overheated cup, taking a sip then uttering something under his breath. “Well, that's unfortunate.” adding another cube of sugar as he retorted. 

rin only got something out of this, that his brother didn't give a single fuck. and it drove him to the edge.

“You can at least pretend that you care.”

“never said I didn't.”

“you didn't have to, it's fucking showing.” rin seethed, his clenched hand striking the table balance, making the sugar cubes fall out of place. his anger was collapsing even the sweetest floras.

that doesn't nuge sae the slightest, but makes him frowns his brows a bit, because he was the one who had to sweep that off later.

the tension was solid and bulky, and Rin refused to break eye contact with the equal hues. Daring him to say something, anything. Yet he took it as a challenge, like he always does. The only way he communicates with sae is by beating him, proving himself. He'll die on that hill, even if it killed him itself. even if it has killed you already.

he knew this was a stupid idea, he should've just rotted in bed, he should've kept on living in the repeated circle of misery. He should've just lived up with every rush of breeze rustling his mistakes over and over, where he could've sworn that it was your voice.

breath, rin.

he was fucking trying. 

“So what do you want me to do about it? be your wingman and pair you together again?” 

“or, you could just say nothing. listening is enough.”

after a moment of silence, sae shoulders ease up. a guster pointed for him to keep going. so rin dose, he rants and rants like he had the time of the world right in his palms. It was mostly about you, how you were something that became his everything, how he should've stopped you like he wanted to, how he let you be driven away like he always does, how he should've apologized like he was supposed to. 

blustring about ‘what the if’s’ and what would've happened if he just.. he loved you like you loved him.. if only he tried. he can't blame it on his immense ego, his lack of communication, the digged hole on his soul that you bleeded to fill, you gave all your flesh till there was nothing left but bones.

he could've rebuilt the broken pieces of your heart, but they were too sharp to hold. He bled within every one, he was bleeding to ashes, to nothingness. 

you loved till there was nothing left to love about you. you drained down the hill. not even his blood could fulfill you.

his voice would crack, a dust cloud blows over his eyes, yet sae would stare at him ever so flatly. if he even dares to say disappointment. disappointed that his younger brother was just a copy past of him. 

someone that kills everything he touches.

When rin has nothing left to say, sae stands up. reaching his pocket for a card that carries a name and a number. as the dark-head flipped the card between his fingers, blood-thirst eyes narrowed at him.

“a fucking therapist? are you fucking kidding me?"

“you clearly need one.”

“I don't, is this some kind of lukewarm joke?”

“stop being corny, I'm trying to help you here. if you aren't willing to let yourself feel the sense of loss, you can suit yourself out.”

and with that, sae turns his back to him. like he always does. climbing the stairs to his bedroom, leaving rin to reconsider where his actions have driven him, how beyond it threw it all. 

although, he’ll never let himself feel the sense of loss. never. He'd rather be haunted by you than be alone forever, he'll be a stray till you pick him up again.

lmao wrote this with nagi plushie watching me like a hawk