#she’s like I got this place for you! it’s all for you! you’ve done so much and this is all just here for you

[ma1dita]

asking for trouble

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words:  7.8k prev -> when the curtains close | next -> as above so below summary: (post-TLT, compliant to TLO) The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all) a/n: non-descriptive mentions of blood and war, main character death. angst. a boyfriend that yall may or may not agree with. one chapter left after this!! i imagined the last scene to play out with luke in a room where they have the immersive exhibits at a museum

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[august 15th; camp half-blood kitchens, long island, new york — 9:49 pm]

Everything begins and ends with love if we are fortunate enough.

There’s a stillness that fills the air the night before what historians and future demigods alike will deem the Battle of Manhattan. It’s stifling—suffocating in the silence of the camp kitchens as you cover a sheet cake with blue frosting, piping the edges with a steady hand as you check the clock, time always ticking over your shoulder.

Almost lights out.

The circumstances are different now though, and surely no one will be able to sleep soundly tonight. Fate is hard at work unraveling the future, the gods and their spawn alike are preparing for war, yet you’re here putting sprinkles on Percy Jackson’s birthday cake.

It’s the most nonsensical thing you’ve done all week amidst the war preparations, taming the whirlwind of mixed emotions that shook camp in the days before. Perhaps it comes with the knowing that everything will change, and the only way out is through. Only the lucky ones get to go home after this.

“Are you really not coming with us tomorrow?”

Clarisse chuckles at your question from her position against the doorway, crossing her arms and watching you stick candles on the top of the sweet dessert. Her hands flex over her sleeves, tugging at the fabric like she needs to hide away from the rest of the world, “You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park instead of what it really is.”

“Is that why then?” You look up from your piping bag raising an eyebrow at her, “We need all the help we can get, Risse.”

“It’s a death wish. I don’t know how you do it grandma, but the world will keep spinning no matter if 5 shows up or not,” Clarisse mutters, rolling the words around in her mouth, “How do you do it? Knowing that he’ll be there…I-I don’t want Chris to put himself through that again. We’re going to lose anyway—something, if not everything.” 

You know that too.

There’s something ironic about how the children of war won’t be joining the fight of their lives, but Clarisse La Rue is as stubborn as a mule when she doesn’t get her way. Only something truly special would send her running to the battlefield at this point.

“A part of me feels obligated to be there and help fix it, Risse. This is the path I chose.”

She scoffs, her sneakers knocking against the side of the kitchen island. The daughter of Ares is wistful, hesitant… and nothing like herself tonight. You suppose conflict shapes someone like her like how insanity lines the essence of your being. Intangible, but the base of every choice—the driving reason connecting you to your godrents. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I still don’t get it. You don’t have to be here anymore,” she says thoughtfully, moving the cylinders of sprinkles around on the counter by height order, then by colors of the rainbow, “you could’ve chosen the easy life without all of this…I mean, if I ever got out of here alive, I wouldn’t look back.” The statement is sharp in the silence as if she’d attacked you with Maimer. Your eyes meet hers as if there’s a big secret she’s missing out on. You always look at them like that now, with a faraway gaze of a place none of them can reach.

“Who’s to say? Getting old and aging out of here is harder than you think, you know… College, rent, taxes…” you list off with every squeeze of the piping bag, spelling out Percy’s name with white frosting. Clarisse bites her lip, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she watches you.

When she closes her eyes at night, she often dreams of being home in Arizona, dry heat prickling at her cheeks and dust swirling at her ankles. That’s what her future will look like, she thinks—and she’ll let herself be selfish if it means she gets what she wants. What do you dream of? Do you think about a future for yourself if you’re so worried about saving everyone else’s?

“But you still came back. Is this easier than that?”

Not easier, but familiar. Nothing you ever want comes easy after all. There is a comfort in walking the grounds of a camp counselor job you used to dread instead of filling out job applications; easier to you means fighting with the gods and slaying creatures of old instead of paying student loans and making rent. 

“I think you’ll find out that you do stupid things for love, Clarisse La Rue.”

She’ll never tell you this, but you’re the strongest person she knows. You’ve shown her that strength doesn’t always mean brain or brawn. Sometimes strength is loving someone without expecting anything in return, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach eats at her in an unsatisfying way—like Tantalus reaching for the grapevine, fingertips grazing the leaves for eternity.

Instead, Clarisse wipes down the counter with a Clorox wipe as you make your way towards the door, cake in hand. Tonight, she and her siblings will sleep with the knowledge that they’ll get to see another day. Call her selfish, sure—but that’s how she loves them. Alive.

“I still stand ten toes behind the fact that Michael Yew can be knocked down a fucking peg,” she mutters. There’s a small smile on her face and when she looks up at you, she sees your face is illuminated by moonlight. Clarisse hopes this won’t be the last time—silently praying to her father to extend his hand onto you.

“I’ll see you when I see you, La Rue.”

Whenever that is, she thinks. This is easier than a goodbye. What matters is showing up. What matters is that they try. That’s what she reminds herself as she turns off the big light and heads toward Cabin 5. 

Does any of that still matter in the end if they aren’t alive?

Her siblings are already asleep when she tucks herself into bed despite the music and laughter coming from 12. Light from across the way filters through her window, a warm glow cast across her face leaking through even when she shuts her eyes. It warms her, reminds her of the orange of the stupid shirts they wear, sunsets on Fireworks Beach, and the molten lava that drips down the climbing wall. 

Home might not be what she remembered it to be after all these years. Clarisse decides to sleep on it, hoping that when they wake, there’ll be something worth fighting for.

[august 15th; cabin 12, long island, new york — 10:08pm]

Camp Half-Blood is quiet as you walk through the dark forest, minding your step over the brambles and checking off your mental list of responsibilities before day breaks. The air is especially cool for a summer night, melancholy being your only jacket as you move on auto-pilot. Your fingers tighten around the tray you hold, pushing the door open to Cabin 12 which currently houses most of your campers. It’s lively and bright in here—you would think they’re all celebrating a Capture the Flag win instead of being sent off to their deaths for the greater good.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up soldiers.

The wood creaks beneath your boots and it’s drowned out by the sound of soft chattering and laughter, a few of them still scuffling over sleep spots, and then—”HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY!”

There are only enough people in here to comfortably fit in a few of the strawberry trucks tomorrow—some went home to their parents to avoid the chaos and some chose not to fight at all. And the ones that remain— all 40 of them, that is, are spread out on the floor in sleeping bags writhing like worms. All the whooping and cheering is accompanied by Michael leading his siblings in song (and Connor and Travis ruining it by chanting CHA CHA CHA!). 

Percy is just shy of sixteen now, but the sheen in his blue eyes still reflects the tranquility of open water and something tender that you saw in him when he came to camp at twelve years old. Later, through mouthfuls of cake and smears of blue buttercream on his cheek, the son of Poseidon looks up at you thoughtfully, “Is this a pity cake?” He tries to make light of the situation by acting like the fate of the world doesn’t depend on his life or death, and you take a deep breath. 

Even demigods fall victim to fate, and the gods still push on. But what of their children that fight for change in the world they set the rules for; their children that fight their battles for them and lose their lives for immortal beings that live forever?

“This is a birthday party, not a pity party, Percy Jackson. There's no pity for the damned,” you chuckle. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All of the world’s problems seem so permanent when you’re 15 years old. It’s just fucked up that his will actually alter the course of humanity.

“And if this is the end of the world, I just wanted to make sure we’ve told you happy birthday first.”

“Well thanks,” Percy mumbles over a spoonful of buttercream, face reddening when Annie throws a paper towel roll at his face, “Hey!” It reminds you a lot of when you and Luke would fight in the dining pavilion, chicken tenders and mac n’ cheese flying through the air, and apples cut just the way you like.

You blink. 

It all boils down to him or Luke.

“Wipe your face, Seaweed Brain!”

Percy rolls his eyes, smiling down at his plate regardless of the weight he carries upon his shoulders. The more you want to live the more you have to lose, you think as you brush your knuckles against a spot of frosting he missed. You don’t look at the blonde boy and see a hero of the Great Prophecy—still, you see him as the little boy who was mesmerized by you conjuring strawberries on his plate on his first day at camp, innocent and honest. 

Looking around the room wistfully at that thought, you start to see the memories of their childhood blanket all of themlike ill-fitting clothes; it’s all you can notice. The feeling is so big it swallows you whole. Annabeth is still the little girl who’d rattle off obscure facts from Snapple bottle caps from her time on the road, drawing pictures of buildings with your eyeliner after sneaking into your room. Silena still makes blush out of berry juice and would call you about boy problems as if she’s not a child of the goddess of love herself. Will is still the boy who sings as he lights up fireflies and draws smiley faces on bandages. Katie, the girl who makes flower crowns for your birthday and eats strawberries with you soaked in morning dew. You look around and see scraped knees that you’ve kissed better, sleepy eyes you’ve sung to, and hearts you’ve kept warm—this is your glory, your greatest achievement being the family you’ve found in the woods of the Long Island Sound.

“You see it too?” Grover mumbles, nudging you and you sigh, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes you forget the satyr is older than you; he stands tall as your pillar of support, unwavering in his promise to protect these kids. 

“We’re getting old, man.”

“You’re only 23. There’s so much left of you,” he deadpans. Laughter comes out of you in waves as you shake your head smiling.

“And what a pleasure it’s been to grow up with you.” 

Grover bids you a good night as you walk up the stairs to your old room, phone in hand while you dial a familiar number. Your boyfriend answers before the end of the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”

Settling against the windowpane near your bed, a soft smile graces your features and you realize he’s not there to see it. It’s always been easy with him—Dex was unbelievably kind, and he had a heart that he’d share without you having to ask. He was unlike any man you’d ever encountered before, and over the past year and a half you found it easy to love him. 

Worst of all, he’s utterly devoted to you. At least every part of you that you were willing to give him, even if it wasn’t all of you per se. Plus, you saw the ring in his desk drawer last week.

It was too…good to be true.

You recognize that this was your way out like Clarisse said, your escape from the turbulence that was your life as a demigod. But it was hard to believe that you were deserving of it. He’d never know of the ichor that runs through your veins, and the life you’d have to leave behind to truly be with him. You suppose every love you’ve ever had was sacrificial. You just wonder if because of that, easy makes it hard to feel real.

Maybe if you survive this one you’d tell him the truth. But for now, he’s rambling in your ear about his sudden work trip upstate. Morpheus and Hypnos are already at work then, redirecting the city dwellers out of Manhattan. It must be later than you thought already and in a few short hours, Apollo will be shining his rays across the Island for what you hope won’t be the last time.

“I wish I was with you right now,” you mutter in a hushed tone, and you hear him laugh breathily through the static sound of the phone. It’s easy to imagine him twirling the telephone cord between his fingers, flopped over the tiny loveseat you went halfsies on with your first big paychecks. The apartment you both moved into after graduation is more accurately a shoebox—but it’s yours, and the love you have for it is immeasurable in comparison to the square footage. You hum, listening to the sound of his voice, “Maybe I can catch you before I go—stop by and say hi before I drive up.” 

He won’t. By morning, you’re not even sure if he’ll remember you—all traces of Greek gods and their counterparts wiped clean from memory until it’s all over, whenever that is. You’re mindlessly walking in circles around your room, bare feet padding against the floorboards. He repeats your name and you realize you haven’t been paying attention, the tail end catching your ear, “Hmm?”

“Or you could come to me. I’m sure your dad won’t mind. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?” 

And out of anything happening tomorrow, that especially sounds like a nightmare so you make a noise of disagreement, “I can’t. You know I can’t, honey. I’ve got…” your voice trails off as your lilac eyes land on a faded photo strip thumbtacked to your wall, “unfinished business to deal with.” There’s nothing left but inky silhouettes on the sun-damaged paper, two past lovers huddled together. But you know what it’s a picture of. Rye Playland, you and Luke at fifteen, cheek to cheek and covered in wisps of cotton candy.

“Mm. Sounds important. Does your unfinished business have a name?” 

Dex sounds playful now, teasing despite the silence on your end of the line. A beat passes, and then another, and he can hear the sound of your hands rifling through the things in your desk drawer. The dragon scale necklace is cold in your palm. 

For good luck, you think. 

It’s been a while since you’ve worn it—keeping it safe in the only home you and Luke shared, and as soon as it touches your neck, you feel a little less empty inside. It feels like a safety blanket, protecting you from whatever might come next. You almost feel guilty to be relieved.

Thumbing the cord absentmindedly, you mutter, “You don’t even know the half of it, Dex.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me.” Sometimes, it’s like he knows— Dex must be the ivy that grows over the walls you’ve built up around yourself, and he can see glimpses of who you try to hide behind your stone-cold resolve. He wonders if you’ll ever tell him about the names you call out at night— an indistinguishable language he’ll never fully understand. He wonders where you’ve gotten your constellation of scars and where your mind goes when you sit next to the window and stare at the skyline.

Oh, he wonders.

The glow-in-the-dark stars are faded now on the ceiling when you look up at them, fighting to give their last bits of light. You wonder too, if there’s any fight left in you; a bit of Luke always remains—he’s everywhere you look. You can feel him as night falls upon New York, bidding you goodnight before it crumbles tomorrow. 

“Maybe. Good night, honey.”

Dex yawns into the receiver. You know his feet are kicked up onto the coffee table even though you always tell him he shouldn’t, and that his glasses are already off for the night. You really think he could be a nice guy to end up with, all things considered. Dex was the epitome of normal, and after almost two and a half decades of existence, it’s quite evident that you are anything but. 

Normal might be quite nice.

He yawns again. Hypnos must have reached his window, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. Me too. Good night.”

It’s the truth. 

You love this man and the spaces he’s filled within the chaos of your life. You love all of him, from the perfectly normal way he makes breakfast for you every morning (and laughs when he burns the toast), and takes the train to work at a middle school in Harlem (“6th grade ELA takes a lot out of a man,” he jokes). He picks you up from your job at the therapist’s office downtown if you get out too late, as a gentleman would (though you’ve fought monsters that he’d scream at the sight of). Once upon a time, normal was exactly what you used to wish for.

There’s a moment where your breath hitches and you sink against your pillow and you wonder if he would love all of you—demigod and all. Could he get used to this— summers at Camp Half-Blood with chariot races and gladiator-style fighting, pegasi and harpies roaming the grounds, and watersports with woodland nymphs? Dex never even questions your green thumb or how Pollux made him hallucinate your dead brother when he came to visit (“It’s what Castor would’ve wanted! The full twin-terrogation!” he insists. You convinced your boyfriend he got food poisoning that night). Could you come clean about knowing how to slay a chimera, or why you never get drunk, and have the stamina of an Olympian (the athletic kind, but not too far off from the truth)? 

But it shouldn’t be called coming clean. That makes it sound like you’re ashamed of who you are—which you’re not. You’ve just been hiding this part of you from a normal human that you love very much.

Gods, is this how your dad felt when he was seeing your mom? 

Somehow insanity has always felt bearable—love, however, has always been such an ordeal.

The phone bounces onto your bedspread once you hang up the call. There is no more time to worry about playing a part. Tomorrow, everyone comes as they are—whatever happens after will be a problem if you reach another day. Fate has its way of making itself known, you know that by now. Blinking, you take a deep breath, and very intentionally, with your feet criss-cross applesauce, you pray—for what, you still try to figure out as the minutes tick by. 

Better late than never.

Here at camp, you were always the last one up after lights out, anyway. Tonight of all nights shouldn't be any different.

[august 16th; 34th street and herald square, manhattan, new york — 9:17 am]

“Where do you think you’re going, mister!”

Your little brother flinches, immediately turning tail and walking across the deserted street to meet you in the middle. He’s taller than you now, craning his neck down to look at your angry glower as you thrust a finger into his face, “You’re sticking with me.”

“Jake said he’s taking 9 and 12 to the Holland Tunnel,” Pollux calls out, shuffling his feet and you punch his arm hard, “OW! —It’s what Percy wants.” He swats your hand away for good measure, his arm guards clanking against yours when he dodges another swing at his head.

“We are Cabin 12, you shithead. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” Your staff is heavy against his shoulder and Pollux can’t help but let his gaze wander to where Jake Mason and the other children of Hephaestus are waiting for him a block over. Manhattan is a warzone, and the difference between fighting empousai and fighting his older sister right now is very similar in theory—hard to do alone. The tunnel is halfway across the city from the Empire State Building—if something were to happen to either of you…

"M’not here to fight,” he sighs, “with you at least. I need to do my part, sissy.” The old nickname is an arrow through your heart and you grab Pollux’s hand, “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“HEY 12! You coming, or what?”

The two of you look towards the small army down the block, both of your hands intertwined like grapes from the same vine. You’re not sure if you can let go; you’re not sure if your father could lose another child. But Pollux’s face is almost set in stone—he’s never been more sure of himself. Your lip wavers, forcing itself into a stiff smile and he softens at the sight, “I’ll be okay.”

“And if you’re not? Then what?”

He shrugs, “Then… then I’ll get to see Castor.”

You nod, breathing shakily, and flinching when Jake calls for Pollux again, “Well. If you are okay…You come find me. After this is over, you come straight back home to me. You got it?”

Pollux hugs you, hard—the force of all of him sending you sprawling into his arms and it knocks the wind out of you. As the twins have grown, it’s been rare for them to show you any affection. They’d usually recoil or whine about how mushy their older sister is, and each time it makes you laugh. But right now, you stand there gripping onto his t-shirt, breathless; the ringing in your ears gives way to words he mumbles into your hair, “I love you,” he says, in case you didn’t already know. 

Just in case this is goodbye. You take it in for a moment longer, running a hand through his blond hair and cupping his cheeks as you finally step away, “I love you. I’m so proud of you, P. We all are.”

“Haven’t done anything yet,” he grins, backing away slowly, a skip in his step as he nears the small troop of Hephaestus kids. You wave them off, blowing a kiss as they band together and turn in the other direction.

Why is it that you can only be proud of someone if there’s something to prove it?

You think about all 40 of your campers fighting for their lives in the greatest city in the world. The sound of hellfire, roaring monsters, and screams that could only come from your kids. Fatigue wears you down with each swipe of magic towards enemy forces, monsters writhing in pain at your feet, demigods reduced to insanity and blood-curdling screams. It disgusts you even more so that no one can witness the weapon you've been forced to become.

After all, no one knows any of you were there. Life continues on outside of the bubble containing the Battle of Manhattan. And only the ones fighting will be able to remember this. Only you will remember the blood you spilled to wrestle for your destiny.

The rest of the city continues to sleep, safe from the people who swore to protect it.

[august 18th; empire state building, manhattan, new york mount olympus, in the sky above new york??? — 5:22 pm]

Running up 492 flights of stairs was another type of hell you didn’t expect to put yourself through, but it was faster than waiting for the elevator to Olympus. It’s quiet besides the steady rush of blood pumping in your ears, your boots slapping against the tile to reach your friends who might be in danger at the hands of someone you know well. But it’s too late to give up when you’re so close—you realize you’re praying to anyone who’ll listen as you push through the pain of always being a little too late. 

“Ugh!”

Air pierces through your lungs painfully as you trip up a landing, hands clawing against the banister. Have you been running in place this whole time, quick to start but hard to follow? Your lip quivers, eyes trailing up the stairwell faster than your legs can take you. 

Whatever the outcome, you’ll be better for it, you hope.

It’d be easier to give up. To stay away and not watch Percy fight for his life against him. You dry heave as you press your head against the wall, wondering if it’s worth not seeing what will become of this wretched prophecy. It’s hard to survive loving the villain when the rest of the world is dying because of it. Your legs feel like jelly underneath you, and not a single soul in Manhattan knows you’re here—until you feel the strength of an old traveler lift you up and revitalize your soul. Looking down to see your boots retie themselves tightly, the feeling in your chest reminds you of him. Everything leads back to Luke, and you think wherever he is now—Hermes knows that too. 

“Thank you,” you mutter. He’s handpicked your prayer through the tempest that hangs over Manhattan so that maybe your hands will be gentler in smiting his lost son. You find yourself with the nerve to run up the last dozen flights of stairs, pushing past the entryway to see Thalia Grace under a statue of her stepmother, “THALIA!” You barely make it to her fallen form before her free arm tries to push you away from the rubble.

“Get out of here! I mean it—” Thalia spits out your name through gnarled teeth and bones crunching under the heavy hands of Hera. The statue lays over the bottom half of her body, holding her legs down like how one forms a fist, and the daughter of Zeus pushes through pain and millennia worth of her dad’s karmic debt in giving her life—the essence of being a forbidden child still has a hold on her, even now. 

“I’m not gonna…leave you…”

With everything in you, both demigod strength and sheer desperation, you push at the unmoving stone and your fingernails begin to splinter from the pressure. 

But you know what it feels like to get left behind. 

Desolation slowly sets in your bones, a hollow feeling that spreads through your core as sweat rolls down your cheeks, and when you sniff to wipe it away, Thalia’s lip quivers. She’s writhing in pain and everything is coming to an end down the hall from where you stand. 

“We’re so close, Grace. I’m not giving up on you when we’re this close. I need you in there with me so you just hold on, okay?”

The marble is cool to the touch under your moist hands, and her face is fixed in a grimace as she looks up at you and sees you for who you are—another demigod who was never given a fair chance at fate but with a spirit of a hero waiting for the right chance. Thalia coughs before slapping your hand away, “LISTEN TO ME! I’ll be okay. He needs you to be there. We’re almost out of time!” 

You barely register your body moving as you get up and start to run, looking back at Thalia by the time you’re at the top of the landing. There are no words that you could imagine to string together when your eyes meet hers in the distance that separates you two—the feeling of grief bearing down as you both know the end is near and inside those doors.

As you turn back around, you take a moment to wonder if you might’ve had different people in mind for who’s up there waiting for you.

[august 18th; the hall of gods, mount olympus, the sky above new york— 6:48 pm]

Finally pushing through the heavy doors of the Hall of Gods, your eyes burn like salt in a wound as you travel toward the center to see three figures laid out on the marble mezzanine. There’s a cramp in your calf by the time you reach them, your legs giving way as you skid to a stop in front of Luke’s corroded body. The pain doesn’t register for you, split skin going numb as you stare into the eyes of a storm you fell in love with almost ten years ago. 

A stranger is no longer wearing your love’s skin. Percy and Annie’s eyes feel heavy against your back as they watch you sigh in relief, a landslide of emotion rolling off of you when you see he’s still breathing, even faintly, as if he waited for you to make it back to him.

“It’s Luke,” Annabeth chokes out, “the scythe transformed into Backbiter and I knew it was him. He was fighting for us.” Her voice makes you flinch, makes this more real—it echoes as the wind carries it through the hall. Without a doubt in your mind, you know it’s him by the way he looks at you with tired eyes, soft and amber—the light pushing away the shadows and he reaches out for you. His skin is paled by the River Styx, face weathered by the Titan as you gently guide his head onto your lap. A pathetic cry slips from your mouth when you realize there’s more pressure in the fingers he brushes against your cheekbone versus the one holding the blade embedded in his chest. 

Fuck, what do you even say? 

He’s dying right in front of you and you can’t think of a single word to say.

The clock is ticking and every breath of his comes out weaker––he speaks before you can find the words, breathing out, “I missed you,” like it was a relief to say it. And it all comes spilling out like a secret you’ve been safeguarding since the day he left— a mix of your tears and his blood smearing across your cheek as he reaches out to wipe them ever so gently. You find yourself smiling in the face of death itself—smile even if the both of you can feel death’s hand on him saying that time is finally up because the act of meeting each other here in the middle makes the years you’ve gone without him worthwhile. 

The reunion is also the loss; a nasty habit you’ve both fallen into over the years. But this time, Luke’s finally able to give you the world he wanted to see just before he leaves it.

You clutch him close without intending to let go, purple eyes scavenging for confirmation that this is your Luke, the one who pushed you through the brambles of the North Woods, wind in his hair and mischief in his smile. He’s citrus and musk, cunning smiles, something sacred kept within cabin 11, calloused fingers pulling at your t-shirt, and the voice out of tune at nightly sing-a-longs—and he loves you still. 

Loving you was the only thing that never changed.

“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy. The gods will…” you swallow a sob despite yourself, “I…my dad’s going to be here soon. He’ll help us.” There’s a lump in your throat that carries the weight of everything unsaid. Who would help you now that everyone else is getting what they wanted—a brighter tomorrow without the villain? But the prophecy unveils itself so cruelly, and the one who hurt you is the hero in this story, just as he’s always dreamed. It so happens to be at the cost of loving you.

Luke’s eyelids flutter like butterfly wings descending softly. You press a kiss onto his forehead like you used to while waiting for him to fall asleep. The chuckle that rumbles his ribcage is faint against the hand of yours that’s holding him together and the war is finally over and no one even knows that besides the four of you in this room.

“I'm running on borrowed time,” Luke wheezes, “I think my life ended the day I left you.” His thumb weakly traces the tear tracks cascading down your face, and he’s reacquainting himself with every feature of yours while he can touch it—to hold and be held by you after so long feels like drinking up ambrosia, his last bits of strength telling you what you’ve always known. 

Is there a word stronger than love?

One that would explain how close and how far you feel to him at this moment and you don’t want to say the wrong thing but there are no wrong words when it comes to the right person. Hoarsely, through wavering lips, you chuckle, “Then it's time to stop running, baby. I’m here now.”

It’s exhausting to carry the weight of tomorrow in your arms and to know it’ll be made possible only by letting him go. You’re holding him too tightly, claws sinking in to feel—to ground yourself and keep him tethered to this reality, just in case a different answer falls out of the sky. 

But falling with Luke Castellan, falling for him, has been nothing like you wanted. You've said your goodbyes more often than you can count. 

This part is just about letting him go.

“I think I’m doomed,” he laughs, coughing harshly. Blood soaks his airways, retribution for the lives he took. It drips out of his mouth and you still look at Luke like he’s asked you to marry him. What a soft, funny thought. 

Love must be more violent than war, to feel like this—to know he’s wrecked your world and still come out the other side smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky. His fingers are slipping out of yours as you hold onto the knife that keeps him here and Luke mutters, “I’m so s-sorry. You deserved better in this life.” You hear Annabeth sob from somewhere behind you but you can’t look at anything else but his eyes, not daring to miss another moment of him.

“Can’t be all that bad,” you say with a watery chuckle, wiping his mouth with your thumb. There’s more of a mess now with your feeble efforts but the action comforts you more than him; caring for Luke is something you cannot unlearn. 

“This life gave me you. I don’t want to know anything else. Do you hear me?” 

You want Luke to know this—to understand that even if this is how fate has handled the both of you, there is no other hand you would hold but his.

“You’re my whole life, Trouble.”

“I know, angel. I know. It’s always been me and you.”

You and me, he mouths, an echo of himself left to relay the message as his eyes lose their warmth, empty now and unseeing. And then he's home in your arms again as you hold every broken and bloodied piece of him together until he's no more. The parts of him he leaves behind blur into you, rivulets of his lifeforce weaving through your fingertips even when you put pressure against the knife you both hold, hands cradling the spot under his armpit, and to Percy and Annabeth it looks like you're holding his heart, clutching it between your fingers.

Protecting it until his last beat—when he finally gives it over to you. 

It was always yours, anyway. 

Before, in the in-between, and now after, his heart is yours.

Time stops for Luke Castellan, the man born to die, in the Hall of Gods that day— in the arms of his partner and in the presence of his little sister and truest friend. 

Lips against his ear, no one tries to pull you away, even when the gods of Olympus march in expecting a battle to only find a dead hero and a story that needs to be told.

You’ve never seen him so still before. 

Luke’s always been the one with something to say, hands fidgeting to hold yours. Still, you hold his hand even if he can't feel it, still smile even if he can't see you, still whisper words of devotion even if he can't hear it. By the time you feel your father’s hands on your back and hear Percy say, “We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes,” you imagine that he’s miles away from where he lays motionless, dead weight in your grasp. Nothing can pull you away from the mantra you set to remind him that he’s yours even when he leaves again. Luke’s soul will soon journey where you cannot follow, and you whisper to him in the stillness amidst the noise, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

When the Fates come to collect the body, their ancient hands spin around the two of you as they unweave your hold on him. You weren’t given a choice—his material body dissipates in front of your eyes and you swear you feel the tug from deep within your core as you watch them float Luke away. It’s so much different now from when he used to fly around your room with his stupid winged Converse—even the gods avert their eyes when you let out a sob that shakes the ornate hall. Hopelessly you watch, sat down on the marble and unable to move or follow—as if maybe he’d still answer to your sweet nothings, and not leave you hanging once more. You slump against your father’s side, catatonic and at a loss for words—they leave with him, floating away into the distance.

Humanity’s biggest problem and resolution has always been love—this was never a story about the lack thereof.

[august 18th; death, pre-judgement? — the seven minutes after]

The path that Luke Castellan takes after he dies is most peculiar and unlike any path he’s traveled before. And yes, there have been several times that he’s come close to death—under Ladon’s claws in the Garden of Hesperides, and when he relinquished his physical self by bathing in the River Styx, but neither of those times where he’s cheated his way out can compare to the real thing. 

He once read in one of Annabeth’s textbooks that there are seven minutes of brain activity that wanes in your consciousness before you die. There’s a distinct thrumming in his ears when he comes to, and Luke discovers he’s completely in the dark with no sense of direction and most importantly, no visible way out. The old him, were he still alive—would be panicking by now, short terse breaths and sweat upon his brow. Old Luke would have fidgeting hands and eyes that rocket around for an exit. But this Luke, whoever he is—whatever he is now, finds himself eerily calm. Everything glows in a vignette, and familiar scenes materialize before his vision, a kaleidoscope of color and your shrieking laughter surrounding him in the familiarity of your happiness with him—it feels like lifetimes ago. He realizes he’s smiling. 

Versions of you swirl in the space he stands in, taking up space wherever he can look, wherever he turns—you’re there. 

And he remembers.  

Memory is a choice after all, much like love is. And no one can take that away from Luke Castellan except death itself.

The scene flickers for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against morning light peeking through the windows of Cabin 11.

It’s Luke’s first morning at Camp Half-Blood after the storm that brought him and Annabeth there. You’re standing over him with a half-beaten pillow and a menacing grin that grows as he spits out feathers. It’s his first impression of you, Kool-aid tipped hair and hands shaking with a crushed Redbull can in your other fist.

“Good. You’re still breathing. Wasn’t sure for a sec.”

A voice yells out your name and you make a run for it, barefoot and giggling and looking back at him every few steps—his breath catches in his throat again like how it did on the first day you both met.

The scenery changes and he’s sitting next to you on the dock of Canoe Lake.

“I dare you.”

“No way,” he hears himself say, and then he sees you fling algae at him in ropes, cold and slimy that it makes his voice crack, “He—ey! You’re gonna get us fired and it hasn’t even been a full day since we got the job,” he says, clearing his throat as you bite your lip.

“What’s one last hurrah?”

“You’re always gonna be Trouble, aren’t you?” he says, getting annoyed by the orange fabric that temporarily blinds him. Chuckling, you pull your shorts off and look back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight and he can’t help but ogle at the rest of you, gulping hard. You catch him staring and he averts his eyes, looking back at the treeline to see if anyone’s come to find you both. A resounding splash echoes in the silence between you and Luke turns back to find your head bobbing visible above the water and not much else.

“I double-dog dare you, Castellan.”

He jumps in.

The dark blue of the water turns into light reflecting the pinks and purples of the sky above Montauk Point at sunset.

“We’re alive! Told you we’d be fine,” you yell, clicking your seatbelt off and jumping out of the car before Luke can even put the hatchback in park. It was his first drive anywhere—you’ve finally graduated from looping around Farm Road.

“Hey wait up!”

He calls out your name, but you’re already kicking up sand as the distance between you grows until he locks up the car and chases after you. You didn’t stand a chance, slipping and sliding in the sand as the son of Hermes quickly grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder as you scream bloody murder. When he sets you down, your arms are looped around his neck and you’re smiling against the pink and tender scar on his cheek.

“Think we can break into the lighthouse before the guards come, angelface?”

The sound of crashing waves turns into chattering cabin counselors and when Luke looks around again, he’s at the Big House, with everyone else pushing their chairs in and walking towards the door. He holds his hand out and you grab it with no words or instruction—like a key nestled within its lock, exactly where it’s meant to be. 

“Last order of business, kind of…” Your dad drones from his spot near the windows. Luke tries to let go of your hand but you don’t let him, “Don’t panic,” you mutter.

“This… fraternization won't become an issue for all of us, will it?”

Everyone’s frozen near the doorway, staring at your intertwined hands. Luke clears his throat and turns toward Mr. D, “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Sir.”

You could almost hear a pin drop, and no one knows what to say next—not even Mr. D.

“Yeah, I’ll keep Castellan in line.”

That’s the confirmation everyone was waiting for; a mixture of groans and the clinking of drachma fill the air as Chris holds his hands out and takes his spoils of victory with a charming smirk on his face. Clarisse throws the coins at his head.

“I feel like I should take a bow or something,” Luke snickers into your ear, before placing a kiss against your temple.

You’re still in his arms and still look good in orange, but when he pulls back to look at you again, you’re both hovering above the ground near the dining pavilion. His knees are shaking when his winged Converse flap madly underneath you—a flurry of uncoordinated movement that makes you want to piss yourself.

“You’re lucky I have a strong core, babe,” he grins—and he’s thrilled at the fear on your face as you clutch onto him for dear life, one arm around his abdomen and the other around his neck, both legs latched around his waist.

“I swear to the fucking gods if you drop me, Castellan…”

His right foot jerks in a slightly different direction, making him laugh as you squeak.

“Castellan, huh? That scared, Trouble? Not gonna drop my baby.”

The wind around you whirls like a tornado as Luke tries to show off, getting higher and higher until, “LUKE!”

He catches you by the fingertips again and now there’s sand beneath your feet. You’re still spinning in his arms and his mom is singing along to a song playing on the radio you brought to Westport Beach. May claps lightly and you tug her up with a soft smile, “Come on Miss May! Take your son out for a spin.” Tugging at the damp white t-shirt you wear over your underwear, you take a seat on the picnic blanket and watch them with a smile you haven’t given Luke in years.

“Mother-son dance,” May whispers in his ear, humming a few notes of the wedding march.

He closes his eyes and soaks it all in, slightly swaying.

That thrumming is in his ears again, a steady beat against his chest and he feels it everywhere—a pounding rhythm that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes and you’re snuggled against each other, tangled beneath the sheets. You’re still asleep and Luke just…watches you before the morning starts (whenever this is) and it all has to end. You’re breathing against his neck, lips slightly agape as warm air brushes his pulse. He moves hair out of your face and you pull him in unconsciously, skin to skin with no atom of space left between you. 

Luke blinks. 

You’re in your college apartment.

He blinks again.

His childhood bedroom.

Again, please.

In Cabin 12.

Please, just one last time.

You’re drooling against his neck in his tiny bunk in Cabin 11 and the noise is getting louder now—a static sound that morphs into the sound of your voice throbbing like a heartbeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s the last thing he can hear before he has to go.

_ 

“I wanna see your eyes / Is it a crime to say I still need you?” - Adrienne Lenker

[sevikaslapdog]

His wife

Summary: Its been almost ten years since everyone graduated, and they all decided to get back together and have a class reunion.

Warnings: fem reader, use of yn, izuku and reader have the cutest friendship, drinking

You and Katsuki met almost two years after he debuted as a pro hero, of course you knew who he was but that wasn’t why you fell in love with him.

Sure to the world he was snappy, slightly aggressive, but to you he was sweet, patient, and the most caring man in the world.

Now almost eight years later a ring was sitting on your left hand and he had your initials tattooed on his ring finger. Of course he’d rather wear a ring but his job prevented that so the only tattoo he’d ever get was your initials.

This past year your husband had been patrolling more than usual, wanting to work with Izuku every chance he could. Especially now that he had the new suit that Katsuki worked his ass off for.

You worked for Katsuki’s agency since he’d rather die than have you work for someone else, plus it gave him an excuse to see you more.

A couple weeks ago though he got a text from Izuku, talking about how their old class was having a get together for a ‘class reunion’. You remember how he scoffed as he retold the story to you. You smiled at him, nodding while you said “We should go! Plus i’ve been wanting to meet all your old friends!”

Who is Katsuki to say no to his wife?

Which is how he landed himself in this position, watching you hurriedly get ready even though his finished almost a hour ago. You were now finding the perfect jewelry pieces, he sighed as he got up from the couch and went to your shared bedroom.

“No one’s gonna be paying attention to your jewelry woman, we’re gonna be late and we still have to pick up Izuku.” You huffed, closing the clasp to your earring. Turning around to face him, “I’m done, do I look ok?”

His expression softened slightly, he could tell you were nervous. He walked towards your, placing his hands on your hips and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Ya look good, cmon now.” You smiled up at him, placing a soft kiss to his lips before going to grab your purse and phone. He was waiting for you at the door, you smiled at him apologetically since you realized just how much time you actually took.

Twenty minutes later you and Katsuki were parked outside Izuku’s apartment, his car recently broke down since in your husband’s words was ‘a piece of fucking shit.’ You smiled whenever you saw him exiting the building, unlocking the door’s so he could get in.

Although Katsuki would never admit it he was happy you got along with Izuku so well, you two were the most important people in his lives just in different ways. At first he was a bit pissed off years ago whenever you two started becoming friends but the more he matured the more he realized it was a blessing.

Finally the back door opened and Izuku slid into the backseat, closing the door behind him. You turned to face him as he sat in the middle seat, buckling himself up. “Do you think they’ll like me?” Izuku could only smile, looking at the rearview mirror and making eye contact with Katsuki.

He looked back at you with a smile, “Im sure they will yn, there’s really no need to worry. If you’d like I can help and introduce you to Ochako.” You smiled, nodding “Oh yes, I see her on tv sometimes she’s gorgeous.” He nod’s along agreeing with you.

The car is filled with chatter from you and Izuku mostly, Katsuki butting in from time to time as he drives the three of you to the club Momo rented out.

Almost thirty minutes later the car was finally in park, Katsuki turned off the car and turned to you. “Stop being so nervous, everyone will like you.” You’ve already met Kirishima, Denki, Jirou, and Mina. You nodded along, “Ok let’s go.” You quickly got out the car and slid your purse onto your shoulder and making sure you had your phone.

Katsuki smirked knowing you were trying to get out the car so you didn’t chicken out. He and Izuku got out the car and you all walked inside, Katsuki stopped you while Izuku made his way to some people you’ve seen on Tv before. “You sure you’ll be ok? If you’d want to leave we can go.” All you could was nod, turning your head to face him.

“Yea I’m sure, I think i’m gonna go over there with Izuku for a bit. Just to meet some people I don’t already know.” He glanced over to where Izuku was, seeing him with Shoto, Uraraka, and Iida. He hummed, giving your hand a squeeze before you both parted way.

You walked over to Izuku who was standing near the bar with people you recognized, you tapped his arm as he turned to you with a smile. He placed his hand on your shoulder and turned to the small group, “This is yn, kacchan’s wife.” You waved to them, seeing how Uraraka immediately smiled at you.

She immediately smiled, sticking her hand out for you to shake. “Oh my Izuku’s told me about you, i’m so happy to finally get to meet you.” You could already feel yourself coming out of your shell as you shook her hand, glancing over at Izuku with a grateful smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, I would hope its only good things he’s saying.”

She gently pulled her hand away just as someone else talked, you immediately recognized him as Shoto Todoroki. If you were being honest you used to be a big fan of his, always enjoying watching his fights just to see how he used his quirk. “It’s nice to meet you yn, its nice to meet the women who somehow put’s up with Bakugo.”

You could hear Izuku stifle a laugh as you laughed yourself nodding your head, “Its nice to meet you too.”

Soon you comfortably conversed with the group, though the whole time you could practically feel Katsuki’s eyes on you. You knew he just wanted you to feel comfortable, you excuses yourself from the group and walked over to where he was.

He was sitting in a large booth with Kirishima and Mina, and Jirou and Denki. Seeing you walking over he placed his drink down and slid over making room for you, you smiled at him as you sat down.

The group said different greeting’s to you before falling back into the conversation. Though Katsuki’s focus was on you, placing his arm on the back of the booth to rest behind you. “Uraraka was so sweet, and Shoto was honestly really funny.” Katsuki grumbled at the compliment you gave Todoroki. He was aware of your past fangirling for the man and he would always tease you for it.

“Honestly, Im really glad we came.” He smiled at that, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “Im glad you’re making more friends.” You smiled at him and moved closer towards him, his arm moved from the booth to over your shoulder’s. You both entered the conversation with the group.

As the night went on you had talked to most of the people in the room, besides a few. You and Uraraka had exchanged numbers with smiles on both of your faces as you two made plans. You ended up confessing to Todoroki about your past fan behavior for him, he laughed as you told him. He mentioned it to your husband later that night which caused him to get yelled at as you two laughed.

Finally you and him had just dropped off Izuku, you were driving since Katsuki had a few drinks. The car was quiet besides the air flowing throughout the car, Katsuki shifted around in his seat before speaking “Did you enjoy tonight?” Immediately you smiled again at the memories of the night “Yes I did, me and Uraraka exchanged numbers and we promised to meet up the next time she’s available.”

He stayed silent as he stared at you with a soft smile, he was happy you were making your own friends. He didn’t mind that all of your friends were his, but he was glad you were making your own. “I told you they’d like you.” You glanced over at him with a smile, finally pulling into your neighborhood.

“I guess you were right.” He hummed and the car fell silent again.

Once you two got home you and him got in the shower together, you helped him wash his hair like you do most nights and he helped you with yours. After you were both in pajamas, you and him crawled into bed with him on your chest.

home

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 18

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I have a question for you guys. How do you guys read Innie? Because I saw someone on TikTok read it as I.N-ie where I've always read it as in-ie, like Jeonginnie. I'm just curious as to how people read it.

Chapter 18

“Are you sure you guys don’t need any help?” Y/n asks as she watches Minho and Felix move around the kitchen making dinner. 

“We’ve got it, baby.” Felix smiles at her before booping her nose causing her to scrunch it up. “Go relax a little.” 

The omega sighs before turning to see where everyone else is. She knows Jisung and Jeongin are out walking in the neighborhood. She then spots Changbin standing outside the back door and walks out to join him. 

“Hey pretty girl.” He smiles looking up from his phone.

“Is that your omega?” A female voice asks from his call.

“Oh, sorry Binnie.” Y/n frowns a little for interrupting his phone call. “I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

“It’s okay baby, it’s just my sister.” He holds his hand out for her to join him. “She’s been wanting to meet you anyways.” 

She takes his hand and he brings her close to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist as she looks at the phone seeing his sister on a video call.

“Hi Y/n, it’s so good to finally meet you.” The older girl beams on the phone. “I’m Jaehee.”

“Hi.” Y/n waves shyly. “I didn’t know Changbin had an older sister.”

“That's just like him, not to mention me.” Jaehee rolls her eyes. “He’s told us a lot about you though. You’re even cuter than he described. Not sure how you ended up with someone like my brother though.” 

“Yah!!” Changbin yells, causing the girl to lean away from him a little at his loud voice. 

“Don’t make the poor girl deaf, Changbinnie.” Jaehee scolds. “God you’re so loud.”

“If I had known you were just going to make fun of me the whole time I wouldn’t have answered your call.” He grumbles causing his sister to laugh.

“I’ll be nice.” Jaehee smiles then looks at the omega through the camera. “So Y/n, how are you liking Jeju Island? Changbin said it’s your first time being there. Do you like our beach house?”

“It’s very beautiful here. And the house is amazing.” Y/n smiles. “I can understand why Jisung and Felix wanted to come here so badly.”

“What have you guys been up to so far?”

“All together we’ve only done a beach day. Though I think we’re all going to the drive-in theatre tonight since Felix and Minho are making an early dinner.” She looks at her mate for confirmation who nods yes. “And they’ve each paired up and have been taking me on dates as proper courting.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” The older female gushes. “What did my brother do for his date?”

“We haven't gone yet. He and Ji are my last date tomorrow.”

“Changbin, you better treat this girl right on your guys date tomorrow.” She scolds. “I expect princess treatment, you hear me?”

“Trust me, all she knows at this point is princess treatment.” The alpha defends making the girl next to him blush as he pulls her closer to him and nuzzles her cheek.

“Y/n, if he ever does anything to upset you, call me okay?”

“Will do, Jaehee.”

“So what did the others do for your dates?” Jaehee places her chin in her hand. 

“Chan and Seungmin took me to some shops to get a swimsuit and we got desserts.” Y/n smiles as she thinks about her dates. “Felix and Jeongin took me to a gaming cafe and Minho and Hyunjin took me to the farmers market and craft fair.”

“Ooh Changbinnie, you’ve got some competition.” 

“It isn’t about which pair takes her on a better date Jaehee.” Changbin looks annoyed with his sister now. “This trip is about all of us bonding and getting to know our girl better.”

“Alright, alright.” She puts her hands up in surrender. “I’ll stop being a pest and let you guys go. Have fun on the rest of your vacation. And Y/n, we’ll have to figure out sometime when you and Changbin can come over to our parents so we can meet in person.”

“Sounds good.” The omega smiles. “I know we’ll have to figure that out for everyone's families.”

“Tell everyone else I said hi. And we’ll talk again soon.”

“Bye.” Y/n and Changbin say at the same time before hanging up the video call. 

“Sorry about her, pretty girl.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I like her.” Y/n smiles up at him. “I can’t wait to meet her and your parents in person.”

“We’ll definitely have to figure out with everyone when we can finally introduce you to all of our families.” 

“Do you think all of your guy’s family will like me?” The omega scent starts to sour as she starts to get into her head.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He places a finger under her chin to lift her head up so they are making eye contact. “Our families will love you. They’ll have no reasons not to.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m positive.”

“Dinners ready.” Jeongin pokes his head out from the sliding glass door but then frowns when he sees the alpha and omega. “Jagiya, you okay?”

“She’s good, pup.” Changbin grabs her hand and leads her into the house and ruffles his hair as they walk past. “Let's eat so we can get ready to head out.”

Minho and Felix place the last of the food on the table as they all start taking seats. Jeongin quickly takes one of the seats next to Y/n. He’s been worried about her since she had asked him to help her slip into subspace, hovering around her a little more. 

“So there are two movies playing tonight.” Chan says as everyone starts eating. “One screen will be playing Jurassic World. And the other screen will be playing Five Feet Apart.”

“We have to see Five Feet Apart.” Felix sits up straight, eyes wide with excitement. 

“Isn’t it a sad sappy movie?” Seungmin scrunches his nose. “At least Jurassic World has action.”

“Like always, we’ll put it to a vote.” Changbin eyes the two in warning not to start arguing. “If you want to see Jurassic World, raise your hand.” Changbin raises his hand along with Seungmin, Jeongin and Chan. “And Five Feet Apart.” Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin and Minho raise theirs.

“Y/n, you didn’t vote.” Chan looks at her with a frown. 

“Why do I have to be the one to decide?” She looks at all of them, scared that depending on which one she picks, the four who picked the other movie will be upset and grouchy the whole time. 

“You get to have a choice in this too, babygirl.”

“And now that we have nine people we actually have a better voting system unlike before.” Jeongin places his hand on her thigh. “We would have so many ties with there being an even number of us that we would have to flip a coin to decide most of the time.”

“What if we see both?” She mumbles not looking at any of them. “We’re already planning to take two of the three cars right? So everyone that wants to see Jurassic world goes in one and everyone who wants to see Five Feet Apart goes in the other and everyone is happy.”

“No we’re not.” Minho shakes his head. “We’re supposed to be doing this as a pack, so we all see one movie, not split up to see different ones, it’s not how it works.”

“But I don’t want anyone who was wanting to see the other movie than the one I pick be upset and unhappy the whole time.”

“That won’t happen, pup, I promise.” Seungmin gives her a reassuring smile. “As long as we’re all together we’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, the plan is to put all the pillows and blankets in the bed of the trunk and we all get in it to watch the movie and cuddle.” Jisung smiles brightly, already excited for what's to come. 

“So which do you pick, princess?” Hyunjin folds his hands together and rests his chin on them while waiting for her answer.

“Ummm…” She looks at all of them for a moment before taking a deep breath reminding herself that she actually has a say in things now and that no one will be upset with her for what she chooses. “I wanna see Five Feet Apart if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Changbins eyes soften at her. “Five votes for it makes it the winner.”

“Yes.” Felix and Jisung high five each other. 

“Kitten, why don’t you go change into something comfier and grab whatever extra pillows and blankets are in the closest that we can set up in the bed of the truck.” Minho stands up to start cleaning. “We’ll get everything cleaned up so we can head on out as quickly as possible.”

“Okay.” The omega stands and quickly goes to her room to change as she hears the sounds of plates and dishes being handled. 

“Why’d you send her off like that?” Jisung frowns as Minho takes his and Felix’s plates. “I thought what she was wearing was just fine.”

“Because I wanted your guys' opinions on something I had bought at the craft fair.” Minho places the plates in the sink before pulling the collar with the amethyst compass rose pendant out of his pocket showing it to all of them.

“Is that?” Chan moves closer to look at it while everyone sits there gapping at it. 

“The booth was run by a nice alpha and omega couple, everything is handmade.” Minho gives Chan the collar so he can look at it and they can all pass it around. “I just felt that the compass rose was a good symbol for us and the omega said that amethysts is a symbol of faithful loves and a popular choice for those seeking a soulmate. Or something like that.” 

“I think you put more thought into this than you did for my collar.” Felix says as he looks at the pendant. 

“Lixie, you were determined to pick out your own collar, you didn’t give us a choice.” Chan nudges the omega.

“Because I’m picky with what I wear.” Felix pouts, handing the collar to Jisung before placing his hand on his own collar around his neck. “But I do love mine and I think Y/n will love this one.”

“So is this the one we’re gonna collar her with?” Hyunjin admires the pendant. 

“Does everyone agree?” Chan asks and they all nod in excitement.

“I think it’s perfect.” Changbin hands the collar back to Minho.

“Chan, as pack alpha it’s only right that you give it to her.” He hands it back to the oldest male.

“But you were the one who found it.”

“And Felix found his own collar but you were still the one to collar him.” Jeongin speaks up.

“We all agree as pack alpha you should do it, Channie.” Seungmin forces him to fold his fingers around the collar before moving his hand to his pocket. 

“I’ll do it tonight while we’re all in the bed of the truck. That way everyone is there.” Chan nods as he places it safely in his pocket. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Felix, Y/n and Jisung move around the bed of the truck situating the pillows and blankets almost making a form of nest for everyone. Chan and Jeongin watch over the three of them as Minho, Changbin, Seungmin and Hyunjin went to the snack bar to get drinks and snacks. The second car is parked right next to the truck, the trunk open, back seats down and also set up with some blankets and pillows in case anyone gets too cold and wants to move inside the vehicle. 

“You guys are just so cute.” Jeongin gawks at them which results in him getting hit in the head with a pillow by Jisung gaining a laugh from the omegas.

Jeongin grunts and his eyes show that he’s about to put the beta in his place but Chan stops the young alpha. “Not in public, Innie.”

“But hyung, he started it.” 

“Don’t give me that tone, pup.” Chan asserts his dominance causing Jeongin to pout a little, making Jisung laugh. “Ji, you have no room to laugh, you did start it, don’t push it.”

“Alright, we’re done.” Felix announces hoping to defuse the situation between the three of them.

“And just in time.” Changbin calls out as he rounds the truck holding popcorn and a drink carrier, Minho, Hyunjin and Seungmin following behind with more drink carriers and popcorn or candy. “We’ve got the food.”

Jeongin gets in the truck and takes the food from them to place around. Felix and Jisung claim a corner of the truck and start cuddling as Minho gets into the bed of the truck and grabs their snacks and drinks, handing it to them. Changbin and Chan help Seungmin and Hyunjin get up into the truck before climbing up themselves.

Chan moves over near the two already cuddling and pulls Y/n along so she can lay against him. Hyunjin follows wanting cuddles from his alpha too. Changbin sits down before manhandling Seungmin into his lap and the beta allows it. And Minho moves over to pull Jeongin to him from where he’s kneeled, still watching the female omega like he’s been doing since their date. 

“She’s okay, pup, relax.” Minho whispers into the youngest alphas hair as he’s pulled to his chest. “I’m proud of you for being observant of her but you’re hovering too much. Has she seemed to be actining any differently or on edge, more than normal?”

“No.” Jeongin shakes his head.

“Exactly. I know we were all worried because of her asking you to scent her into subspace but I genuinely think she was just wanting to experience it after she and Felix talked about it.” Minho reassures him. “You should be proud that she trusts you to do that for her. Be happy, okay.”

“Hey, babygirl, we’ve got something for you.” Chan says pushing on Y/n and Hyunjin a little so he can sit up.

The omega looks at him confused before looking at everyone else who are watching with excitement before turning back to Chan as he pulls something out of his pocket. Her eyes widen as she gasps when she sees the pendant necklace.

“Is that?” She covers her mouth in disbelief.

“We want to collar you if you’ll let us.” Chan smiles at her, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Even though we all haven’t claimed you yet, we wanted something to show to you that we’ll be yours forever.”

“We know that not all omegas enjoy being collared, and it’s okay if you don’t want to be.” Hyunjin speaks up when she still hasn’t said anything. 

“But we still wanted to give you one just like we did with Felix when he came out to us.” Changbin explains and Y/n looks over at the other omega and he shows off his collar he’s wearing. 

She takes it from Chan to get a closer look. “It’s beautiful.”

“Minho hyung picked it out.” Jisung nudges her leg with his foot and the girl looks over at the second oldest alpha whose ears are burning red. 

“I felt that the compass rose was a good representation of how we came to be.” The alpha watches her lovingly. “We were lost without you, you were lost on your own, and we managed to find each other, as if you were meant to run out of gas at that park because your true north was there or something.”

“Hyung, you’re getting sappy on us.” Seungmins groans, gaining a pinch to the side from Changbin who's still holding the beta in his lap. 

Y/n starts to tear up and she quickly wipes her cheeks. “I love you guys.” She finally admits to all of them, her lip still trembling a little with overwhelming emotions, and her tears just keep coming.

She gets a chorus of “we love you too” as they all sit up to give her a group hug and they tell her not to cry. 

“It’s happy tears.” She tries to laugh a little as they all hold her. When they all eventually pull away, she turns to Chan and gives him the collar. “Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course baby girl.” He kneels behind her and puts it around her neck as she holds her hair out of the way. 

Once it's clasped in place she puts her hand over it and smiles before showing it off, everyone admiring her. They all still can’t believe that the beautiful omega in front of them is theirs.

______________________________________________________________

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@pineapplekitty3-16 @straykidslover2024

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Unspoken Boundaries

Marshall Mathers sat in his studio, earbuds in place as he played through some beats. His mind, however, wasn’t on his music. His thoughts kept drifting to her—Y/N. His wife. The one person who had always been his anchor, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life.

She was a model—always had been—but this time was different. For the first time, she'd agreed to be in a music video. Just not his. Another rapper had offered her the role, and after years of turning down similar offers, she'd decided it was time to take the leap.

“Marsh, I’ve got something to tell you,” she had said earlier, her eyes filled with excitement.

“What’s up, babe?” He’d asked, looking up from his work.

She had been nervous. "I’m going to be in a music video. It’s for [Rapper's Name]."

Marshall had smiled, genuinely happy for her. She’d been working hard for years, building her career, and this was a huge opportunity. “That’s amazing, baby,” he’d said, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”

She’d smiled softly, but there was a glint of hesitation in her eyes. “It’s just... it’s not like what you’re used to. You know, I’ve never done something like this before. I just wanted you to know I’m doing it for me.”

“I get it,” he’d reassured her. “You’ve got this.”

But as the day of the shoot arrived, Marshall’s mind started to race. He kept thinking about her—his wife—being on set with someone else. He tried to push the thoughts down. She wasn’t just his wife; she was a professional, and this was a career move. Still, he couldn’t shake the discomfort that built in his chest as he imagined another man—another rapper—around her.

The day passed slowly. Every time his phone buzzed with another update from the set, his stomach tightened. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling inside, but seeing pictures of her on set, looking so confident, so beautiful, made something stir in him. Then came the shot that did it—the shot. He saw the rapper’s hand on her waist. It was casual, nothing suggestive, but the image was enough to send a surge of jealousy coursing through his veins.

When she finally came home that night, Marshall was sitting in the living room, his hands restless on his lap as he tried to stay calm. He’d been pacing for hours, but when she walked through the door, he froze.

She stepped inside, looking tired but still glowing. Her eyes met his, and she hesitated for a moment.

“Hey, baby,” she said softly, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and warmth.

He didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t. His chest felt tight, his jealousy bubbling up again, but this time, it was different. This time, it was laced with something else—worry. “How’d it go?” he asked, his voice strained despite his efforts to keep it steady.

She shrugged off her jacket, running a hand through her hair. “It was good. I mean, it was fine, but...” She hesitated, biting her lip as if weighing how much to say.

Marshall’s mind raced, the image of the rapper’s hand on her waist flashing in his mind. “But what?” he asked, his voice low, almost too calm.

She paused, her gaze shifting toward the floor. “It just felt... weird, you know? He had his hand on me during some of the scenes, and it... I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being touched like that by someone else.”

Marshall’s heart dropped at her words. The jealousy, the worry—it all suddenly made sense. It wasn’t about the job. It was about her comfort, her boundaries. She had been in an uncomfortable situation, one that had nothing to do with the work itself but everything to do with what felt right for her.

He stepped toward her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t realize—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I was being selfish. I just... I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

She smiled at him, a tired but affectionate smile. “It wasn’t that bad. It’s just... I never wanted to be in a position like that, you know? I’ve always kept my distance from that kind of thing. I didn’t expect to feel so... off about it.”

Marshall reached out and cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it now. I just... I hate the thought of anyone else having a piece of you, even if it’s just for a second. You’re mine. Always have been.”

Her eyes softened, and she leaned into his touch. “I know. And I’m still yours. But it was just... one of those things. I couldn’t do it, Marsh. I couldn’t let him get too close, even if it was for the job.”

Marshall’s chest swelled with relief, but a sudden thought crossed his mind—an idea he’d been too hesitant to voice before. “Then maybe... maybe it’s time for you to be in one of my videos.”

She looked at him, surprise flashing in her eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice firm but full of affection. “I want you in my video. You’ve been by my side through all of this, and I think it’s about time the world gets to see us together, the way it should be. I don’t want you to be in anyone else’s video unless it’s with me.”

[Y/N] smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing as she wrapped her arms around him. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice warm. “I’ve been wanting it for so long. No one else should have that privilege.”

She kissed him then, her lips soft and tender against his. “I’d love to, Marsh. Let’s make it happen.”

Marshall felt a sense of relief flood through him, a peace that only came when she was near. He knew they were both in this together, and she wasn’t just his wife—she was his partner, his equal. No matter how many other men might try to get close to her, she would always come back to him.

And now, more than ever, he was determined to share that with the world.

[theemissuniverse]

“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)

CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit

MASTERLIST

No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.

The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.

He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.

Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.

You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.

He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.

That’s just the type of person Henry was.

He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.

This was it.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?”

You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.

Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”

You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”

You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”

Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”

“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”

When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”

“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“

Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.

He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”

You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”

Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.

And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.

And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.

“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.

Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.

You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.

It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.

You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.

Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.

You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.

Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.

“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.

“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.

“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.

He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”

“Then have me.”

Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.

You were his now. In a strange way.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |13|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

You punched the sandbag over and over again. Your eyes were closed as you let the thumping of your fists hitting the bag fill your ears. Inside your head though, you couldn’t stop picturing the look of horror on Joey’s face, the fear she felt at seeing you change into a monster. You punched harder and faster when more memories flashed through your mind, waking up covered in blood, having to fight off a pack of werewolves, and lastly Cody dying.

“Hey,” a muffled voice said, though familiar, you couldn’t place who it belonged to. “Hey!” The voice got louder making you tilt your head; you still couldn’t quite place who it was though. “Hey!” Came as if the person were right next to you, finally making you snap out of your trance.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked down as your fist had gone through the punching bag and sand was now pouring out of the hole. You instantly ripped your fist out, causing even more sand to pour out. You looked down at your hand when you caught sight of a spec of red and saw your wrapping, which was originally white, was now stained red.

“Come on,” Grace said. You jumped, whipping your head around to see Grace right next to you, she had been the one calling you before.

She gently took you by the arm and led you out of the gym. You let out a sigh and kept your eyes on the floor, it had been a long time since you had done something like that. When you first started working out to calm down and burn energy you had quite literally tore through most of the equipment. You might not have been able to remember your time as a wolf still, but you were doing better at keeping your emotions, specifically your temper, in check.

Grace led you to the bathroom just off of the gym, and she nodded for you to take a seat. You sat there quietly as she gathered her stuff. Even if it had been a while Grace got to work as if it had been just yesterday.

“Let me see,” she said softly.

You hissed as you opened both your hands, and your claws came out of your skin. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“You never have to apologize.” Grace began dabbing a wet cloth around the wounds. You healed quickly and a wound this shallow, even from your own claws would only take a moment but Grace still liked to clean around the area.

“Which one were you thinking about?” Grace asked, she never even looked up from what she was doing. Your wounds had already started to close up and she was basically just wiping away the blood.

“Both of them,” you mumbled.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You let out what was meant to be a humorless laugh, but you couldn’t even get that out, so it turned into more of a huff.

“Hey,” Grace said a little louder, she gently lifted your chin with her finger, forcing you to meet her eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

You nodded; you didn’t really believe her words but there was no use arguing with Grace on this subject. “What’s up?” You asked, attempting to change the subject. “Or were you just worried about me?”

“I always worry about you,” Grace smiled. “But we have a job.”

You nodded. “Where at?”

“Canada.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, it wasn’t the farthest you traveled, it wasn’t even the first time you’ve had to go out of the country for a job. “What’s up?” you followed Grace out of the bathroom.

“There’s been reports of missing hikers for a while now.”

You nodded, that didn’t exactly scream supernatural, hikers went missing all the time, especially depending on the area. “Know what we’re dealing with?” You followed Grace to her office. You tilted your head as Grace hesitated when reaching for the doorknob.

“We’re not sure,” she said slowly but you could tell she was holding something back. “There’s been reports of howls.” She pushed open the door and the two of you entered her office.

You sucked in a breath. “I’m sure there’s wolves all over Canada.”

Grace nodded but didn’t seem fully convinced, not that you were either. “The good news is the attacks don’t match a werewolf.” You released a breath, it wasn’t good people were dying, it not being a werewolf meant you had no idea what it could be, but at least you didn’t have to face a pack again. “The attacks are sporadic; hikers go into the woods and don’t come out.”

You nodded along. You glanced at the bulletin board Grace already had all set up, there was a large map of the forest you could be traveling to. On the map there were red and yellow push pins.

“Location of attacks?” You asked, pointing to one of the red pins.

“Where the bodies were found,” Grace corrected. “The yellow are the campsites.”

You furrowed your brow. Usually attacks happened in the same place as where the people were last scene, it was rare for a monster to drag its prey somewhere else. You tilted your head, the locations were close, but it was clear the hikers either wandered off from their campsite and were attacked or the monster dragged them to another location. On top of all that was the fact that the attacks were spread through the forest, none of the pins were in the same spot.

“Call Joey,” Grace said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “See when the best time is for her to leave.” You remained frozen, your eyes glued to the bulletin board. “Do you want me to call?” You really didn’t, you didn’t want Joey coming with you. She agreed to continue working with you but that didn’t mean she was ready to travel out of the country and go out into the woods with you, alone.

Grace didn’t wait for you to answer though as she stepped away to call Joey. You knew you were a coward, Joey called you specifically to tell you she’d keep working with you. You didn’t know how okay she was with everything though; you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near yourself if the roles were reversed.

“We’re in luck,” Grace said as she came back over. “Caleb is at his dads this weekend, she just had to drop him off then you’re all set to go. Just got to be back by Sunday night so she can pick him up.”

You nodded. You were sure you could do it; you had a long drive but leaving after Caleb got dropped off would give you day Saturday and part of Sunday. You were more worried about being stuck in a car with Joey for nine hours. The most you spent together was a little over an hour and there wasn’t much talking done, you weren’t sure how nine hours of silence would go.

“You’ll be fine,” Grace reassured as she rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s just go over the case,” you said, focusing on what you were meant to be hunting would keep your mind preoccupied from thinking about Joey, at least that’s what you hoped.

“Well,” Grace turned to face the board. “There’s not much info, considering no one had survived an attack.

 You let out a hum, it wasn’t like most people would run around telling everyone they were attacked by a monster if they survived. You know you didn’t, you didn’t speak a word about being kidnapped, let alone about werewolves. Screaming about monsters was the quickest way to get locked up not to get help or stop said monsters.

“There are reports from groups that were camping who lost one or two of the people they were with,” Grace continued. You furrowed your brow; it wasn’t out of the question to allow others to live but it was certainly uncommon. “They say their friends wandered off, usually together for one reason or another,” Grace rolled her eyes, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Anyway,” her voice got louder as she glared at you. “They never returned, the rest of the group always reported noises.”

“What kind of noises?” You asked, furrowing your brow. It was a large forest, noises weren’t uncommon, it could have literally been anything. When one adds the supernatural to the list then things just got even more confusing and hard to narrow down.

Grace shook her head and gave a little shrug. “Voices.”

“Like from their friends?” You tilted your head; these people didn’t seem like good friends if they listened to their friends being attacked by something and did nothing.

“Various voices, usually calling out their names.”

“And they don’t go after them?”

“The ones that did never came back.” You sucked in a breath, whatever the creature was either could mimic human voices to lure away its prey away or it was strong and terrifying enough to force its victims to lead their friends to their own death as well.

“So, what’s the plan?” You crossed your arms. The forest was big, hundreds of people hiked and camped it every day. There was also no telling where a monster would strike, it moved around, it could come after you, or it could attack campers’ miles away.

“Most attacks seem to be here,” Grace picked up a red marker and drew a circle around an area on the map. Most of the attacks seemed to happen within the circle, with only a few outliers, but despite what it looked like on the map you knew it was a lot of ground to cover. “So, I’m thinking you park around here,” she made a little dot at another spot. “You hike through here,” she drew a line to represent the path. “And camp around here,” she made another little dot.

“Camp?” Your eyes snapped to Grace. “Camping? Like in a tent?”

“That is how camping generally works,” Grace deadpanned.

Your eyes went wide at the thought. It wasn’t that you disliked camping, you loved being outside, you were pretty sure it was a werewolf thing. The idea of being in a tent with Joey though, that was another story. This was going to be the first time she got in a car with you, asking her to sleep next to you in a small space was a lot.

“You’ll be fine,” Grace said.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you mumbled.

“She wouldn’t have agreed to continue working with us if she was truly uncomfortable.” Grace’s gaze softened, she seemed to understand where you were coming from.

“Asking her to sleep next to me after I almost tore her apart feels much different than just working together.” You crossed your arms, you could probably just take a sleeping bag and sleep right outside the tent, that would probably be better for everyone.

“It’s not a full moon.” Grace rested a hand on your shoulder, making you look up at her. “You will be fine.”

You nodded with a huff, even if you disagreed you knew there was no other way. The only other option would be to not bring Joey along but that probably wouldn’t go over too well with Grace or Joey. “I’ll be in contact with you if you need anything,” Grace assured.

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Come on,” she nodded her head. “I’ll help you pack all the stuff.”

You gave her a soft smile and followed her to the garage. She had more than one garage and sadly she didn’t bring you to the one with all the cars, she brought you to the one filled with a bunch of junk. You knew she wouldn’t appreciate you calling it junk, but that’s what it looked like, even if everything inside was incredibly expensive and got a lot of use.

When she opened the garage door to let in some light you jogged off to pull your car around. You appreciated Grace being willing to help pack the Jeep, but you weren’t about to make her walk back and forth to load everything up. Grace was tossing everything she thought you’d need into the middle of the garage as you backed the car up.

You tossed a tent in first, it seemed perfectly sized for two people. Then Grace tossed in two sleeping bags, one blue and the other silver. “And here,” she said, handing you a black backpack. You looked down to see a matching red one sitting at her feet. “One for each of you,” she pointed to the packs. “Stocked with flashlights, lanterns, hunting knives-”

“A gun?” You asked, cutting her off.

She rolled her eyes. “Not across the border.”

You chuckled and nodded. You could take guns across the border, but you needed papers for them, which Grace could easily get, but all of that would raise questions. As much as having a gun would, potentially, make the job easier, drawing attention to yourselves would make it ten times harder.

You had just shut the trunk to the jeep when your phone vibrated, showing you got a text from Joey. “Perfect timing,” you mumbled.

Grace followed you as you walked around the side and hopped in the car. “Be careful,” she said, leaning against the door. “I’ll keep researching, see if anything pops out.” You nodded. “And if you see anything-”

“I’ll call it in,” you finished for her. “As soon as I know something, so will you.”

“I can’t help if I don’t have enough information.”

You nodded, there had been far too many missions where you didn’t know how to kill the monster until you called Grace and told her something new. It was insane how the most seemingly mundane information could lead to identifying a creature. Sometimes knowing what it looked like, or specific features it had, to how it killed, or how it left its victims, could show what you were up against. There were plenty of creatures that were similar but there was always something that separated them.

“I know,” you assured her. “We got this.” Grace hesitated to step away from the Jeep but eventually nodded and took a step back so you could pull away. She always got like this when there was a mission out of state, especially when she wasn’t going with you. There were few times when you’d go on a mission completely solo, Grace usually came with you and set up in a motel or in an unsuspecting van nearby.

With that you made your way to Joey’s. She had texted you saying she had just dropped Caleb off, and you were good to pick her up. You tried to focus on the fact that she messaged you and not Grace, despite Grace being the one who called her. You briefly considered the idea that maybe Grace was right and everything would be fine, if Joey was contacting you then maybe she truly was okay with doing this.

Your worrying seemed to pay off because before you knew it you were at Joey’s apartment. You shot her a text saying you were there. Your fingers drummed against the wheel as you tried your hardest not to glance at the door. Every time you felt your eyes drift towards the door you instantly forced your eyes to look straight ahead. Time felt endless before you heard the passenger door open and Joey hop in but when you glanced at the clock you saw it hadn’t even been five minutes.

“Hey,” you rasped out, instantly clearing your throat. You shifted in your seat, trying to force yourself to relax, it was going to be a long drive if you remained tense this whole time.

“Hey,” she greeted.

You left it at that and pulled back out onto the road. Your GPS was already set for Algonquin Park, and it looked like it was going to be a little over a nine-hour drive, that was if you didn’t make any stops. Your fingers tapped the steering wheel as you tried not to look at Joey, you would do your best to make this silent car as least awkward as possible.

“Are you serious?” Joey asked, breaking the silence. You glanced at the clock, you had only been in the car twenty minutes, you weren’t even out of the city yet and somehow, you’d already managed to annoy her. You flicked a glance at her but quickly went back to staring at the road ahead.

You heard Joey scoff and caught her rolling her eyes out of the corner of your eye. “You’re really not going to speak to me for nine hours?” She asked.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse. You finally sighed, you were stuck in a car with her for nine hours, on top of about to be spending the weekend sleeping next to her in a tent, you couldn’t exactly avoid her.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to,” you admitted quietly. “You agreed to continue working with me, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable.” Your eyes widened at that, and you couldn’t help but finally fully look at Joey. She was staring out the windshield, her elbow resting on the door and her head resting on her hand, she looked just as at ease as she had during any other car ride. “I’d prefer if you didn’t try and kill me again,” she chuckled, and your mouth twitched but you still couldn’t bring yourself to laugh along with her. “But I just want things to go back to normal.”

Joey turned and met your eyes, you stared at her, trying to get a read on how truthful she was being, even though she had no reason to lie. “But no more lies,” she said as she continued to stare you in the eye.

You nodded, being honest with her was the least you could do after she agreed to give you another chance. “No more lies,” you repeated.

“Good.” Joey finally broke eye contact and fell back into her original position.

You weren’t sure what it was about such a simple conversation but your shoulders instantly relaxed and you flexed your fingers to loosen your grip around the wheel. You reached over and turned up the music a bit, not missing the small smile that tugged at Joeys lips. You were still unsure about a lot, especially sharing a tent with Joey but at least the car ride wouldn’t be awkward, unless you managed to make it awkward, which was possible, you did have nine hours to do or say something stupid after all.

“So, where are we going?” Joey asked as she leaned forward to get a better look at the GPS.

“Algonquin Provincial Park,” you answered, you had spent a good while memorizing the name so you would say it right. “In Canada.”

Joey let out a hum. “That’s why Grace told me to bring my passport.” You nodded. You generally used your real passport for traveling out of the country, you were sure Grace knew a guy who could make a good fake but if you got caught it would cause all the trouble you didn’t want to be getting into. “What are we dealing with? Grace didn’t give me many details.”

“That’s cause there’s not much to tell,” you sighed. “Some campers have been going missing, for years now.”

“And it’s just now being investigated?” You shrugged. Campers and hikers all over the world went missing, sometimes it was simply the place they were at was dangerous or majority of the time they were someone inexperienced who got in over their head.

“It’s hard to know if missing people are just missing or something weird happened.”

Joey let out a hum. “So, how to find something if we don’t know where exactly it’s at or what exactly attracts it?”

You gave a little shrug. “Just got to hope it attacks us or we stumble upon who it does go after.”

“Great,” Joey said, clearly not pleased at the plan.

“Which,” you said slowly, your eyes darting from Joey back to the road. “We’re going to be camping, so we’ll have to share a tent.”

Joey was silent for a moment, and you actually had to turn and look to make sure she wasn’t regretting agreeing to come with you, you still had time to turn around if she was. She was just looking at you though, her eyebrows all scrunched together.

“Okay?” She said, though it sounded more like a question. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, you were confused why she seemed so confused. “Wait,” she tilted her head. “Did you think I’d have a problem with that?”

“I mean,” you shrugged. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to sleep next to the monster that almost killed you,” you whispered.

You stared ahead at the dark road before you, you weren’t sure you could look at Joey again. “I’m not scared of you.”

Your eyes fell slightly. “Maybe you should be.”

“I was scared in the moment.” You closed your eyes as if Joey’s words physically hurt you. “But I know that’s not you, all you’ve ever done is protect me.” You decided to risk a glance at Joey and saw nothing but care in her eyes. “And I can’t hold that against you, not when you’ve never held my past against me.”

You smiled at that then continued the drive in silence. The two of you made a little conversation here and there but it was an otherwise quiet trip, besides the music playing. It was a comfortable silence like it usually was with the two of you in the car, much better than the tense awkward silence you figured you’d be experiencing at the moment.

About halfway through the drive, you pulled off the side of the road and into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner. You figured eating before crossing the border was best because once you got into Canada you’d want to get to the park as quick as possible. It was already going to be dark when you started setting up camp, but you were hoping to at least get a little sleep.

You and Joey made your way into the diner and took a seat at one of the booths by the window, not in the far corner but with the perfect vantage of seeing the front door, your car, the register, and even into the window that led to the grill. There were a few other customers, even though it was dinner time it seemed to be mostly truckers that stopped. Almost as soon as you sat down an older blonde woman with her hair all done up came over and sat two menus in front of you.

You flipped open the menu, letting an impressed hum at the amount of food they offered. After a couple minutes the woman came back and took your and Joey’s order, only to return a moment later and sit the drinks you both ordered down.

“Did you ever look for a cure?” Joey whispered after the waitress walked away.

Your eyes snapped up and you dropped the straw wrapped you had been playing with. You should have expected that question; it was a rather reasonable thing to be curious about, but you couldn’t help your surprise at Joeys directness.

You cleared your throat, even though you didn’t need to, and sat up a bit straighter. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Spent my first year with Grace scouring over every shred of information I could find, no matter where it came from.”

“And nothing?”

You shook your head. “Grace offered to keep digging but I was losing it.” You remembered back to that time, when you would stay away until you passed out. Anytime a cure seemed like it might actually work and wasn’t just complete bullshit you tried it, you practically tortured yourself trying to find a cure, but nothing ever panned out. “I had to call it off and just accept my reality, it would have driven me mad if I continued.”

Joey let out hum and gave you a sympathetic smile. She opened her mouth to ask something else but snapped it shut when the waitress came back. She put the plate of food down in front of the two of you and your mouth started watering at the sight. One of the odd perks of being a werewolf was the insatiable hunger. Which would normally be a problem because you were hungry, all the time, but when something that looked and smelled this good was placed in front of you, you didn’t want to stop eating.

Once the two of you finished your meal you paid the bill then left a nice tip for the woman at the table. You hopped back into the car and then the two of you were on your way again. “What were you going to say?” You asked, glancing at Joey. “Before the food came.”

“Have you met other werewolves?” Joey asked cautiously. “Besides the ones who…”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking down before going back to the road. “Every pack is different, they didn’t all hunt like the one who…” you cleared your throat. “But they still all have a similar mentality.”

“Have you killed others before?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Not another pack, I’m not sure how I survive that first one honestly, I’d say luck but…” You shook your head, trying to keep the memories from that night away. “Got lucky that the few packs I’ve come across weren’t the threat, they’re dangerous but a lone wolf is dangerous and unpredictable.”

“Is that what you are?” You nodded. “Is that why you were so…”

“No,” you sighed, you wished you had that excuse, that if you had a pack everything would be better, but it wouldn’t be. “Having Grace helps, usually a lone wolf is completely on their own, struggling to make it and killing anything and everything in their path when they shift.”

“And you don’t desire a pack?”

You could feel Joey’s eyes on you, but you kept your eyes forward. “No.” That ended the discussion, you didn’t want to get into all the details about why you didn’t want a pack.

Joey seemed to leave it that because the rest of the drive was silent. You crossed over into Canada with no problem. You continued on with the drive towards the park. Before you got to the park you pulled off into a small gas station.

“I’m going to fill up,” you said. “You want to pick out some snacks? I can meet you inside after.” Joey nodded and hopped out of the car and made her way inside. You hopped out and swiped your card.

As you waited for the tank to fill up you looked around, getting a better look as to where you were. There was hardly anything around except for the gas station, which was dead except for you and Joey. You constantly looked back at the building, making sure you could still see Joey through the windows, you weren’t sure what it was about this place that had you on edge.

When the tank was finally full you made your way into the store. Right to your left as you entered was a cashier, a large, bearded man who was counting something. He didn’t so much as even glance in your direction, but something told you he knew you were there.

You walked further into the store and turned right down an aisle with chips. Your eyes skimmed the shelves until you finally snagged your favorite type of chip. You rounded the aisle in search of Joey and glanced to the left again, there was another employee stocking the shelves. It was a younger guy, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he continued to pull bags of candy out of a box and stuff them in their home on the shelf.

You weren’t sure what it was about the kid that gave you pause but continued on your way. Most gas stations you’d been to only had one employee working, exotically so late, there wasn’t usually need for more. You tried to shake it off, it could very easily be a requirement because of safety, or this was a family-owned location, and the two guys were related.

“Find anything?” You asked when you finally found Joey looking at the drinks. Joey turned and held up a bag of gummy worms. You let out a hum of approval and then opened one of the fridge doors to grab a water.

You and Joey made your way to the counter. As you passed the aisle that the employee had been in you noticed that he had moved further up in the aisle, closer to the register. The kid was still hunched over, pulling out items from a box but you walked on joeys left side, making sure she was farthest away from the kid.

When you got to the register you set all the items on the counter. The large man behind the counter instantly stopped what he was doing, as if it weren’t important at all, and began ringing you out. The man was silent for the most part as he scanned the items and placed them in the bag.

“It’s awfully late,” the man said, his voice just as gruff and deep as you thought it would be. “Where you two kids headed?”

You and Joey shared a look. “Algonquin Provincial Park,” Joey answered. The man paused his movements as he bagged one of the items, anyone else would have missed it but not you. “We’re going camping.”

“It’s dangerous up there, been a lot of people going missing.” You glanced out the side of your eye to see the kid come out of the aisle and pretend to be stocking one of the endcaps.

“I think we can handle it,” you said.

“That’s what they all say,” he said.

He looked up from the bag and stared you directly in the eye. You narrowed your eyes in challenge. You didn’t know what this dudes deal was, but you weren’t going to back down.

“Come on,” Joey whispered, resting a hand on your chest as her other arm snaked around your back. “Let’s get out of here,” she leaned close to your ear. “I’m tired,” she pressed her body against yours.

You finally broke your stare down and looked at Joey, your gaze instantly softening. “Of course,” you said softly. You pulled out your money and paid the man, not even bothering to wait for your change before you snatched up the bag and wrapped an arm around Joey’s waist as you led her out of the store.

You kept the act up, neither of you letting go of the other until you reached the car. You even went as far as to opening the door for Joey and handing her the bag of items you bought once she was situated. You jogged around the front of the car and hopped in, quickly starting it and pulling off back onto the road.

“What the hell was that?” Joey asked, looking back as the gas station slowly disappeared from view.

“I don’t know,” you said, looking in the rearview mirror to make sure no one had followed you. “Let’s just get to the campsite.” You shook your head, you had missed something at the gas station, you just didn’t know what.

The drive the rest of the way was rather uneventful. The park wasn’t to far from the gas station and before you knew it you were parking the car. You and Joey hopped out of the car and grabbed the backpacks from the trunk. You looked around at the rest of the parking lot, there were a few cars that probably belonged to other campers, but it was otherwise empty, you were sure it would fill up by the morning though.

You grabbed the sleeping bags and connected them to the bottom of each of your backpacks, so you had one less item to carry. “Ready?” you asked, glancing back at Joey.

“Yeah,” Joey said, though she wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at your surroundings.

You hoisted the tent up onto your shoulder, making sure to shut the trunk and lock the car before you got moving. Joey used a flashlight to find the trail you were meant to use. The two of you stuck close together as you worked your way to the camping spot. You kept your ears on high alert for any sort of voices or screaming, like what had been reported before, but you could only pick up on the usual nature sounds, running water a mile or so away, about a billion insects, and a few other small critters.

“We’re here,” Joey announced, looking down at the GPS.

You let out a sigh of relief as you dropped the bags and the tent onto the ground. While Joey got a fire started you worked on building the tent. Joey got the fire going almost instantly and spent the rest of the time watching you fight with the tent. You had been camping plenty of times but you either didn’t use a tent or Grace was the one who set it up.

“Guess we all have something we’re not good at,” Joey commented. You whipped your head around, shooting a glare at her. “Let me,” she stood up, taking whatever piece of the tent you had out of your hand.

You stepped back, holding your arms up in surrender. Joey quickly stepped past you and got to work setting up the tent. You furrowed your brow at how quickly the tent started to look like a tent.

“And there!” Joey said, gesturing proudly at the tent. You frowned down at the tent, sure it looked great but you felt like you contributed nothing. “Don’t worry,” Joey patted you on the shoulder. “You carried the stuff.” You continued to pout at that but took the win.

“Well,” you cleared your throat. “Guess we should get to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You grabbed one of the sleeping bags and turned around, looking for the best spot to lay it. You didn’t want to go to close to the fire, you might roll over and burn yourself, but you didn’t want to be too far away because you might get cold.

“What are you doing?” Joey asked. You looked back at her to see her raising an eyebrow at you.

“I just-” you started, looking around at the area.

“Get in the damn tent,” Joey snapped.

You nodded and did as she asked. If she wasn’t uncomfortable then you certainly weren’t going to argue about sleeping in the tent. You quickly got settled on one side inside the tent while Joey got settled on the other. You laid on your back, completely stiff, making sure you didn’t so much as brush against Joey. You already knew this would be a long night.

You must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing you knew you were shooting up, your eyes darting around to locate what had woken you up. You held your breath, focusing on nothing but the sounds going on outside the tent. After a moment you settled back down, you must have been dreaming of something. Just as you were about to lay back down a piercing scream echoed throughout, causing Joey to jump awake.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked.

You opened your mouth to answer her, but another scream cut you off. You moved into a sitting position, subconsciously sliding closer to Joey just in case something attacked. Another scream happened; this one sounded much more human than the previous ones.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Tactic

Wolfstar, February 2, word count 472

Previous part First part

“Oh, Remus, thank god you’re back. The laundry is a disaster, I don’t, I don’t…” Jenny gasped as she began to hyperventilate. Remus put a hand on her back and led her to a chair. 

“Here, sit here, I’ll get you a glass of water.” He hurried into the break room and came back with some water for her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it sorted,” Once he was certain she wouldn’t pass out, he went to see what exactly was wrong with the laundry room. 

He paled when he saw it. There were piles of washing all over the place. Blues mixed in with whites. Towels with tablecloths. He’d need to implement a new tactic to deal with the absolute chaos that some unknown troll had left. 

It took him over two hours to get things into a semblance of order. His first loads of washing were nearly done, and his dryers were clean and waiting. By lunchtime, you wouldn’t have known anything had been out of place that morning. Jenny was so grateful that she treated him to lunch, and he got the best burger he’d ever had. He made a note of the place they went so he could take Sirius there. 

“So, Remus, how’s life? Did you sort out what was going on?” Jenny asked as she sipped her drink. Remus nearly choked on the bite of burger he was in the process of swallowing. 

“Erm, what?” He’d told Jenny he had the flu. 

“Come on, Remus, you’ve never taken a sick day, ever, and you’re guzzling that burger down like you want to make love to it, there is no way you just had flu. You don’t have to tell me the details, but you so weren’t sick.” Remus put his burger down and nervously took a sip of his coke. “Remus, don’t worry. I’m not going to dob you in. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and offer to listen if you wanted to talk about it,” Jenny reassured him. He felt some of the colour come back to his face. For a second there, he’d been sure he was about to be fired. 

“Erm, yeah, sorry about that. I had a bit of a shock and needed a few days. I wasn’t sure I’d get the time off if I didn’t say I was sick. Sorry,” 

“Is everything sorted now?” Jenny asked, popping a chip into her mouth. He nodded. “Good, then everything is good. I can’t lose you, Remus. You saw what Graham did in a day. Yeah, that was just from yesterday, and the others weren’t much better. I honestly don’t know how I’d cope without you,” 

Feeling much better after his chat with Jenny, Remus returned to his laundry room only to find a rather unexpected surprise waiting for him. 

Next part

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

[corrosionbunni]

The Secret to Happiness

One shot

Summary: After being found wandering empty roads, you’ve found home at a prison. You’ve grown a reputation of being a constant beam of happiness. After a spontaneous night of drinking and a game of truth or dare, one question burns bright. What is your secret?

Fluff/slight angst

Word count: 1443

Pairing: Daryl x female reader (or not female only gendered term used once towards the reader is ‘miss’)

Setting: prison era - season 4

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cigarettes

A/n: this is my first time writing in years, but it came to me in a dream. It’s also partially proof read but done so with the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses.

The night is cool as you sit cross-legged in the grass. Your skin heated from the heavy amount of Jack Daniels you have already downed. It’s safe to say, you are border-lining drunk. A constant smile is spread across your lips as you look at the group around you, illuminated by the small fire you’ve gathered around.

Maggie sat across from you. With one arm planted behind her to keep her up, Glenn lying on his side beside her, hand placed over hers. Sasha was on the other side of Maggie, with Rick beside her. On the other side of Glenn, Tyreese sat with an arm around Karen.

And finally, Beside you was Daryl. Silently taking sips of his whiskey.

“Okay!” Sasha chuckles, having just answered a question of ‘truth or dare’. “Who’s next? Daryl?”

“Nah, I’m not playin’”

“I know!” Maggie speaks up from where she’s sat, “How about little miss sunshine over here” She gestures towards you.

You lean forward slightly, grinning wide at Maggie. “Alright, give it to me!”

“Truth or dare?”

You cross one arm across your chest, the other being upwards as you tap a finger to your chin.

“Hmm. Let me think.. dare. ‘Cause I ain’t no pussy!” Laughter is heard from around the group. You keep smiling Maggie’s way. Drunk. You are definitely drunk.

“Okay,” Mirroring your grin. “I dare you… to kiss the hottest person here.”

“What are we, high schoolers?” You laugh, “Either way, I can’t do that. I’m already certain they can’t stand me, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll make them hate me more.” You say giggling, taking another sip.

“Okay then,” Maggie shifts slightly, “what’s the secret to being so happy all the time?”

“Well the thing is…” you draw your words out. still smiling wide, moving to position yourself on your knees, you can feel the cool grass making an indent on your knee where a hole has formed in your worn out jeans. “Secrets, are secret for a reason.” You beam widely.

“it’s the game, choose one.” Sasha chimes in.

You debate with yourself for a moment. Everyone awaiting your response.

“well, in that case.”

You turn to your side and place a hand under Daryl’s chin, stabling yourself as you place a short, yet sweet, kiss on his cheek.

Silence.

A surge of electricity goes straight through your chest as you quickly stand to your feet. “Well!” -anxiety- You exclaim, clapping your hands together, “I’d say that’s my queue to head off.” -panic- You brush off some grass that stayed sticking to the skin of one knee peaking through your jeans.

Everyone stuck in a trance of stunned silence.

“Goodnight!” You give a wave and make your leave.

Heart racing, your legs pull you across the grass, up through the gates. You don’t realise you’ve stopped until you’re planted on a bench in the courtyard.

You sit in a rigid silence for a few minutes. Internally screaming at yourself.

Why would you do that?

You can’t believe your actions.

You’ve had a crush on Daryl for a while now. But you never had any plans to act on it.

You were certain he could not stand you.

Anytime the two of you were left alone he’d not utter a single word. He wouldn’t even look at you.

And then there were the times you’d say something in your overly happy tone, he’d shake his head and you swear you could hear him scoff.

It seemed like he would avoid you at every chance he got, so it’s a surprise when the body that sits next to you belongs to the man himself.

You stay silent. Staring ahead. For once, not smiling.

Your peripheral vision allows you to see Daryl lighting up a cigarette. Taking a deep breathe in, exhaling the grey smoke.

He clears his throat slightly.

“Ya think I hate ya?” His voice low.

You nod, not knowing if he’s even looking at you to see, as you keep your stare ahead.

“How could I not? It doesn’t seem like you enjoy my presence very much.” Your voice is also low, a little defeated. “You won’t even talk to me.”

“Nah, I don’ hate ya. S’just- you’re so damn happy. It’s blindin’. Your blindin’.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. The smell of his cigarette wafting through the air.

“So wha’s the secret?”

“Hm?”

“Ta happiness.”

“Oh.” You let a small breathy laugh, looking down shaking your head.

“Uhm… I guess,” You pause, thinking for a second. “I Uhm, I don’t really know.”

Your voice gets quiet. “If I’m being honest,” you start picking at the frayed fabric of your jeans, “I don’t think I’ve ever truely felt happiness. It started as a way to distract myself from feeling any of the bad things. I somehow convinced myself that if I was going to put energy into anything, it may as well be a smile.” Daryl stays quiet beside you, “and it sorta just stuck.”

You finally turn your head to look him, but he’s already looking at you. The eye contact you hold felt heavy.

“Plus,” you break the eye contact to to stare ahead, “I think it’s better to have everyone see me endlessly happy than have them see me for what I really am.”

You both stay silent for a second before Daryl speaks up “And wha’s that?”

You turn your head to regain eye contact, your voice comes out soft, while with a small, a sad smile you state “a truely broken person.”

The two of you stay staring at each other, the faint sound of laughter can be heard from the group as a slight breeze carries the noise. Daryl bites his lip in that way he does, as his eyes flicker between yours and anywhere but you, simultaneously.

You clear your throat “I also want to say sorry.” “What for?” “For kissing you. I know it was just on the cheek, but still. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I am sorry”

“nah,” he shakes his head slightly. “Don’t be.” He moves his gaze ahead of him. “Was nice”

you feel your chest flutter for moment.

Staring at him, a lopsided grin growing on your face. “Yeah?”

He gives you a side glance before nodding again “yeah.”

With a new found confidence, carried by the work of Jack Daniels still in your system, your usual cheery persona returns.

“Well, if you liked that, I know a better place.”

He turns his head to you, confusion littering his expression.

“Better place?”

Your lips stretch into a wide closed mouth smile, as you gently tap your lips.

His eyes widen slightly, staring at where your finger now rests softly upon your lips.

“Would that be okay?” You ask, softly, but still confident. His body is a still as ever, eyes lifting to make eye contact once again.

He softly nods.

You turn your body to him, taking the hand that had once been pressing a finger to your lips, and use it to rest gently against his left cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he ever so slightly leans into your touch.

Your other hand moving down to rest on the bench infront of you to aid you in leaning closer to him.

You stop just in front of his face, looking to his still closed eyes and letting out a faint breath, before your own fall shut as you close the gap. Lips pressed together, gentle.

One singular kiss causing your whole body to send signals of pure joy throughout your entirety.

You part, faces still close, eyes still shut. The soft exchange age of air passing through both of your lips, the smell of whiskey and tobacco fill your nose.

He reaches a hand up to hold you. His index finger lay just below your ear, as your jaw rests just at the base of his thumb. Pulling you back in. This time the both of you lips move together, slowly, softly.

You both stop, lips still touching. Hands still placed on either one’s face. Slowly pulling away your face away, eyes opening.

The pair of you stare at each other, not saying anything.

Hands drops as you move back to your original position, both staring ahead. A small smile stuck in place.

Beside you, you hear a soft chuckle. You turn your head to look at him “what?”

He looks at you with the faintest smile, “nothin’.. just.” He lets out another chuckle as his smile grows a little more.

“Im thinking’ I just found my secret to happiness.”

[deeplywonderstruck]

there  was  something  very  intriguing  about  the  femme  before  him,  maxxie  couldn’t  exactly  point  out  what  it  was.  he  wasn’t  sure  if  it  was  the  fiery  red,  long  and  clearly  well  taken  care  of  hair,  her  general  aura  or  her  snappy  yet  entertaining  comebacks,  but  he  liked  her.  he  was  very  much  gay  and  that  was  obvious,  but  every  now  and  then,  he’s  had  a  few  females  who  he  has  genuinely  done  a  double  take  for,  in  the  most  respectable  way  possible.  she  could  probably  be  one  he  could  add  to  the  admittedly  very  short  list.  the  blonde  thinks  every  female  is  beautiful  in  their  own  way,  but  they  rarely  catch  his  attention  like  this.  he  can’t  help  but  chuckle  at  her  responses,  not  at  all  offended.  the  dutch  male  has  such  soft  boy  energy.  he  was  far  too  easy  going  and  let  things  slide  quite  easily,  even  when  he  shouldn’t.  it  almost  felt  like  a  challenge  to  wipe  that  stupid  grin  off  his  lips,  one  that  was  nearly  deemed  impossible  by  most.  “ cure  cancer? ”  another  laugh,  but  it’s  obvious  he’s  not  laughing  at  her.  more  than  anything,  he’s  very  amused  right  now.  “ that  one  hurt,  but  you’re  right.  i  can  make  time,  i’ve  just  been  procrastinating.  it’s  like, ”  he  leans  in  closer  on  the  table,  “ every  time  i  want  to  make  some  time,  something  happens,  then  i  just  forget.  the  other  day  i  wanted  to  go  and  what  happened?  slipped  on  some  black  ice,  fell  on  my  arse  and  was  in  so  much  pain,  i  forgot.  then  the  other  time  my…  situationship  called  and  i  clearly  had  to  ditch  all  my  plans  and  run  his  way,  because  how  fucking  weak  am  i?  how  can  my  mind  become  so  incredibly  clouded  when  some  good  dick  gets  put  into  the  equation?  apparently  very  much  so.  went  to  my  hometown  for  a  week  and  couldn’t  be  bothered  either.  went  on  several  shopping  sprees  and  got  far  too  distracted  with  nice  things  and  still  couldn’t  be  bothered.  and  as  of  recently?  i  didn’t  want  to  tell  anyone  this,  but, ”  he  looks  around,  as  if  he’s  about  to  tell  her  some  super  confidential  secret  only  nasa  is  in  on,  even  bothering  to  lean  in  closer  and  lower  his  tone,  “ i’ve  actually  been  making  some  serious  breakthrough  in  my  research,  which,  you  guessed  it,  is  finding  a  cure  for  cancer. ”  his  tone  is  so  deadpan,  anyone  would  think  he’s  serious.  he  eventually  laughs,  shrugging  and  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  looking  at  his  grown  out  nails.  “ i’ll  get  to  that  soon  enough,  at  that  place  you’ve  mentioned,  with  a  fantastic  yet  corny  name,  mind  you. ”

If Isabella had her way her nails would be blood red but sadly the ballet company required them to have something more ‘demure’ which is how she’d ended up with this particular design. If you could call it a design, that might be a big generous for how simple it was. At his compliment of the salon name she shrugged a single shoulder, sitting back in the chair. “I can’t take credit for that, it’s a bit corny if you want my honest opinion but they do a good job at a reasonable price so I’m not going to throw my toys out the pram.” The man in front of her seemed to let everything just roll off him, even her sharp comment had no effect which was new for Bella, normally she was met with hostility, which was valid because she often offered it out first. Then again that wasn’t what her previous observation had been, it had just been…well, factual. “Eventful?” That could mean so many different things and the redhead hated herself for it but it peaked her interest. That was her gossiping side coming out to play. “What is so eventful that you don’t have time to carve out a couple of hours for a manicure? No one is asking you to cure cancer, it’s just a salon appointment. You have time to sit here and have coffee, you have time to get your nails done."

[impossible-rat-babies]

okay I’m thinking about it being the Island Sanctuary—especially the sanctuary part. here is Tataru who watched you tentatively walk into the waking sands. probably did all the paperwork to get you settled in with the scions. watched with bated breath as adventure after adventure swept you up in its path. Carried you to greater and greater heights and watched you grow. Watched you take on all these burdens out of love and duty.

How through all of that she probably still thinks back to you so fresh faced and walking through those doors. how much she loves how far you’ve grown, but is so scared of how hard it’s been. She can only do so much to help; she’s just a simple girl—she knows money, politics and how to sew. she cannot do fantastical things.

So she does what she does best and she comes away with a whole island. just for you. a place all to your own—to do with as you please. A place to rest. A sanctuary. far far away from the stress of life. because god if she doesn’t think about that baby faced adventurer who came through her doors so very very long ago

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[cupiare]

walking into work tomorrow for the staff training day after i got rejected for the job i was near guaranteed to get and didn’t find out the news from my boss who i was with the whole morning in TUTOR PLANNING DAY FOR NEXT YR FOR TUTORIALS THAT TUTORS WOULD BE DOING THAT I WAS BOOKED INTO WITH THE TUTORS THE ROLE I APPLIED FOR AND HAD A VERY GOOD INTERVIEW FOR i found out from a noreply auto generated email from hr that was sent out as soon as i stepped out of the meeting room :) and then got invited back to the meeting for the rest of the day where my manager repeatedly talked about taking my good ideas from my interview and implementing them into tutorials next yr. after i got rejected via generated email. How we doing guys 😆

[7kh]

༉ sevika destroying your insides (real nd true!!).

cw — wlw, strap usage, strap is referred to as ‘cock’, husband sevika/wife reader. sevika is a meanie :(. title is exactly how it goes lol. men and minors dni. (ty for 700! <3)

you’ve been pent up all. damn. week. and it would be idiotic to assume that sevika didn’t catch up on what’s up with you, especially considering that she was the cause for all of it. when she first confronted you about it, you brushed it off, excusing it for your nerves and anxiety. nerves for what? you wouldn’t tell her.

the cycle continued for the rest of the days, until sevika decided she was done playing around in circles with you anymore. she was going to figure out what the fuck’s wrong with her wife.

you sat on one end of the couch while she was on the other end, counting money she earned from some washed up goons in one of her recent gambling fiascos. the shuffling and cackling of money filled the uncomfortable silence of the room before she was the first one to speak, “so you don’t got nothing else to say?”

you swallowed nervously, your palms slowly getting more hot and sweatier on your lap. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. i told you ’m fine.” you shrugged.

she looked and raised an eyebrow at you, “bullshit.”

“what’s wrong. tell me.” she says in a stern tone, one that you absolutely had to obey, one you couldn’t just scurry out of.

after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, you sighed deeply, bringing your head down so it faced your lap. “sevvy, i’ve been really… pent up, recently.” you say, so low that you were surprised sevika even heard you. but she didn’t say anything further, just a low hum to indicate that she was listening. like she already knew what was up with you from the jump.

the room fell silent again, only sevika’s coin filling up the room. you were sure that you were going to go insane, another moment of this. she put the coins in a pouch, and set them on the table. “if you wanted something, you could’ve just asked in the first place.”

—

“mm fuck— sev, baby, slow down!” and there she was. fucking you right there on the couch, your knees practically digging into your chest as she gave you everything. “slow down? i thought this was what you wanted?” she raised an eyebrow at you again. you didn’t respond to her—more like you couldn’t. only drunken babbles of praises and her name fell of your mouth, and she smirked. she got her answer.

the ridges of her cock kissed and scratched the deepest parts of your pussy, and so effortlessly too. strong hands holding your knees up to your chest (that were definitely going to leave a mark later) tightly as she took long, deep and fast strokes, barely even giving you time to breathe a little.

she thought you were always so cute under like this. the way your eyebrows furrowed together, the way you gritted your teeth together, the way your head tilted back some as your knuckles turned almost white gripping onto nothing. “ah w—wait, fuck! wait..” you whined, begged. but it only spurred her on more, going so deep a little bulge peaked out with each thrust, earning a squeal out of you.

“yeah? you like that? this what you’ve been waiting for?” she bends down to you, her lips brushing against your skin. you could feel her smirking against your cheek. you whined and nodded your head, but that only earned you having her pull out a little, having you writhing at the loss. “your words.” she says firmly, her voice low and even. “mmmyess, yes, baby! love it so much, please—“ you let out before sevika slammed into you once more, knocking the air out of your lungs. “good girl.”

the lewd wet skin slapping that filled the room, your juices dirtying the couch and her thighs. god that was going to be a pain to clean up afterwards.

but you didn’t worry about that right now. you couldn’t. not when your beautiful husband was giving you the best dick of your life after a whole week of waiting. and of course, her beautiful wife took it like a champ.

you reached your hands up to put it behind her back, long nails subconsciously scratching her back hard to the point where she had instant deep red marks, earning a growl from her. her human hand slid down to your drenched pussy and started to rub delicate but rough circles on your neglected clit, the exact way she knew would drive you crazy. “sevvy, gonna—“ you sobbed, but she didn’t relent her pace at all. “gonna cum? c’mon. cum for me.”

with blurry eyes from your tears, you picked your head up a bit. sevika immediately noticed what you wanted and dove in for a searing kiss as you came. your thighs shook around her, sevika fucking you through your orgasm as your juices sloshed everywhere. she swallowed up your moans, your tippling praises, your cries, responding with low moans and groans of her own.

but, unfortunately for you (moreso your pussy), sevika has all the stamina in the world for you. she’s gonna the entire night fucking allll of the frustrations out of her cute wife. that’s what a good husband does, after all. maybe even make a nice meal after.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[rafesweetie]

need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”