#so y/n SAFELY crosses the road in this chapter :)

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XX ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au. — warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy. — word count: 4,801. — tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23, @leathesimp. —the lost queen series masterlist. — ko-fi

Chapter 20

The march was an ordeal for all involved. The scorching summer heat punished soldiers and animals alike, making each step a monumental effort. Armor gleamed in the merciless sun, and the air seemed to ripple with the heat rising from the arid ground. The mood was almost palpable, a shadow that followed the ranks like an unwelcome companion. Yet everyone knew that they would rather face the scorching sun than face the icy winter winds that chilled them to the bone.

The destination was Babylon, a journey that would take months, according to the strategists' calculations. The army, vast in number and presence, advanced slowly due to the chariots, tents, and supplies that accompanied it. This slowness irritated Alexander deeply. He was completely focused on his goal: to rescue his wife, no matter the cost.

He was Alexander, and he would raze cities, enslave people, and send men to the sword until he recovered his wife, his Queen.

His wife and child were waiting for him. Alexander missed (Y/N) terribly. The moments they spent together, few but significant, did not make up for the emptiness in his chest due to his wife's absence. Nothing could fill the void that was eating away at him except having her in his arms once more, and this time he would be sure that no one could take her away from him again.

Impatience was eating away at him. He ardently wished to have wings like Icarus, to take flight and cross the sky to the gates of Babylon. Each day that passed seemed like an insult to his desire for action, an affront to his restless spirit.

It was then that he made a strategic decision. To speed up the advance, he decided to divide the army in two. He would lead the vanguard, accompanied by his main officers and the elite of his soldiers. The rearguard would be under the command of Parmenion, an experienced and trustworthy general. It would still take time to reach the city, but the movement would be faster with fewer men and baggage at the front.

Alexander would naturally lead the first group. His eagerness to advance as quickly as possible was almost tangible. Part of him wanted to mount Bucephalus and gallop non-stop to Babylon, ignoring all the risks of the road. However, reason prevailed over impulse. He knew that abandoning his army would be foolish. The path was treacherous, full of possible ambushes and challenges that would require his command and leadership. And he could not simply leave his own people behind.

As the sun set, dyeing the horizon red and gold, Alexander rode at the head of his troops, his gaze fixed on the east. Babylon was far away, but in his mind, he could already visualize the city gates, the imposing walls and the reunion that fueled his spirit. Determined and tireless, he advanced, guided by passion and the promise of victory.

Soon, he promised himself, (Y/N) would be back in his arms and he would never let her leave his side again.

"Alexander, please. The soldiers and animals need to rest." Hephaestion insisted, his voice thick with concern. He watched his friend closely as the men set up their makeshift camp for the night. The sky was already painted with shades of purple and gold, announcing the end of the day, but Alexander remained restless, almost oblivious to the exhaustion of everyone around him.

If it were up to him alone, Alexander would have continued the march without hesitation, ignoring the approaching darkness and the limits of the human body. But he knew that leadership was not just about giving orders; it was also about understanding the needs of his men. As much as he wanted to force them forward until their feet were raw, he needed to be wise.

"Fine," Alexander replied with a heavy sigh, finally giving in. He removed his sword from his belt and placed it at his side, as if the act symbolized a brief surrender. His eyes, intense and determined, fixed on Hephaestion. "But tell them that tomorrow, at first light, we will march again!"

Hephaestion sighed deeply, a mixture of relief and frustration. He knew Alexander better than anyone, and knew that this was as much of a concession as he could get. "I will," He replied with a slight nod, before walking away to relay his orders.

The camp soon came to life, filled with the sound of the soldiers' tired voices. Some drank wine around the campfires, their hoarse laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames. Others ate in silence or tended to their wounds, enjoying the brief respite of a night without marching.

Inside his tent, Alexander secluded himself. Sitting on a simple rug, he opened his copy of the Iliad. The epic poem was more than just reading material for him; it was a refuge, an anchor in the midst of the storm that raged within his mind. His eyes scanned the words greedily, absorbing the stories of heroes and battles that he so admired.

Alexander could not help but make the inevitable comparison. Once again, he saw himself as Achilles, the hero he so admired and whose legacy he aspired to equal — or even surpass. Hephaestion, ever loyal and ever present, was to him what Patroclus had been to the legendary warrior, a friend, a soul brother, someone he trusted more than himself.

But there was a third figure in this epic narrative that shaped his life. (Y/N), his wife, was his Briseis. Just as Agamemnon had torn Briseis from Achilles, breaking the hero's trust and inciting his fury, (Y/N) had been taken from Alexander. Not by a superior commander, but by Perdiccas — someone he had dared to call a friend.

Perdiccas' betrayal was an open wound in Alexander's heart. A man he had trusted had now allied himself with the Persians, keeping his wife captive. The memory of (Y/N)'s face, her beauty, her grace, her laughter, fueled his determination. He refused to accept that she would remain out of his arms, held captive like a trophy of war.

Thoughts boiled in his mind as he clenched his fists. He knew that, like Achilles, his anger and pain would drive him. But unlike the Greek hero, Alexander would not let anger cloud his mission. He would use his intelligence, his skill as a strategist, and his unbreakable willpower to get her back. He has to.

No matter the price he had to pay. No matter how many men or how many miles separated them. He would cross deserts, face armies, and defy even the gods if necessary. Because (Y/N) was not just his wife; she was his heart, the part of him that made him human amidst the divinity of his dreams.

And just as Achilles had gone after Briseis, Alexander would go to Babylon to seek (Y/N). But unlike his favorite hero, he would not let anyone stop him. Perdiccas would pay for his betrayal, the Persians would fall, and he would bring his wife back. No matter the cost. No matter the time. He would get her back.

And everyone who got in his way would be killed.

"Do you really think capturing Babylon right away is a good idea?" Nearchus's voice cut through the crackling of the fire, carrying the drawl of someone who had had a little too much to drink. He swung his wine cup slightly, the dark liquid reflecting the flames.

The other generals looked up, some with impatience, others with amusement. The firelight illuminated their battle-scarred faces, creating shadows that made them look even more worn from the campaign. Alexander was in his tent, lost in thought or reading, as usual, and none of them dared disturb him. As for Hephaestion, they all knew he was busy with his endless duties, and though he had been invited, he had politely declined.

So that left just them. As always.

"Do you want my honest opinion, or would you prefer a more optimistic one?' Ptolemy replied, his mocking smile shining in the firelight. He held his wine with the same casualness of someone going about their day, though the irony was evident in his tone.

Nearchus wrinkled his nose, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he didn't bother to reply. He simply took another sip of his wine, perhaps as a way to distract himself. Cassander, as was typical of him, rolled his eyes dramatically and muttered something unintelligible that seemed to include the words "idiots" and "waste of time."

Cleitus, on the other hand, laughed. The sound was low, almost infectious, and it made the others look at him for a moment. He seemed more relaxed than usual, warmed by the wine and the rare camaraderie they shared in the midst of war.

"You may be a bunch of blockheads," He said, gesturing with his free hand, "but oddly enough, I like being here with you."

There was something genuine in his words, though the alcohol certainly helped. No matter how much they had their differences —and there were many — there was an unbreakable bond between them. They could tease each other, argue, and even fight, but when it came time to fight, they trusted each other as friends, as brothers, perhaps.

"Don't get all emotional now, Cleitus." Cassander's mocking voice echoed through the circle of generals, thick with irony as he arched an eyebrow. His green eyes glinted mischievously in the flickering light of the fire, ready to provoke.

"And don’t get all bitter, Cassander," Cleitus snapped back without missing a beat, his tone sharp but with a hint of humor. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing the final blow. "Tell me, is your bed really that empty?"

Cassander's face hardened, his mouth already opening to spew a sharp retort, but before he could fire off his retort, Ptolemy held up a hand, interrupting him with a tone of restrained exasperation.

"Now, no more arguing, huh?" He grumbled as he tilted the jar to refill his cup, the red liquid glistening in the light of the flames. "We're having a decent time, and we don't need two bickering children to ruin it."

Cleitus chuckled softly, shaking his head as he finished his wine in one gulp, not caring when a few drops escaped and stained his dark beard. He looked pleased with himself, relaxing back into his makeshift chair.

Cassander, on the other hand, looked indignant. He shot Ptolemy a sharp look, clearly annoyed at being compared to a child, but decided not to prolong the argument. With an expression that was a mix of irritation and disdain, he just snorted, muttering something unintelligible before picking up his own wine cup.

Nearchus, already visibly drunker, resumed the conversation, his voice carrying a note of sincere concern, albeit slurred. "But seriously, I don't think it’s a good idea to attack Babylon so immediately. The Persians have probably already received the news. They must be preparing, and honestly, another siege is not at all pleasant. We will lose more men than necessary."

The words hung in the air, and Ptolemy sighed, placing his wine cup on the floor, his gaze distant and thoughtful. "Yes, you are right. But what can we do? Alexander is determined. And.... She is our Queen."

The mention of (Y/N) brought a brief silence between the men. The light of the fire seemed to shine a little brighter in each of their eyes as they thought of her. Although the time they spent with her was limited, (Y/N) had earned a special place among the Macedonians.

She was not just Alexander's wife; she was a singular presence, able to touch even the most hardened hearts from years of war. Everyone remembered how she had saved Cleitus from certain death in a previous incident, defying orders to ensure he received medical care, how she had saved him with her own hands. Her kind heart and dedication to every soldier, regardless of rank, were rare qualities.

"She's different," Cleitus murmured, breaking the silence. He stared into the wine in his cup, as if the words had come out of themselves. "She didn’t have to, but she cares. About all of us."

The others nodded silently, even Cassander, who usually maintained a cynical air, seemed lost in thought.

Besides all that, (Y/N) was a good influence on Alexander. Where he was fire, she was the water that balanced him. She brought humanity to the king, reminding him that leadership was not just about conquest, but also about care and responsibility.

That was why they marched. It wasn't just for Alexander, or his glory, or the empire he sought to build. It was also for her, their Queen, someone who didn't deserve to be held captive. They would bring her back, not just out of duty, but because she had become part of the soul of the army.

Cleitus rose from his seat with a determined movement, his eyes shining in the firelight. With the firm stance of a warrior and the conviction of a man who knew what he was fighting for — or in this case, who he was fighting for — he raised his cup of wine.

"For our Queen!" His voice rang out loudly, full of respect and devotion.

For a moment, silence fell, but then, one by one, the other generals followed suit. Cups were raised to the starry sky, almost as an offering to the gods, the glow of the fire reflecting off the red liquids that danced within them.

"For our Queen!" They repeated in unison, their voices mingling, full of fervor and loyalty.

The wine was drank, but the true toast had been made long before that moment. It was in their hearts, in their determination. They would march for Alexander, for the empire, for glory — but above all, they would march for her.

And they would not rest until their Queen was free. And until everyone involved in her kidnapping was dead.

A few days before the march,

Roxanna moved restlessly around her room, unable to contain the anxiety that was eating away at her chest. She felt her servant's fingers sliding through her long black hair, gently combing it, but not even the repetitive gesture could calm her. Her thoughts were far away, swirling around a single name.

"Leave me alone." Her voice was firm, but without emotion. She did not deign to look at her servant, who obeyed immediately, leaving her with her whirlwind of thoughts.

Her father's visit a few hours earlier had only served to heighten her uneasiness.

"Seduce him, Roxanna. Make him marry you. For our people."

His words repeated in her mind like a crushing burden. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was an order. A mission.

She sighed, her eyes lost in the reflection of the bronze mirror before her. Yes, Alexander was a handsome man. An unbeatable warrior, a powerful king. He could offer protection to her people, he could give her a position no other woman in Bactria had ever held. But she wasn't sure if it was the right choice. Not while another woman stood in his way.

Alexander's wife.

Her disappearance should have been a boon to Roxanna, but instead it seemed to only strengthen the bond between them. She knew it was common for a king to have multiple wives, mistresses even. But this.... This was different. Alexander had taken no mistresses — at least not that she knew of — and he was desperate to find her.

In any other circumstance, Roxanna might have found it romantic. A king's devotion, his unbreakable loyalty to one woman. But not now. Not when she wanted to be the only one.

She clasped her hands tightly, her heart pounding.

If she had Alexander's son, he would have to be the heir. The only legitimate heir.

But for that to happen, (Y/N) needed to disappear for good. She might be Darius' captive, but she was still alive. And that was a problem.

Roxanna sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands wrapped around her head as she tried to organize her thoughts. Her fate depended on her next decision, but the path ahead seemed foggy.

Before she could delve any deeper into her worries, her doubts, a loud sound echoed through the room — a firm knock on the door. She jumped, her heart racing in alert. She wasn't expecting anyone.

She frowned, straightening her posture and composing herself before answering.

"Come in." Her voice was firm, though it carried a hint of hesitation.

The door opened slowly, revealing an unfamiliar figure. Roxanna held her breath.

The man who entered was unusually handsome, exuding an aura of mystery and sophistication. His dark, deep-set, attentive eyes seemed to carry the weight of worldly knowledge. He smiled kindly, but something in his posture revealed that this was no ordinary visitor.

His dark hair fell softly over his forehead, and his rich, ornate robes were clearly Persian.

Roxanna felt her body stiffen. Who was he?

"Who... Who are you?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept her gaze fixed on him.

The man inclined his head slightly in a respectful gesture, a smile still playing on his lips.

"Aslan, at your service, my lady."

The name sounded strange to her ears. It wasn't Greek. Nor Persian. At least, not from a place she knew.

And that made her even more suspicious.

Roxanna felt a shiver run down her spine as Aslan took a step forward, his smile remaining enigmatic.

"Why are you here?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though a hint of nervousness betrayed her composure. "It's not proper for a woman to be alone with a man, I—"

Before she could finish, he interrupted her.

"Don't worry, little star. I'll be quick."

The nickname took her by surprise, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Aslan was already moving closer. His movement was fluid, confident, as if he was in control of everything around him. Roxanna took a step back instinctively, her muscles tensing in alert.

He laughed softly, a low, melodious sound, without a trace of threat.

"You don't need to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." His voice was soft, reassuring. His dark eyes, which had seemed enigmatic and unfathomable before, softened.

Roxanna blinked, feeling her own heart slow down. The irrational fear that had gripped her seconds before began to dissipate, replaced by a strange calm.

She didn’t know why, but somehow... She believed him.

"I heard that you might become the second wife of our dear King Alexander." He began, his gaze roaming the room as if he were analyzing every detail.

Roxanna didn't bother to hide her displeasure at the title “second wife.” Her lips tightened, but she remained silent, just staring at the stranger.

Aslan smiled, as if he had already expected this reaction.

"And something tells me you're not happy with this arrangement." He continued, looking directly at her again. "Of course, nothing has been declared yet, and I doubt Alexander will marry you while sweet (Y/N) is still under the Persians. But the possibility exists. After all, it would be a beneficial alliance, especially since Darius' daughter, Stateira, is not yet of marriageable age. You would be the most obvious choice."

Roxanna felt a chill run down her spine as Aslan spoke, his words laced with a seductive yet dangerously calculated tone. She arched a dark brow, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and caution. Where was this conversation going?

Then Aslan tilted his head slightly, his gaze gleaming with something between amusement and intent.

"You see, little star," He murmured, his voice a soft, almost hypnotic purr. "I am a man of many talents. And I can make your problem disappear."

His smile widened, and Roxanna felt her stomach turn.

She knew exactly what problem he was talking about.

The silence that followed felt heavy, as if fate itself awaited Roxanna's decision.

A part of her, the rational one, screamed that this was a terrible idea. Nothing came for free, and Aslan was clearly no mere benefactor. But another part — the ambitious, desirous, dreamy part — was filled with excitement.

The idea of ​​being the only queen, the mother of the future heir, the woman at the great Alexander's side...

The thought warmed her chest like fire.

Aslan noticed her hesitation and kept his smile patient, as if he already knew what the answer would be.

"All you have to do is ask me, and I will rid you of your problem." He said it casually, as if he were offering something trivial.

A shiver ran down Roxanna's spine. She swallowed hard. She wasn't naive. She knew that nothing was done without a price.

"And what do you want in return?" Her voice was firm, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

Aslan smiled broadly, his dark gaze glittering.

"Don't worry about that now," He purred. "But I promise it won't be anything too far from your reach."

Roxanna felt her body tense. Every fiber of her being told her this was dangerous. But the promise of what could be... The chance to have everything she wanted...

The excitement, the desire, the dream took over her young mind.

And before she could think twice, the words escaped her lips.

"Do it."

She had just sealed a pact — and she didn't even know the price.

Present day,

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding in your chest as Aslan's words echoed in yoor mind.

Back to your own time?

Was that really what he was saying? Was it possible?

You had never really considered this possibility. You had always assumed that, because you were pregnant, you would be trapped in this place, that the babies inside you were an anchor preventing any return. But now... He spoke as if it were simple, as if everything could be reversed with a snap of his fingers. And maybe it could.

"Are you serious?" Your voice came out shaky, little more than a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Aslan smiled, that feline smile that never fully revealed its intentions, and nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Your heart raced even faster. The chance — if it was even a chance — to go home. To your family. To your time. It was a dream that seemed increasingly distant as you adapted to this strange Era, this reality you never chose but that had somehow become yours.

But why now?

Why was he offering you this choice now, after everything you had been through? After so long? After he himself had sent you here without even asking if that was what you wanted?

Your eyes narrowed, and your voice was firm, thick with suspicion.

"Why?"

Aslan shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter, his smile widening even more.

"Because I think it's time for you to come home, (Y/N)." His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was something about it that sent a cold shiver down your spine. "You've spent too much time here. Your time is up."

Instead of feeling relief, joy, or hope, something else burned inside you.

Fury.

It took over your body before you could stop it, hot and uncontrollable, and before you could even think about the consequences, your hand came up and slapped Aslan across the face with a loud crack.

The impact stung your palm, but you didn't care. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your breathing ragged.

Aslan stood still for a moment, his head turned slightly to the side. Then, slowly, he turned back to face you.

And smiled.

A dangerous smile.

Aslan raised one of his hands and lightly touched his own cheek, where the red mark from your slap was beginning to appear. His dark eyes shone in an almost amused way, as if he found your reaction amusing.

"Well, that was an unexpected welcome." He murmured, his carefree tone contrasting with the intensity of his gaze.

You still felt your hand tingling, but you didn't regret what you had done. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, anger still boiling inside you.

"You have the nerve to show up here and simply tell me that my ‘time is up’ after bringing me here against my will?" Your voice shook, but not from fear — from indignation. "After making me live through all of this? Making me get attached to people, getting married? Making me get pregnant?! You have no right to do that!"

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, watching you as if studying your reaction. Then, he sighed.

"You've always been so full of spirit, haven't you?" He shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "That's why I like you."

Your stomach churned in disgust.

"I don't give a fuck what you like." You spat the words out, your fists clenched at your sides. "I want to know what's really going on."

Aslan finally abandoned his relaxed posture and took a step closer. You forced yourself not to back away.

"Listen carefully, (Y/N), because I don’t like repeating things." His voice was lower now, more serious, and suddenly, the entire air in the room seemed heavy. "You came to this time for a purpose. Something that needed to be done. But now that purpose has been fulfilled."

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest.

"F-Fulfilled?" You repeated, the word sounding strange in your mouth.

Aslan smiled slowly.

"Yes. What had to happen, happened. You are no longer needed here."

The words hit you like a punch in the stomach.

You were no longer needed? As if your life was a simple object that he could discard as soon as he was done using it? As if everything you had lived here had meant nothing?

You felt an immense urge to punch him.

You gritted your teeth, blood roaring in your ears.

"What if I don’t want to go?" Your voice was low, but full of defiance.

Aslan smiled again, but this time, there was something dark in his expression.

"Oh, my sweet (Y/N)..." He whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Who said you had a choice?"

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet, as if the world around you was disintegrating. With each breath, the air became heavier, harder to hold. You tried to stay upright, but the feeling of disorientation grew, your body starting to shake. Your eyes met Aslan's again, and this time, there was something different in his gaze — no longer just the calculated distance or the amusement of a manipulator. There was a touch of longing, as if he were looking at you with a sadness you didn't understand, something deep that was beyond your reach.

The chaos inside your mind intensified, thoughts tumbling over each other, conflicting feelings taking over your heart. How could he look at you like that, with a mixture of affection and... Farewell? Why all this? He was doing this to you, dragging you to a place where you no longer knew who you were, and now, he seemed to be saying goodbye for now. But why?

Before you could ask any other questions, a feeling of weakness took over your body, as if all of your energy had been drained. Your eyes began to close, your vision becoming blurry and hazy, while the weight of your own body seemed to become unbearable. Aslan’s words echoed in your mind like a distant whisper, even though he was there, standing in front of you, with the enigmatic expression as always.

"Don’t worry, (Y/N). We'll see each other again." He said, his words so soft that they seemed like a low, comforting chant. But what was comforting about all this? How could he say something like that with such certainty? "But don't worry, you won't be alone when you wake up."

Those words... You wanted to believe them, you wanted to feel that there was some truth to his promise, but the feeling of abandonment, of helplessness, was overwhelming you. Your vision grew increasingly blurred, as if the darkness itself was approaching, taking over your entire being. The last vestige of clarity in your mind disappeared, swallowed by a deep, cold abyss, and soon silence took over everything.

The last thing you felt was a strange sense of calm, as if, somehow, the darkness was a kind of refuge. And then, everything went black.

— lady l: I know it took a while to come out but my life has been a mess lately :( It hasn't been an easy start to the year but I'm here. We're entering a new phase of TLQ! Also, don't hate Roxanna! She's young (technically 16 if we are going really historical) and she doesn't know on what she's getting into. She'll come around, guys. 😉

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was longer than usual, but important. Forgive me for any mistakes and I'll see you soon! I love receiving feedback and comments! ❤️❤️

If you want to support or ask for something, my Ko-Fi/commissions are always open!

Bye for now!! ❤️

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ my girl, my man

chapter summary: You and Logan plan for your wedding.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i could've dragged out them getting engaged (i couldn't help myself) and i could've dragged out them finally getting married (i just couldn't help it😭).

also, i meant to post this a few hours ago, but i had a dentist appointment and the roads here in texas are awful. so, if you live in california, stay safe! and if you are in texas, stay warm! xoxo

(you can imagine whatever ring you'd like, but i got bored one day and searched around for a vintage ring so here's what it looks like)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, summer break, wedding, honeymoon

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

“Do you think we’re missin’ something?” Jean wondered aloud.

Scott didn’t look up from his book, “about what?”

“About Y/N and—”

“Oh, yes. I thought I was the only one,” Ororo said, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement as she looked up from her book. She exchanged a knowing glance with Jean, who sat cross-legged on the couch across the room.

“Wait,” Jean said, closing the folder she’d been reviewing. “You’ve noticed it too?”

“Of course,” Ororo replied, leaning back in her chair with a small smirk. “It’s hard not to, the way Logan’s been acting.”

Scott finally looked up from his own book, his brow furrowed. “What are you two going on about?”

Jean rolled her eyes affectionately, setting the folder aside. “Come on, Scott. You must’ve noticed how Logan is with Y/N.”

“Not really,” Scott said with a shrug, earning an incredulous laugh from Jean.

“Men,” Ororo muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “He’s softer around her, more patient. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her? It’s... different.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not just that. It’s different than before. When me and Scott went to the store yesterday Logan asked for mango juice and yogurt-covered pretzels. Now who’s the only person we know who even likes those things?”

Ororo’s smirk grew. “Y/N.”

“Exactly,” Jean said, leaning forward. “I’m telling you, something’s shifted. They’ve always been close, but now? It’s like… there’s an extra layer to it.”

Ororo set her book aside, her tone teasing. “I’ve noticed other things too. She asked me for a bunch of yeast and some other ingredients last week—odd things for the lab. Then, two days later, she came by looking flustered, mumbling something about brewing beer. My guess? She’s making it for him.”

Jean grinned. “That sounds like her. She’s so shy about doing anything big, but she puts so much thought into the little things.”

Scott, still sitting with his arms crossed, frowned. “So, what? They’re dating. We all know that.”

“Yes, but this is different,” Jean insisted. “Logan’s been... softer, more relaxed. And Y/N? She’s been letting herself open up more. They’ve always had a connection, but this feels… more serious.”

Ororo nodded. “And the PDA. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not exactly hanging off each other in public, but it’s there. A little more than usual.”

Scott still didn’t look convinced. “I think you’re reading too much into this. Logan’s always been protective of her, and she’s been trying to come out of her shell. That doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

Jean sighed, exchanging a look with Ororo. “You can be so dense sometimes, Scott.”

“Hey, I’m just saying! Logan’s Logan. He doesn’t strike me as the type to do anything halfway, but I’m not seeing what you two are apparently seeing.”

Ororo shrugged. “Give it time. You’ll notice eventually.”

---

Scott was heading down the main hall when he caught sight of Logan walking toward him. Logan had his usual brisk stride, but the large stack of magazines in his arms gave Scott pause.

“Logan,” Scott called, stepping into his path. “What’s with the reading material?”

Logan slowed to a stop, glancing down at the stack in his arms. Bridal magazines, at least half a dozen of them, with glossy covers featuring elaborate white dresses and floral arrangements.

He barely missed a beat. “For the fire,” Logan said gruffly, his tone so deadpan it took Scott a moment to respond.

“For the fire?” Scott echoed, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. Fireplace needs kindling,” Logan replied, his expression unreadable as he shifted the magazines under one arm.

Before Scott could press further, Jean approached, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the magazines. “Logan, is that…?”

“Magazines,” Logan cut in, his voice low. “For the fire. Don’t read into it.”

Jean’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smile. “Uh-huh.”

Logan let out a low grunt, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation, and walked off without another word, leaving Jean and Scott standing in the hall.

Jean turned to Scott, her eyebrows raised. “Still think we’re imagining things?”

Scott glanced back at Logan’s retreating figure, the bridal magazines tucked under his arm. “…Okay, maybe something is going on.”

Jean smirked. “Told you.”

---

You rolled out from under the Blackbird with wire cutters laying on your stomach and an electric screwdriver in your hand. “Alright, fixed it. Still don’t know why you couldn’t ask Scott.”

Jean rolled her eyes, “I did. And he said ‘later’. It’s been 4 days.”

You gave her a small smile. “Figures.”

Sliding the wire cutters onto the small tool tray beside you, you sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. Jean crouched down next to you, handing over a clean rag.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it to wipe the faint smudge of grease off your arms.

“Not bad for a physics professor,” Jean teased, her tone warm.

You shrugged, pulling off the gloves with a small tug. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”

Ororo, perched nearby with her arms crossed and a bemused expression, added, “If you weren’t so dedicated to teaching, I’d say you might have a future in mechanics.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I’ll leave the big repairs to Hank. I just know enough to get by.”

As you spoke, you folded the gloves neatly and set them on the tray. That’s when Jean’s eyes caught something—a glint of light on your left hand.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she tilted her head. “Y/N… is that—?”

You glanced at her, confused for a moment, before realizing what had caught her attention. Your engagement ring, a delicate band with an antique setting, was visible now that the gloves were off.

“Oh,” you said softly, instinctively touching the ring with your thumb. A shy smile tugged at your lips.

Jean’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across her face. “Wait a second. When did this happen?”

Ororo stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s she talking about?”

Jean pointed at your hand. “Look at her ring finger.”

Ororo’s gaze followed, and her eyebrows lifted. “Well, well, well. I didn’t realize we had a bride-to-be among us.”

Your cheeks warmed under their scrutiny. “It’s… recent,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jean’s grin grew as she leaned in, her tone playful. “And by ‘recent,’ you mean…?”

“Two… maybe three weeks,” you said, trying not to squirm under her gaze.

Ororo let out a low whistle. “And you didn’t tell us?”

You looked between the two of them, your fingers fiddling with the ring. “We weren’t keeping it a secret. It just… hasn’t come up.”

Jean crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “Hasn’t come up? You’ve been engaged for weeks, and none of us noticed?”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of nervousness and amusement. “Well… Logan and I aren’t exactly the ‘big announcement’ type.”

Ororo chuckled. “That, I believe. But still, congratulations are in order. It’s beautiful, Y/N.”

Jean nodded, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “It really is. And it suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at the ring again. Despite the attention, there was a quiet happiness bubbling inside you.

Jean gave you a knowing look. “So… when were you planning on telling the rest of us? Or were we just supposed to figure it out on our own?”

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And Logan—well, you know how he is.”

Jean laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine his reaction to a big group toast.” She put on a gruff voice, imitating him. “‘No need to make a fuss.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly.”

Ororo smiled warmly, her teasing tone softening. “Well, fuss or no fuss, we’re happy for you. And you better let us know if there’s a wedding date.”

“Of course,” you promised, the warmth in their voices making you feel more at ease.

Jean reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Congratulations, Y/N. You two deserve this.”

“Thanks,” you said again, this time with more confidence.

Before the conversation could go any further, Logan’s voice carried down the hall. “Darlin’? You done with the jet?”

You turned toward the sound, seeing him leaning casually in the doorway. His usual gruff expression softened as his eyes met yours.

“Yeah, all set,” you called back, standing and brushing off your jeans.

Logan gave a small nod but didn’t move, his gaze lingering on you in that way that made your heart flutter.

Jean smirked, glancing at Ororo. “And there he is.”

“Don’t,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your cheeks flush again.

Ororo laughed softly, but neither she nor Jean said anything more. As you walked toward Logan, you caught the amused glances they exchanged, but you didn’t mind.

Logan met you halfway, his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you joined him. “Ready to head in?”

“Yeah,” you said, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

As the two of you walked away, you could still hear Jean and Ororo chuckling behind you, but Logan didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just better left between the two of you.

---

“Please?” you said, drawing the word out with an exaggerated pout as you held up the scissors, comb, and spray bottle. Your tone was teasing, but your eyes carried a hopeful glint.

Logan crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. “Darlin’, I’m tellin’ ya, it’s fine. It doesn’t need fixin’.”

You arched a brow, stepping closer. “Logan, it’s summer, and your hair’s gettin’ way too long in the back. I’m not saying you need a whole new look, just a trim.”

He gave a low grunt, clearly unconvinced, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been dealin’ with this hair longer than you’ve been alive. It’s manageable.”

“Sure it is,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “But wouldn’t it be more manageable if it wasn’t sticking out at weird angles?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said sweetly.

He stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But on one condition.”

Your eyes lit up. “Name it.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “We do it outside, and you sit on my lap while you’re at it.”

Your cheeks immediately warmed, and you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Logan,” you began, your voice dropping in embarrassment.

“What?” he said with a smirk. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? Gotta make it worth my while.”

You huffed, but your lips quirked up in a small smile despite your best efforts. “Fine,” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “But don’t blame me if you end up with a lopsided cut.”

Logan chuckled, his hand settling on your lower back as he guided you toward the back patio. The warm summer air greeted you as the two of you stepped outside. The mansion’s sprawling yard stretched out around you, the sun casting a golden glow over the lawn and the distant trees.

Logan grabbed one of the sturdy wooden chairs from the patio table and plopped down, spreading his legs slightly as he leaned back with a lazy grin. He patted his thigh. “Hop on.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. Though Logan wasn’t shy about showing affection, you were still getting used to moments like this. When the coast was clear, you let out a breath and moved to sit sideways on his lap. He shook his head, catching your waist and turning you so you straddled him instead.

“There,” he said, his voice low and pleased. “Much better.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you picked up the spray bottle and gave his hair a quick spritz. He leaned back, his hands resting casually on your hips while you combed through his damp locks.

“You know,” you said, keeping your tone light as you snipped at the ends, “this is kind of nice. Just us, the fresh air…”

Logan’s lips quirked. “Don’t get too used to it, darlin’. This is a one-time deal.”

“Sure it is,” you teased, snipping another section. “I’ll remind you of that next time your hair gets out of control.”

He gave a low chuckle, and you felt his thumb brush lightly against your side. It was such a small, unconscious gesture, but it sent a warm flutter through your chest. You leaned in a little closer, focusing on your task.

“Y/N!” Jean’s voice rang out from somewhere near the house, and your head whipped up in alarm. “Have you seen—oh.”

Jean rounded the corner, her steps slowing as she took in the sight of you perched on Logan’s lap, scissors in hand. Her lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. “Am I interrupting something?”

You felt your cheeks flame, and you tried to slide off Logan’s lap, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. “Jean,” you said, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “I was just… cutting Logan’s hair.”

“Right,” Jean said, crossing her arms and giving you a knowing look. “Because clearly, that’s the only thing happening here.”

Logan, unbothered, smirked up at her. “You need somethin’, Red?”

Jean waved a hand dismissively. “Nope, nothing that can’t wait. Carry on.” She turned to leave but not before shooting you a wink over her shoulder. “Nice technique, Y/N.”

“Jean!” you called after her, but she was already walking away, laughing softly to herself.

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. Logan’s chest rumbled with laughter beneath you.

“Relax, darlin’. Let her have her fun.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a grin, his hands squeezing your waist gently. “But hey, you wanted to do this, remember?”

You sighed, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips as you went back to trimming. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said, his voice warm and full of affection.

---

Logan reached his hand out haphazardly to close the bedroom door, the motion almost careless in his urgency. His other hand remained firmly planted on your lower back, guiding you with surprising gentleness as your lips stayed locked.

The click of the door shutting barely registered before he backed you into the wall, his movements smooth and deliberate. You gasped softly against his mouth, one of your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair while the other found its way to the back of his neck.

“Logan,” you murmured breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“What?” His voice was low, a rough edge of amusement to it as his lips sought yours again. “You’re the one who started this, sweetheart.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and almost involuntary. “I did not—”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” he teased, his hands settling more firmly on your hips. He nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you, his grin mischievous. “You looked at me like that, darlin’. Don’t blame me for followin’ through.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, but you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped you as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, softer, but still filled with the same electric energy that seemed to hum between the two of you whenever you were close.

You tightened your arms around his shoulders, fingers pressing lightly into his skin. He grunted softly, the sound half amusement, half approval, before his hands slid down to the backs of your thighs.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his voice husky as he gripped you firmly and lifted you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he pinned you against the wall more securely, his body pressed warm and solid against yours.

“Logan!” you squeaked, a mix of laughter and surprise in your tone. “You’re gonna drop me.”

He smirked, his lips brushing along your jaw before he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “When are you gonna figure that out, huh?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, the lights in the room flickered and then went out completely, plunging everything into sudden darkness.

You gasped softly, instinctively tightening your hold on Logan. “What just—?”

“Power’s out,” he muttered, his tone shifting to mild annoyance. He pulled back just enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. “Perfect timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the absurdity of the situation cutting through the moment’s intensity. “Guess the mansion’s old wiring isn’t built for summer storms.”

“Guess not,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, smiling despite yourself. “But we might want to move before someone walks in on this.”

He chuckled, his hands still steady beneath you as he adjusted his grip. “I don’t care who walks in. Let ‘em.”

“Logan,” you groaned, but you couldn’t hide the grin in your voice. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you down.”

He set you on your feet gently, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment longer before stepping back. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Maybe we finish this later,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress another smile. “Maybe.”

As you both moved to find a flashlight, the sound of voices and footsteps echoed faintly down the hall. The chaos of the power outage was clearly drawing everyone out of their rooms, and you shot Logan a knowing look.

“See?” you whispered, smirking. “Someone was bound to walk in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t too worried about it.

---

You might’ve gotten a bit carried away looking at magazines instead of working on your research. The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of equipment, and you’d tucked yourself into a corner with a stack of physics journals. But one wedding magazine Logan had given you sat on top of your pile, its glossy pages begging to be flipped through. Before you knew it, you were lost in images of lace trains and intricate veils, your fingers idly twisting a strand of hair.

“Hmm, wedding dresses?”

Jean’s teasing voice pulled you from your daydream. You jumped, snapping the magazine shut and turning red. “Jean! I—uh, it’s not what it looks like. I was just…taking a break.”

Jean smirked, plucking the magazine from your hands. She flipped it open to a page you’d dog-eared. “Sure, just a break,” she said, her tone laced with playful skepticism. “You’ve already got a few favorites marked. This one’s beautiful,” she added, pointing to a gown with delicate floral embroidery.

You pushed your glasses up nervously. “I mean, yeah, but it’s too soon, right? Logan and I haven’t even set a date yet…”

Jean ignored your protests, holding up the magazine like it was her life’s mission. “Nonsense. Come on, let’s go into town and try some on.”

Your eyes widened. “Try them on? Jean, no—I couldn’t! What if someone sees? What if—”

“Relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s summer break, most of the students are gone, and you deserve a little fun. Besides,” her lips quirked in a knowing smile, “Logan gave you this magazine for a reason. You think he’d mind?”

You hesitated, torn between your shy instincts and Jean’s infectious enthusiasm. Finally, you relented. “Fine. But just for fun.”

---

The bridal boutique was a cozy, sunlit space tucked away on a quiet street. Jean wasted no time pulling dresses from the racks while you lingered nervously near the dressing rooms.

“This one,” Jean said, holding up a sleek satin gown, “or this one?” She gestured to a gown with layers of delicate tulle.

“They’re both gorgeous,” you said, shifting on your feet, “but maybe too much for me…”

Jean rolled her eyes. “You’re the bride! There’s no such thing as ‘too much.’ Now, go try these on.”

The first dress was beautiful but too heavy, and the second didn’t quite feel like you. By the third, you found yourself laughing at Jean’s exaggerated commentary.

“Okay, but look at this!” she said, adjusting the train. “You could glide down the aisle like a queen.”

“Jean,” you giggled, shaking your head, “I think I’d trip over this and take Logan down with me.”

After an hour, you still hadn’t found ‘the one,’ but the experience left you feeling lighter. “Thank you,” you said as the two of you walked back to the car. “That was actually…fun.”

Jean grinned. “Told you. And now we know what styles you like. We’ll find it when the time’s right.”

---

Back at the mansion, Logan was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer, when you walked in. He raised an eyebrow at your slightly disheveled appearance. “Where’d you two run off to?”

Jean, smirking, answered before you could. “Tried on wedding dresses.” Logan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, and his lips twitched into a small smile. Jean patted your arm. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, disappearing down the hall.

You shifted nervously, tugging at your sleeves. “It was her idea,” you blurted out, feeling the need to explain. “I wasn’t—well, I mean, we didn’t find anything. And it’s probably too soon anyway, right? We don’t have a date or a venue or—”

“Darlin’.” Logan’s deep voice cut through your rambling. He stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your arms. “You don’t have to plan every detail right now.”

You looked up at him, your cheeks warm. “But—”

He shook his head, a rare softness in his expression. “I don’t care what you wear or where it happens. Hell, we could go to a courthouse tomorrow and sign the damn papers for all I care.” His voice dipped, quiet and rough with emotion. “I’m just happy I finally get to marry you.”

His words hit you like a wave, their weight sinking in as you stared at him. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb gently over your skin. “What matters is you, sweetheart. That’s it.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of overwhelming love and relief bubbling up. You leaned into his touch, a small, teary smile breaking through. “Okay,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Because you’re already perfect to me.”

---

This was a mistake.

One big, grand mistake.

Your chest heaved as you bent down with your hands on your knees, sweat dripping down your back. The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the mansion’s gym, but it offered no comfort. You were a mess—hair sticking to your face, glasses fogged up, and your lungs protesting every second of this so-called ‘workout.’

“This,” you panted, glaring at Logan, “was a mistake.”

Logan smirked, unbothered as he stood nearby, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was barely sweating, his usual tank top clinging just enough to show off his ridiculous muscles. “You’re the one who said you wanted to get stronger.”

“I didn’t know you’d try to kill me,” you shot back, collapsing onto a nearby mat. Your legs were jelly, your pride in shambles, and Logan looked way too amused.

He sauntered over, grabbing a towel from the bench. “You’re not dead,” he said casually. “You’re just outta shape.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. “You’ve been alive for 100-something-years or whatever. Cut me some slack.”

“That’s not how it works, darlin’.” His voice was teasing, but there was a hint of warmth beneath it. He crouched next to you, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with sweat making your stomach flutter. “You gotta keep at it.”

You peeked out from under your arm, watching as he leaned closer. Logan reached out with the towel, gently wiping your forehead. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating from more than just exertion.

He didn’t stop there. The towel traveled down to your neck, then lower, dabbing at the sweat gathering at your collarbone. You tried not to squirm, but when he moved to the beginnings of your cleavage with a cheeky smirk, you slapped his hand away.

“Logan!” you hissed, sitting up abruptly, your face now definitely on fire.

“What?” he asked, his expression the picture of innocence. “Just helpin’ out.”

You glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugged, tossing the towel over his shoulder and standing up. “Yeah, but you love me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t argue with that. “I’m never working out with you again,” you grumbled as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Sure you are.” Logan’s hand shot out to steady you, his grip firm but gentle. “You just need the right motivation.”

“And what’s that supposed to be?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ll tell ya if you survive the next session.”

You groaned, pushing past him toward the water cooler. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he called after you, his laughter echoing in the gym. “You love me, remember?”

You muttered something under your breath that made him chuckle even harder, but despite your protests, you couldn’t stop the small smile from forming as you took a long sip of water. Maybe—just maybe—you’d let him drag you back here again. But next time, you were bringing Jean for backup.

---

“How did venue hunting go?” Jean asked, walking into the foyer where you and Logan just entered.

You let out a huff as you took off your jacket, your purse and notebook in Logan’s hands. He responded for you, “none of ‘em fit her standards.”

The jacket was draped over your arm as you snatched the notebook out of Logan’s hands. “They’re not high standards,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “Looked like every venue had a list of what they didn’t have instead of what they did.”

“That’s not true!” You flipped open the notebook, pages filled with scribbles, sticky notes, and circled bullet points. “I just want a place that works for everyone. Is that too much to ask?”

Jean smirked from where she leaned against the foyer wall. “Define ‘works for everyone.’”

You gestured with the notebook, tapping on your list. “It has to be wheelchair accessible for Charles. Child-friendly because the students will want to attend. Not too stuffy, so Logan doesn’t feel out of place—”

“Darlin’, I’m out of place everywhere,” Logan cut in with a smirk.

You ignored him, continuing, “And not too far from the mansion so the team can help in case of emergencies. Oh, and it has to have enough space for dancing, good acoustics, a separate area for food—”

“You’re planning a wedding or a state summit?” Logan teased.

Jean stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “She’s just thorough, Logan. You should’ve seen her face when one venue didn’t have a backup generator.”

“Backup generator? For a wedding?” Logan raised an eyebrow at you.

“Have you met us?” you shot back. “I’m not risking a power outage in the middle of the first dance.”

Jean laughed outright this time, shaking her head. “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you, Logan.”

“I always do,” Logan muttered under his breath, smirking when you swatted his arm.

“Don’t act like you’re suffering,” you said, rolling your eyes as you headed toward the living room. Logan followed, still grinning. Jean waved you off with a knowing smile before disappearing toward the kitchen.

---

A few days later, you sat cross-legged on the couch in the mansion’s common area, surrounded by more open notebooks and wedding magazines. The team buzzed around you as usual, some heading out for training while others settled in for their break. Logan strolled in, a beer in hand, and plopped down beside you.

“Still at it?” he asked, glancing at the scattered mess.

You sighed, closing one of the notebooks with a soft thud. “We’re not getting anywhere. Nothing feels right.”

Logan leaned back, taking a swig of his beer. “Then stop lookin’ so hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You’re not the one trying to make sure everyone’s happy.”

“Darlin’, nobody cares where it happens. They care about you.” His tone softened as he reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hell, we could do it right here, and it’d still be perfect.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Here? At the mansion?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug. “Big lawn, plenty of space, and it’s already home for most of us.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room. “It’s… not the worst idea.”

“‘Not the worst’ is high praise coming from you,” Logan teased, earning him a half-hearted glare.

“I just mean…” You bit your lip, considering it. “Who would even decorate?”

At that moment, Rogue walked by, arms full of laundry. Logan raised his voice without missing a beat. “Hey, Rogue! You feel like decorating for a wedding?”

Rogue paused, glancing between the two of you. “Uh… sure? What kinda wedding?”

Logan smirked, gesturing toward you. “Ours.”

Her face lit up. “Oh my God! Yeah, totally! I’ll get Kitty and Jubilee to help. We’ll make it look amazing.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by how quickly she agreed. “Wait—are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure!” Rogue said, beaming. “This is gonna be fun.”

As she hurried off, Logan leaned closer, his smirk widening. “See? Problem solved.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said, pulling you into his side.

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself imagine it: the mansion’s lawn, your friends and family, and Logan waiting for you at the end of the aisle. For the first time in weeks, the thought of your wedding didn’t feel overwhelming—it felt like home.

---

This was officially your third time going wedding dress shopping, and this time Ororo had tagged along with Jean, who had practically dragged you out of the mansion with a determined look in her eyes. The three of you entered the boutique, greeted by racks of pristine white fabric, sparkling embellishments, and soft lighting that screamed bridal fantasy.

You adjusted your glasses nervously, clutching your notebook against your chest as Jean grinned at you. “This is it,” she said confidently. “Third time’s the charm.”

Ororo gave you a calm, reassuring smile. “No pressure, Y/N. Let’s just have fun with it.”

You exhaled a little laugh. “Easier said than done. Every dress I’ve tried on feels…wrong.”

Jean looped her arm through yours. “That’s because you’re overthinking it. Trust me, when you find the one, you’ll just know.”

The three of you wandered through the racks, pulling out dresses and debating the merits of lace versus satin, mermaid cuts versus A-line. Jean’s enthusiasm was contagious, and even Ororo—usually so composed—couldn’t resist chiming in with the occasional suggestion.

“I think Logan would like something simple,” Ororo said, holding up a sleek gown with minimal embellishments.

Jean snorted. “Logan would think she’s perfect in anything. He’d probably prefer she showed up in her lab coat.”

You flushed at the thought, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He’s… not that bad.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Y/N, he kissed you in front of half the team last week just because you brought him a sandwich.”

“That was not—it was just a kiss on the cheek!” you protested, but your voice wavered.

Ororo chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “A lingering kiss on the cheek. We all saw it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before this wedding even happens.”

Jean patted your shoulder. “If you survive Logan’s public displays of affection, you’ll survive anything.”

The teasing made you relax a little, and you found yourself smiling as the three of you continued browsing. Eventually, the shop assistant approached, her cheerful demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

“Looking for something specific?” she asked.

You hesitated. “Not really. I just…want something that feels like me.”

She nodded knowingly and began pulling a few options. One by one, you tried them on, stepping out to show Jean and Ororo each time. They offered their opinions—Jean was quick with compliments, while Ororo provided thoughtful feedback—but none of the dresses felt quite right.

Until the assistant brought out a gown you hadn’t noticed before.

It was displayed at the back of the boutique, almost tucked away as if it were waiting for someone to find it. The assistant carefully removed it from the rack and carried it over to you with a soft smile.

“This one just came in,” she explained, holding it up. The gown was breathtaking: an off-shoulder silhouette with intricate lace detailing across the bodice and delicate long sleeves. The fabric flowed into a soft, sheer train, giving it an ethereal, timeless feel.

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful.”

Jean’s eyes widened as she took in the dress. “Y/N, you have to try that on.”

Even Ororo, usually more reserved with her reactions, gave an approving nod. “It’s stunning. I think it might be the one.”

You hesitated, running your fingers over the delicate lace. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

Jean rolled her eyes, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the dressing room. “That’s what fittings are for. Go try it on. Now.”

The assistant ushered you into the dressing room, helping you into the gown. The fabric was soft against your skin, and as she adjusted the zipper, you caught your reflection in the mirror. For the first time, you felt… right.

“Ready?” the assistant asked with a knowing smile.

You nodded, stepping out tentatively. Jean and Ororo were mid-conversation but stopped as soon as they saw you.

“Oh. My. God,” Jean whispered, standing up. “Y/N, you look—wow.”

Ororo smiled warmly. “It’s perfect.”

You turned toward the mirror at the end of the room, your heart racing as you took in the sight. The dress hugged you in all the right places, the off-shoulder design framing your collarbones elegantly. The lace sleeves felt delicate but strong, and the train flowed behind you like a whisper.

“Do you think Logan will like it?” you asked softly, fidgeting with the edge of the lace.

Jean laughed, stepping beside you. “Y/N, Logan would probably think you look perfect in a potato sack. But this? He’s going to lose his mind.”

Ororo tilted her head, considering. “It suits you. It’s elegant but understated. Timeless.”

You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, overwhelmed by how right it felt. “I think… this is it.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your hand. “Finally! I told you third time’s the charm.”

The assistant beamed. “I’ll get the paperwork started and schedule a fitting to tailor it to perfection.”

As she walked away, Jean leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, how long do you think it’ll take Logan to rip this off you after the wedding?”

“Jean!” you squeaked, your cheeks flushing.

Ororo chuckled, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love us,” Jean teased, looping her arm through yours. “And because you knew we’d find you the perfect dress. Which we did.”

You couldn’t argue with that. For the first time since you’d started planning the wedding, you felt a sense of peace. This was happening. This was real. And you couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle and see Logan’s face when he saw you in this dress.

---

Later that evening, you were back at the mansion, lounging on the couch in the common room with a cup of tea. The dress was safely tucked away, but the memory of it lingered, making you smile softly to yourself.

Logan strolled in, fresh from a workout, a towel slung over his shoulder. He spotted you immediately, his brow quirking at your dreamy expression.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, sweetheart?” he asked, dropping down onto the couch beside you.

You shook your head, trying to hide your grin. “Nothing.”

He gave you a look, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Nothin’, huh? That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

You rolled your eyes, but your blush gave you away. “Fine. I found the dress.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, taking a long look at you. “Yeah? You happy with it?”

You nodded, the smile returning. “I think so. It feels… perfect.”

His expression softened, and he reached over, brushing a thumb along your cheek. “Good. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the mansion in the background. Logan’s hand found yours, his rough fingers threading through yours gently.

“You’re sure you’re okay with the mansion for the wedding?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He chuckled. “Darlin’, as long as you’re the one walkin’ toward me, I don’t care if it’s in a field, a church, or a damn parking lot.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his side. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Hold me to whatever you want,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And in that moment, surrounded by the comfort of Logan’s presence and the thought of your future together, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

---

It was three weeks away from the start of the new school year when the wedding took place. At first, you were checking on everyone—Rogue to make sure that her, Kitty, and Jubilee were making progress with the decorations outside, and on Scott and Hank who were somehow tasked with food.

At least, until Logan noticed and locked you in the makeshift bridal suite.

Jean was laughing as she turned the key in the lock, leaning against the door while you protested from the other side. “This is for your own good, Y/N! You need to relax. Everything’s under control.”

“Jean!” you called, rattling the doorknob, though your voice lacked any real anger. “I just want to check on the decorations one more time!”

“Nope,” Jean replied cheerfully through the door. “Logan’s orders. He said, and I quote, ‘she’s gonna drive herself crazy. Lock her in if you have to.’”

You groaned, leaning your forehead against the door. “I’m not crazy.”

Jean’s voice softened. “Y/N, everything’s perfect. Trust us, okay? You’ve done enough. Now let us take care of the rest.”

Ororo’s calm voice chimed in from somewhere in the room. “She’s right, you know. The decorations look beautiful. Jubilee and Kitty outdid themselves. And Scott and Hank are handling the food just fine.”

You sighed, finally stepping away from the door. “Fine. But only because I’m outnumbered.”

Jean unlocked the door and peeked her head in, grinning. “That’s the spirit.” She stepped inside, followed by Ororo, who carried a garment bag carefully over her arm. “Now, let’s focus on the fun part: getting you ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Ororo unzipped the bag, revealing your wedding dress. The sight of it still took your breath away. The off-shoulder gown with intricate lace detailing and long sleeves was everything you’d dreamed of, and you felt a little thrill of excitement knowing you’d soon be wearing it.

Jean gestured for you to sit down in front of the vanity, where she had already laid out an array of makeup and hair tools. “Okay, here’s the plan: Ororo’s on hair, and I’ll handle your makeup. By the time we’re done, Logan’s gonna lose his mind.”

You laughed softly, settling into the chair. “He’d better not. I don’t want him passing out before the ceremony.”

Ororo chuckled as she began gently brushing through your hair. “I think Logan’s been ready for this day since the moment he met you.”

Jean smiled warmly, her hands deftly organizing the makeup. “He really has. It’s sweet, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.”

Your cheeks flushed at their words, but you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest. Logan had been a constant in your life, his gruff exterior hiding a heart that had always been devoted to you. The thought of him waiting for you at the end of the aisle made your nerves fade, replaced by anticipation.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Jean instructed, and you obeyed, letting her work her magic. The soft strokes of the brush and the hum of conversation between her and Ororo were soothing, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relaxing.

By the time they were finished, you barely recognized yourself in the mirror. Your hair was styled in soft waves, pinned delicately to one side with small, sparkling clips. Jean’s makeup was subtle but elegant, enhancing your features without overwhelming them. You looked… radiant.

“Wow,” you breathed, turning your head slightly to take it all in. “You two are amazing.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your shoulder. “We aim to please.”

Ororo helped you into your dress, carefully fastening the buttons along the back. Once the gown was in place, she stepped back, her smile warm and approving. “You’re ready, Y/N.”

You turned to face the full-length mirror, your breath catching at the sight. The dress fit perfectly, the lace shimmering softly in the light. It was everything you’d hoped for and more.

Jean wiped at the corner of her eye dramatically. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ororo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rogue’s voice called out. “Y/N? It’s time.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Jean and Ororo exchanged excited smiles. Ororo grabbed your bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses and greenery, and handed it to you. “Let’s get you married.”

The three of you made your way downstairs, the sound of soft music drifting through the mansion. The transformation of the lawn was breathtaking. Rows of chairs lined the grass, adorned with white ribbons and small floral arrangements. An archway covered in more roses stood at the end of the aisle, with Charles waiting beneath it, his wheelchair positioned just so.

And there, standing at the end of the aisle, was Logan. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked both rugged and unbearably handsome, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He looked as though nothing else in the world existed but you.

Jean gave your hand a squeeze before stepping aside to join Scott, and Ororo took her place with the other bridesmaids. Rogue beamed at you as she adjusted your train one last time. “Go get him, girl.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around your bouquet, and then you began to walk. The world seemed to blur around you, the murmurs of the guests fading into the background as Logan’s gaze held yours. Every step brought you closer to him, to the life you were about to begin together.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Logan took your hand, his grip warm and steady. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but filled with emotion. “You’re beautiful, darlin’.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Logan’s mouth quirked into a soft smirk, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. “Didn’t want to embarrass you, darlin’. Figured I’d at least try to look the part.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the nerves melt away now that you were standing in front of him. “You look perfect.”

Logan reached up, his hand brushing lightly over yours where you gripped the bouquet. “Not as perfect as you.”

Before you could respond, Charles cleared his throat gently, his voice calm but filled with quiet authority. “Shall we begin?”

Logan’s hand tightened just slightly on yours as you both turned toward Charles, who was seated in his wheelchair beneath the archway. Behind him, the soft rustling of leaves and the faint hum of summer added a serene backdrop to the moment.

Charles’s expression was serene as he looked between you and Logan. “Today is a celebration—not only of love but of the journey that brought these two together. A journey that, I suspect, was not without its share of challenges.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of knowing, though he didn’t elaborate. “Yet here you stand, hand in hand, ready to face the future together.”

Logan’s thumb rubbed gently over the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. You glanced up at him and found his gaze still fixed on you, steady and unshakable. It was as if the entire world could collapse around you, and Logan wouldn’t notice or care as long as you were by his side.

Charles continued, his tone gentle and deliberate. “Marriage is not just a bond but a partnership. It is built on trust, respect, and an unyielding commitment to each other. And, knowing the two of you as I do, I have no doubt that your bond is as strong as the adamantium in Logan’s skeleton.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from the guests, even Logan’s lips twitching into a smirk. You felt the corners of your mouth lift too, though your heart was pounding in your chest. Charles’s words resonated deeply, a reminder of everything you and Logan had been through to reach this moment.

Charles’s gaze softened as he addressed Logan. “Logan, do you take Y/N to be your wife? To stand by her side through every challenge, to share in her joys, and to love her fiercely for as long as you live?”

Logan didn’t hesitate for a second. “I do.”

The firmness in his voice sent a shiver through you. There was no doubt, no reservation—just pure, unwavering certainty.

Charles turned his attention to you, his expression kind. “And Y/N, do you take Logan to be your husband? To stand by his side through every challenge, to share in his joys, and to love him fiercely for as long as you live?”

Your voice came out soft but steady, the words carrying every ounce of truth you felt. “I do.”

Charles nodded, his hands resting on the arms of his wheelchair. “By the power vested in me and with the love and support of everyone here, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Logan, you may kiss the bride.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. The cheers and applause from the guests barely registered as you melted into him, the world fading away until it was just the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice low and gruff but filled with emotion. “We did it, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the lapels of his suit jacket. “We did.”

The applause grew louder as Logan took your hand, turning to face the guests. You caught sight of Jean wiping her eyes dramatically, grinning as Scott shook his head in amusement. Ororo and Rogue both looked radiant, their smiles wide as they joined the applause.

As the two of you made your way down the aisle, Logan’s hand never left yours, his grip steady and reassuring. The world felt brighter, lighter, as if every piece had finally fallen into place. You were married.

---

You walked with your eyes closed, your fingers intertwined with Logan's as he guided you through the bustling streets of Paris. The sounds of the city surrounded you—the distant hum of cars, the chatter of people, and the occasional soft clink of a café cup—but it all felt muffled, as if the world was holding its breath for the moment you’d finally open your eyes.

Logan’s grip on your hand was steady, comforting. It was an anchor, reminding you that this moment, this moment with him, was real. His voice, gruff yet affectionate, came from just above you. “Just a little bit further, darlin’,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

“Logan, this better not be some kind of elaborate prank,” you joked, trying to suppress your smile. “You know how easily I get nervous when I don’t know what’s going on.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm in your chest. “No pranks. Just wait, you’ll see. You’re gonna love it.”

You had no idea where you were going or what he had planned. It was just you and him, alone in the magic of Paris. You’d never been this far from the mansion before, and the city felt like a whole new world, full of promise and adventure.

The air smelled different here, cleaner somehow, and there was a faint coolness to the evening breeze. You could hear the distant sounds of tourists and Parisians going about their evening, but it all felt so far away as Logan led you further down the sidewalk.

Finally, Logan stopped walking. You could sense the change in his posture, a subtle shift in how he held you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Open your eyes.”

You hesitated for a moment before slowly lifting your eyelids, the city’s lights momentarily blinding you as you adjusted. And then—there it was.

The Eiffel Tower. Towering before you, it glittered with thousands of lights, shining bright against the darkening sky. But it wasn’t just the Eiffel Tower that took your breath away. Above it, the sky was painted with the vivid greens, purples, and blues of the Northern Lights.

You gasped, your eyes darting between the two spectacular sights before landing on Logan. “Logan… how… how did you know this was happening? The Northern Lights don’t usually appear in the summer…”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Guess I know a few things about the world you don’t, darlin’.” He paused, taking in your stunned expression. “I might’ve had a little help, but I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “This… this is perfect,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from the sky. “I can’t believe you knew this was going to happen.”

Logan shrugged casually, though his expression softened as he took a step closer. “I don’t know about the stars aligning, but I know how much you love the idea of things being right when they happen. Couldn’t let you miss this.” He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted you to see this. To know that, no matter what, there’s beauty in this world that’s meant for you.”

You stood there in stunned silence, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You had never imagined a moment like this—not with Logan, not in a city like this. He had this way of surprising you, of pulling something beautiful out of thin air when you least expected it. The man who had been your constant across so many lifetimes, always there, always remembering you when you had no memory of your past lives… and now, here he was, giving you a memory of your own.

You finally looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Logan’s lips quirked up, the corners of his mouth softening. “You deserve everything, sweetheart,” he said, his hand finding yours again. “Everything and more.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your skin. The world around you seemed to slow, as though the Northern Lights had wrapped the two of you in a blanket of time. Here, in Paris, standing beneath the Eiffel Tower with Logan beside you, you felt like maybe—just maybe—this life would be different. Maybe this time, there would be no goodbyes.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words feeling lighter than they ever had before.

Logan’s expression softened even more, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I love you, too. More than anything.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and steady. “You’re my everything, darlin’.”

The stars twinkled above you, and the Northern Lights danced in the sky, but in that moment, all you could see was Logan. His warmth. His presence. His unwavering certainty that you were meant to be together.

---

You scrunched your nose at the sky, the rain falling steadily as it soaked into the streets of Paris. The rhythm of the downpour created a gentle symphony against the canopy above you, and though the evening had been filled with so much warmth, the weather had shifted unexpectedly. But, despite the rain, Logan’s hand remained steady in yours, and the storm outside couldn’t quite dampen the mood between you.

Logan turned toward you, a hint of mischief playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Want to run through the rain, sweetheart?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Run through the rain?”

Logan's smile spread, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, sweetheart. What’s the worst that could happen? We get a little wet? Besides, you look great when you’re soaked.” His voice was playful, and there was a lightness to it that made you laugh again.

You glanced at the rain, the droplets now beginning to fall harder, streaking down the cobblestones of the Parisian street. It wasn’t the kind of weather you had imagined, but somehow, with Logan beside you, it felt like the perfect opportunity to break from the ordinary.

You shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face. “I guess if you can handle it, then I can too.” You squeezed his hand, trying to act more confident than you felt. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to be in Paris, on your honeymoon, with Logan by your side.

Logan’s grin turned into something softer, and his fingers tightened around yours as he pulled you closer. “You sure about that? We can always head back to the hotel,” he said, his voice low, the warmth of it settling around you.

“No way,” you replied quickly, your tone more playful now. “Let’s do it. Just try to keep up.”

Logan chuckled under his breath and nodded, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous spark that had always drawn you in. “Alright, sweetheart. Here we go.”

Before you could take a step, he tugged you gently toward him, and in one swift motion, he was off, pulling you with him. You laughed, the sound mingling with the soft patter of rain against the street, as you ran beside him through the warm summer rain. The water splashed at your feet, your clothes quickly soaking through, but it felt like freedom—like this moment was just for the two of you.

Logan’s laughter echoed in your ears as you both sprinted down the street, the Parisian cityscape around you a blur. You felt lighter than you had in weeks, months, maybe even years. Everything was perfect. For the first time, you didn’t have to worry about the past or what the future might bring. You only had the here and now, and Logan, the one constant in your life.

Eventually, you both slowed to a stop, your breathing heavy but your hearts light. You couldn’t help but smile at Logan, who was grinning, his hair slightly damp and his shirt clinging to his chest in the most endearing way.

“That was... definitely worth it,” you said, breathless, your voice filled with amusement.

Logan caught his breath too and wiped the water from his forehead. “Told you you’d love it,” he replied, his voice softer now. He stepped toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and before you could say anything else, he cupped your face with one hand, pulling you toward him.

His kiss was slow, tender, a contrast to the spontaneity of your run. The world seemed to stop in that moment, the sounds of the rain, the city, all fading away as you kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. There was something magical about it—about how he always knew how to make you feel special, even in the most unexpected moments.

When you finally pulled back, you both stood there, laughing quietly, your fingers still interlaced. “Okay, now I’m soaked,” you said, your smile never fading.

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful either way,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate.

You shook your head, but the smile on your face grew wider. “You’re impossible,” you teased, though the warmth of his words made your heart swell. “But I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never leaving his lips. “Good. I’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve, darlin’. Just wait.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

Logan pulled you closer again, his hand resting on the small of your back, his thumb gently tracing circles. “Trust me, sweetheart. No need to worry about anything. It’s just you and me. Always.” His words, soft and certain, settled in your chest like a promise.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the rain and his steady presence wash over you. The night had become everything you’d dreamed of and more. There would be no worries, no regrets—not as long as Logan was by your side.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what do you say? You wanna keep running through the rain, or should we head back to the hotel and dry off?”

You glanced at him, your heart racing from both the run and the way he made you feel. “I think I’m ready for a change of pace,” you said, your voice soft, almost teasing. “But don’t think I’ll forget this.”

He chuckled again, his hand slipping into yours as he led the way back toward the hotel, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as the two of you walked together, side by side, under the Parisian night sky.

if you want to know what year it is, it is 2005!

(also, again, you can imagine whatever wedding dress you want, but i based it off of this one i found when i was, once again, bored)

[writtenwhalien]

a lover's redemption | chapter 3

chapter 3. the new normal

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 13.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3

17th July 2009

The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.

“They confirmed the crash?” Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.

Han-Jae nodded. “Mostly. But he's gone.” He downed what was left of his drink. “Did we take care of the family?”

Jihoon swirls his glass. “We’ll let them go, they have no one.”

“Except Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,” Han-jae counters.

“They mean nothing to us.”

“But they were loyal to Sehun.”

Upon hearing this, Jimin went still, realising what’s happened. 

“Their loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and they’ve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.”

Han-Jae said nothing else of the matter but his face did little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. “The other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. They’re digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Inconvenient?” he echoed. “The detectives are a problem?”

Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Funny,” Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. “You said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger — trafficking charges. Another detective’s on the case, isn’t he?” His tone sharpened. “You’ve been careless, Han-Jae.”

The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Watch your tongue, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s lip curled. “You’ve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."

Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."

"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."

"Foolishly?"

"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.

Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.

“I’ve given you more than enough leash,” Jihoon continued, his voice rising. “But if you think I’ll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.”

Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. “We’ll talk about this later,” he spat. “We have somewhere to be.”

Jihoon didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. “Get a gun.”

Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Now,” Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."

Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.

Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.

Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.

“Jimin,” she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I can’t do it.”

His mother’s embrace tightened. “I never wanted this for you, Jimin,” she murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. “But this is your life now. Your father won’t wait. If you don’t go back, he’ll only get angrier.”

Jimin shook his head. “Why do you let him—” His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. “You have to go now, before he comes looking for you.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.

The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them. 

Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.

Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.

Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.

Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.

Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he ordered both boys.

Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.

Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. “I warned you to stay out of my business. But now, you’re here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The detective spat at Jihoon’s feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. “Come here.”

Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Now, Jimin."

Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.

Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.

"This man is a threat to us,” Jihoon said, calmly. “End him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “I-I can’t—”

Jihoon’s hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. “You’re weak,” he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. “Your mother’s made you soft.”

Jimin’s head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. “Is that why you always send her away?” he asked, teeth gritted. “To keep her away from me?”

Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. “She chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, it’s her choice. And it’s time you grew up and realised that.”

Jimin’s grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jimin’s ears long after the man’s body hit the floor.

Jihoon’s voice cut through the haze. “Finally.”

But Jimin didn’t hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his father’s shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. “You deal with the other one.”

Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taemin’s shoulder. “Go on, son.”

Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.

Han-Jae’s smile faded. “Do you want to disappoint me?”

The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.

The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.

Jimin’s stomach churned violently. He couldn’t bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, “I’m going to the car.”

Jihoon turned his head slightly but didn’t object. “Fine. Go.”

The indifference in his father’s voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.

The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.

The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.

He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.

His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.

When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detective’s lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.

“This is your life now,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.

His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didn’t come. They couldn’t — not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.

Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.

Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.

As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Present day

It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that you’re dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isn’t yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.

But it doesn’t happen. 

As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.

The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and you’ll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing you’re sure of, is that you’re safe. 

Looking around the room you’re in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with — now the man who saved your life…

It hasn’t escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun would’ve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you. 

You’ve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that you’ve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun. 

There’s definitely something going on, because there must’ve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you. 

Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whatever’s going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too. 

There’s also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water — a small reminder that you’re safe here. 

As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see it’s also been bandaged and you’re almost certain you’ll find stitches under there. You’re also wearing clothes that aren’t yours — a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You don’t remember anything since falling unconscious but you’re sure one of the housemaids must’ve dressed you.

Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which you’re sure must show the events that took place at your home – you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that. 

Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongi’s name. Just before you can press call, there’s a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly. 

A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit… Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Yoongi.” 

He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.”Y/N.” Walking over to your bed, he doesn’t hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.

He’s been working for Jimin, of course he has – his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your father’s death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, you’ve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too – someone you once considered a best friend.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you ask finally.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by that… 

You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return – for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew. 

 “I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifted his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated. 

Meeting his gaze, you said his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something you’d been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what would’ve been your father’s fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and you’d known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasn’t a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and you’d noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadn’t seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence – that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.

“I want to know who killed my dad.” 

The words felt strange on your tongue – though your dad’s murder wasn’t a secret to you, you didn’t often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi. 

Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. “You know.”

He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. “And I think you already know.”

The anger and frustration you’d been holding on to for years began to surface.“It was them, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi looked up. “Y/N–”

“Lee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?”

Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap. 

“Do you know why?”

“Y/N, please, don’t–”

“You promised, Yoongi.”

Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Everything.”

So he did…

Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Lee’s, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyun’s intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving. 

The Lee’s had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,

“The one that closed down months ago?” you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongi’s from there on one of your errands for him..

“Yes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?”

“Lee’s son?”

“Yes.”

You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance. 

“Closing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.”

“The Benitoite.”

Yoongi nodded. “A clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.” Looking up, Yoongi carried on. “Once that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.”

“They killed her?”

Another nod.

Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldn’t say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didn’t make any of this easier to hear.

Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. “You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“When that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasn’t opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae weren’t just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.”

Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.

“They knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out.  Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didn’t care who it was. 

“A mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.”

You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dad’s friends you thought of them as family while growing up. It’s true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you would’ve expected of them.

“So that’s why they killed my dad?” 

Yoongi shook his head. “Not exactly.” Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. “There was a lot happening around that time, I don’t know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.”

Your stomach curled.

“They wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No. And truthfully I don’t think your dad ever believed them anyway.”

It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly. 

Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “I can tell you the rest another time.”

You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like you’ve heard enough, but you need to know. “What more is there? They killed him after that, no?”

Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Not quite.” He paused, waiting. 

Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue. 

“Did you know Han-jae was married twice?”

Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasn’t always there. “Yeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?”

“Not exactly, Jiyoung wasn’t Han-jae’s daughter.” 

Now, this was news to you. 

“And her mom wasn’t a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.” 

The arranged marriage wasn’t a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your father’s affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadn’t known that Han-jae’s first wife despised him. 

“After she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didn’t like her just as much as she didn’t like him, so…  he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.”

Eyes widening, you asked, “The nightclub?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down. “But your dad saved her.”

Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.

Yoongi continues. “He knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.”

And just like that, it all made sense. “So that’s why they killed him.”

Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. “It was a means to an end for them,” he murmured. “Han-jae and Jihoon had changed. They weren’t who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.”

Yoongi’s words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger… your dad’s closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“Still could’ve told me,” you mumble, looking away from him.

“Would it have made a difference to anything?” he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile. 

Realising he’s right, you frown indignantly. “Might’ve stopped this,” you say, knowing it’s a weak point.

Yoongi’s expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. “Nothing could’ve stopped this.”

Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil. 

Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. “You need to tell me everything you know.”

Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. “I don’t actually know much,” you start, “Seojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He must’ve known who I was but I didn’t realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, he’d left and there was a note on the table.” Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi.  “This is what it said.” 

Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. “He must’ve known, but I don’t know how.” Looking up, he asks, “you never told him anything about your grandma?” 

“No,” you shake your head. “He just knew.” Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun… he had a girlfriend. “Yoongi?” You meet his gaze with worried eyes. “He had a girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s expression softens, lips pursing. “Yeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.”

Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You don’t bother asking how she’s doing, that would be a pointless question – you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, you’re certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away… you’d never seen your mom in so much pain. 

As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. “Did he not say anything at all about what he’d been doing?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.” Again, Yoongi’s expression looks pained. 

“Why?”

“A few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and there’s since been a good few detectives on their case. Taemin’s uncle got some time in prison for it and even though he’s out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him… so they killed Seojun’s mom.”  

The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. “So Seojun wanted to get back at them?”

Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. “Jimin warned him not to, he promised they’d work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, we’d join in on it.” Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. “We never got to find out what it was, and each week we’d see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish we’d taken more care.” 

Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you don’t think you know how. “I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur. 

He gives a small smile. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. “I left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.” Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.

Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. “Did he say what’s on it?”

“No,” you shake your head. “And it’s probably protected too since the Lee’s wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.” At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. “He kept saying he’d keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the end…” you trail off, looking down. “In the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.” You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in. 

When you’re done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. “Minjun was a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, he seems like it,.” You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him. 

“He has a brother, Kwan, he’s just as crazy, if not worse.”

The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you can’t imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasn’t really been on your side recently.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

He smiles softly. “Your wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.” 

“Thanks, I probably won’t use them though.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. “It’s not deep is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,” he looks up at you apologetically, “you’ll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.” 

“Oh.” You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and you’re sure there’s more damage to the property that you’re not even aware of. 

“Jimin is making all the arrangements,” Yoongi continues, “but he’s trying to keep things quiet so I don’t know exactly when things will be sorted.”

“He doesn’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“He wants to,” Yoongi responds. “He blames himself for what’s happened, so just let him please.” His words appear to carry more meaning, and you can’t imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.

“Why?”

“He blames himself for a lot of things,” Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. “This hasn’t helped.”

Even though it’s been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest – ever since you’ve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldn’t even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you don’t know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.

Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, “What happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?”

Yoongi looks up, grimacing. “It started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasn’t happy. 

“And then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.”

“Taemin?!” you ask, surprised..

Yoongi nods. “He knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasn’t fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.” His expression darkens. “He watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. I’m so grateful we were with him that day…” He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to know what he means – Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too. 

Your head lowers too. You don’t allow your thoughts to wonder what would’ve happened if Jimin had been alone, you’re just glad he got out. Though you can’t imagine what he must’ve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.

“Did he get to have a funeral for his dad?”

“Yeah,’ Yoongi answers. “Han-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasn’t having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and he’d lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.”

Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything he’s just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that they’ve fallen apart as well. 

After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. “I was surprised when they brought you in.” You look up at him as he continues. “I thought he might’ve recognised you, but he said nothing.”

“Do you think he does?” you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. “But he’s just not saying it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Might be. If he does remember you though, he’ll say something.”

“Are you going to tell them?” you ask, looking at him.

“Only if you want me to.”

After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. “At least not yet.”

Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything that’s happened, and then it comes to you.

“Dani and Siho,” you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. “Did you get them out?”

Solemnly, Yoongi nods. “I sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Let me know what they say, I’ll sort it out for them..”

Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. “They knew the risks, Y/N,  better than anyone else.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But it’s different, they were there because of me.”

“Yeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,” Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. “Sorry if this isn’t helping, you know I’m shit at comforting people.”

You smile. “I know.”

“Hey, you’re not any better though,” he says defensively, “you didn’t even hug me properly when my mom passed away.”

“What?” you chuckle. “I tried to, but I know you don’t like hugs.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not normally, but then I would've liked it.”

“Oh…” Now you feel bad. “Really?”

He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. “It’s okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.”

Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. “Yeah, you’re telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?” It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.

“Yes, actually,” Yoongi answers simply. 

Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You don’t know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself. 

As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. “Surprised?”

“Kind of.”

“You knew him though,” he says, as though that makes it so obvious.

“Knew,” you repeat. “I didn’t expect him to still be the same.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t say he’s changed, but I wouldn't exactly say he’s the same either…” looking up, he smiles again. “I guess you’ll get to see for yourself now.”

“I guess so,” you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you can’t ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, you’ll get to see for yourself if he’s anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you don’t think he would’ve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.

“D’you want something a bit more filling than that?” Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple you’ve just bitten into. “Dinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?”

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. “I am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckles, “you must be hungry, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Three days?!” When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. “I need to call Moni, she’s probably wo–”

“I already have,” Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.

Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. “What?”

“I already called her.”

A frown settles on your face. “What did you say?”

Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. “Everything, but Y/N, she needed to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “Sorry.”

For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasn’t related to any of the stuff you’ve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and what’s happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.

“Sorry,” you say. “You’re right, I just didn’t…” you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and you’re everything to her, just as she has been yours. 

“I know,” Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.

“What did she say?” 

“First, she just wanted to know if you were safe,” Yoongi answers. “After that, she didn’t say much except that she’ll come as soon as she can.”

You nod. Knowing she’s coming brings a smile to your face, you’ve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again. 

“Come on,” Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, “let’s get you some food.”

“You still remember it?” Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.

Taking another step, you shrug. “I wasn’t that little when I was last here, I must’ve been, what, eleven? Twelve?” 

“Hm, Yoongi hums. “Still impressive.” He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but you’re doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.

The Park Estate isn’t much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jimin’s. It’s flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the family’s quarter’s on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge. 

Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg. 

As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You can’t see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on. 

“Jimin’s room is down there,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.

The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.

Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase you’re approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is. 

As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you don’t respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.

“Lightning…  is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel. 

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint. 

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky.  In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia. 

“My dad painted this,” you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas. 

He doesn’t say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though he’s never seen it before. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an ‘old friend’, you know your father must’ve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldn’t trust Han-jae and Jihoon.

Just then, Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. “Come down if you can, or I’ll ask someone to come up,” he calls out as he’s already walking off towards the stairwell.

“Okay,” you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.

It’s not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but it’s also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. There’s a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and it’s a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldn’t return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your father’s own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.

You don’t realise you’re standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Admiring the art?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching his face – you didn’t realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you can’t stop staring. 

He chuckles, glancing at the painting. “You know I was talking about the painting, not me?”

Shaking out of your daze, you smile. “Yes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,” he nods, still smiling. “I’m Seokjin, but call me Jin.” He extends his hand which you shake.

“Y/N, and it’s okay, not your fault.”

“How’s the wrist?” he asks, pointing to your wrist.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts. 

“Good. And the leg?”

“It’s mostly fine,” you nod.

He smiles again. “That’s good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but it’s looking good so far. I didn’t expect you to be up so soon though,” he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.

You shrug.

 “I take it this isn’t your first time getting hurt like this?” Seokjin says casually.

 “What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gun…” he shakes his head, smiling. “It definitely wasn’t your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.”

Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again.  “I guess I like getting shot at.”

“Just like everyone else here,” he laughs. “Well, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.”

“Sure,” you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. “So what about you?” you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell. 

He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. “What about me?” 

“This definitely isn’t your first time stitching someone up,” you remark. 

“Ah,” he nods. “Definitely not.”

You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. “So you’re a doctor?” 

He snorts, stepping along beside you. “No, but I should be. I’ve done this kind of stuff enough times.”

Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin. 

“Jin hyung!” A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night – the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They can’t see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you. 

They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads. 

“Oh, miss L/N,” the first one comes forward, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” He has an adorable bunny smile and you can’t help but return it with one of your own. 

“Nice to meet you Jungkook,” you reply, shaking his hand. “And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, got it,” he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly. 

“Hi, Y/N,  I’m Hoseok, Hobi for short,” he grins, shaking your hand. 

“Hey.” You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine. 

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg. 

“Um, it’s okay,” you smile. “I can still walk at least.”

He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge. 

Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table you’re sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly. 

Before any of the guys notice you’re not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what they’re saying. It hasn’t escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasn’t recognised you – if he did, surely he would’ve told these guys since they were there too. You’re not sure if they know anything at all about you – perhaps you should’ve asked Yoongi about that before you came down. 

Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, there’s some missing.

“Are there more of you?” 

Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums. 

Hoseok answers for him. “There’s Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.”

“They were there the other day,” Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly. 

“Namjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,” Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. “We always eat together whenever we can and they’re about somewhere.” 

It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t mention Jimin’s name though.

“Taehyung is probably in the wine cellar,” Hoseok says.

“Ah, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.”

Jungkook snorts. “He thinks he’s a sommelier.”

You smile. “Well, does he make a good choice?”

“I can never tell,” Jungkook shrugs.

Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. “He’s not matured enough.”

“Hey!” Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” 

You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.

“Yoongi said you’d come down,” the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. “I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. He’s undeniably striking, and there’s something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.

The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. “I’m Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.” His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. “Finances, logistics, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.

Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. “How are you? I imagine this isn’t how you thought your day would go.”

You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. “Not exactly, no.”

Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. “Yeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people would’ve frozen in your position.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to defend myself,” you reply simply, not offering much else.

There’s a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.

“So,” Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. “Yoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.”

“Spicy works for me,” you say, grateful for the change in subject.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Great! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing – you’ll love it.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind – running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.

You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, “So, Y/N, what’s your impression of the estate so far?”

“It’s... different,” you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. “Bigger than I remember.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “You’ve been here before?”

You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. “Not this one exactly. Just a similar setup.”

Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and you’re thankful for the reprieve.

The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her – Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. You’re certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.

“Thanks, Ara,” Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.

When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.

Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. “She’s been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.”

You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.

On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.”

Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.

"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.

"Of course. It’s spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."

"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.

"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.

"More for us then."

As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. “You’ll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,” he says softly. “It’s easy to get lost, but it has its charms.”

You glance at him, wondering if there’s a deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll try not to get lost, then.”

He smiles faintly. “If you do, just call out. Someone will find you.”

Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. It’s clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why they’ve been by his side for so long – they feel like a family in their own right.

Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.

“Jin-hyung, don’t hog all the drumsticks,” Jungkook whines as he watches Jin’s plate pile up.

“Then grab faster,” Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.

Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. “I’m telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.”

“Should I?” Jungkook huffs dramatically. “Maybe next time I’ll just take the whole plate first.”

“Do it, and I’ll poison your portion,” Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. “Don’t worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.”

You smile faintly, watching them banter. It’s strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

“Maybe I’m just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,” you reply lightly.

Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. “Yeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.”

“I heard that,” Jin retorts, mock-offended. “I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re ensuring there’s nothing left for the rest of us,” Hoseok counters, sipping his water.

As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. It’s a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate. 

“By the way, hyung,” Namjoon says, turning to Jin. “Have you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.”

“Oh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?” Jin sighs dramatically. “Can’t a guy just eat in peace?”

“It’s your own fault for procrastinating,” Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t drag me into your world of schedules,” Jin retorts. “I’m a free spirit.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.

“Enough guys,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseok’s. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Don’t eat all the dessert without us,” Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.

“Like we’d wait for you,” Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.

“Do they always leave like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. It’s a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.”

“Or they just like to be mysterious,” Jin adds, rolling his eyes. “Half the time, it’s probably nothing.”

You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but there’s no denying the underlying layers to their lives.

After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You nod, brushing it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Jin says, rising from his seat. “You should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.”

The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you can’t shake the feeling of what’s happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come. 

Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. “It’s bringing back memories, huh?” He asks, seeing right through you. 

“Yep.” You look around. “Loads. I don’t know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.” You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.

“I think it’s normal. You were young when you came here and I don’t think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?”

He’s right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoung’s occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, it’s like walking through a memory you can’t decide if you’re grateful for or aching to forget.

You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesn’t press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.

Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life you’re now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the house’s front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.

Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly. 

Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driver’s seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.

Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you can’t see the estate’s gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind – a familiar marker from years ago.

“Where are they going?” you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.

“Something’s wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. Akira has been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons they’re now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.”

You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jimin’s mother’s garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.

As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isn’t much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.

Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. “I think you’re due for your meds again.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You wanna stay here or go back up?”

You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. “Mm, I know I slept for days, but I’m actually still exhausted.”

Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. “That’s to be expected. Don’t worry.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “We’ll go up, but this time we’re taking the lift.”

You can’t help but smile faintly at his consideration. “Appreciate that,” you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.

The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.

Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine – after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.

“Moni?” you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmother’s face appeared.

The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice warm. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. “Really.”

She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. “Good. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."

You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. “Tell me about Jimin.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“About recognizing you?” she asks, her brow lifting slightly.

You nod. “Nothing.”

She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. “I don’t imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You haven’t changed much. He, however... he’s different.”

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.

“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. “When I last saw him, I didn’t see the same little boy I knew.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. “Life hasn’t been kind to any of us.”

Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. “Do you remember his father?”

“Of course I do,” you say without hesitation. “It’s hard to forget a man as cold as him.”

“And Mr. Lee?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. “I know, Moni,” you say quietly, cutting her off.

She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."

“I know it was them,” you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They did it. They killed Dad.”

She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. “They were his best friends,” she says softly. “And then, all of a sudden…” She trails off.

You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. “You’re there now, though… so, do you trust Jimin?”

You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.

“I didn’t, at first,” you admit. “But I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."

She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. “You’re safe there, Y/N.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You trust Jimin?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation. “I trust him with you, and you’re my everything.”

The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.

“You need to rest,” she instructs, her tone turning firm again. “I’ll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.”

Your lips quirk up at the thought. “That would be nice.”

"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.

As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.

Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You can’t see the part of the grounds where Jimin’s mother’s garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.

As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.

As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadn’t thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.

Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.

“Can’t you sleep, little bear?”

The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.

Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier.

There’s a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.

You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.

Realising what he just said, his words stop you short – it’s the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.

Jimin steps closer, the lamp’s dim light casting soft shadows on his features.

As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you – a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence.

Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there’s a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.

“Y/N,” he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you admit, your voice soft. “I’m surprised you remember the book.”

Jimin’s smile grows, faint but genuine. “How could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.”

“Thank me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. “It was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasn’t allowed picture books of my own, so… thank you.”

You remember then how he once told you about his father’s strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books – if they didn’t teach something useful, they weren’t worth having.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly.

Jimin’s gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your father’s work.

“He was talented,” Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.

You smile faintly. “He was.”

After a moment, he adds, “I can have it moved to your room, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. This is where it belongs.”

Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. “It’s actually covering up a stain we couldn’t remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.”

“Me?” you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.

He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didn’t want to sleep, so you ran away from her – with all the paints.”

As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. “Oh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.”

Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. “We tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.”

You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s still here.”

Jimin’s smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. “It’s been a long time since then,” he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.

You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. “Yes,” you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. “Though being here again… it almost feels like no time at all.”

Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “I imagine it feels different,” he says, “without your father?”

“Exactly,” you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. “It felt safe wherever he was.”

“And now?” His question is soft, careful, as though he’s weighing each word before speaking.

You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. “I want to say yes,” you admit honestly, “but experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.”

Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. “You’ve learned not to trust anyone,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming.

“You’re right to think that,” he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls you’ve built all too well.

The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, “Can I trust you?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “But you’ll make that decision on your own.”

You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. There’s no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. It’s not a promise – it’s an invitation.

“Until then,” he continues, his voice softening, “please, make yourself at home. You’re safe here.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too – after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.

His presence feels closer now and you find yourself smiling faintly, glancing back at the painting.

It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jimin’s presence stirs in you – a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.

note. thank you all so much for reading! please don’t be a silent reader :’) this fic takes me forever to write and I’d love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333

[thechaoticcherub]

Thoroughfare

Thoroughfare Chapter One The Ring of Fire

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Fic Summary: Cross country road trip turns into way more, opening up questions about who you're traveling with, what his intentions are and if he'll actually let you go.

Chapter Summary: The adventure begins when you meet Joel Miller on the side of a dusty Texas Road and hop in his truck to head off to Dallas.

Rated: Explicit-This chapter has no sex

Warnings: AU-No Cordyceps, Big Age Gap, Reader is not described, no use of y/n, Reader is briefly referred to as a fake name, DARK Joel, Eventually: daddy kink, rough sex, violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping elements, murder, sexual assault, dom/sub dynamics. More Warnings will come with each chapter.

Notes: Here's the first chapter of Thoroughfare! My first Joel Miller chaptered fic! I'm really excited and enjoying writing this. Thanks to my AMAZING best friend for beta reading and editing.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

If there was one thing Joel Miller was going to bring from Austin, Texas to Jackson, Wyoming, it would have been you. Unfortunately, you were as unaware of him as it was possible for a young girl to be of an old man who obsessed over the very ground you walked on. So, Joel made plans. When his brother had disappeared Joel could have guessed it had been about a girl, he hadn’t guessed that girl would be pregnant, but it didn’t necessarily surprise him. At first Joel had been pissed off. At first, he was frustrated that Tommy would just up and leave him, decide to go without any real warning, leaving Joel to clean up their messes, yet again. Eventually,  Joel saw it as an opportunity to live out the rest of his life in relative peace in a  beautiful place. But you stuck in the back of Joel’s head, the only thing tying him to Texas at all. Joel didn’t think he had the strength to cut those ties. Joel had spent years and years thinking about you, obsessing over if you were happy, if you were safe. As you got older, he thought about if you had someone special. You, of course, wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from fuckin’ Adam. That was, if you even spared him a singular glance. He could probably draw a map of the lights shining in your eyes at any given time if he was instructed to.

Maybe this singular thing is what made Joel Miller truly a bad man. An obsession with a girl easily young enough to be his own daughter. But no, Joel knew better. There were a bunch of things that made him a bad man, and if anything, you were his redeeming quality. Even if you didn’t know it. So he felt locked in to Texas for the rest of his life; but bloodlines were strong, and he wanted to find a way to Tommy, to something resembling peace. He spent the last few days organizing a trip he wasn’t even sure was happening, finalizing things in Austin and considering his options with you. All more illegal than the last one. That didn’t phase him, but your happiness did. 

Luck finally seemed to be on Joel’s side one afternoon as he was driving along the highway a ways outside of Austin. The stretch of road was a weird mix of country and suburbia. The knowledge of your location sat like a pit in his stomach. He knew this was just on the other side of your typical stomping grounds. And as he rounded a curve in the road, there you were. Backpack slung over your pretty shoulders,  sun shining off the top of your head. When you heard his truck, your head perked in that direction, you turned and he could see you, seeming to glimmer in the shine from the sun. Your hand stuck out towards the road, your thumb appearing like some kind of beacon in a dark night. Ships passing would use it as a lighthouse to guide themselves home, and that’s just what Joel did, pulling his truck off onto the dirty side of the road just ahead of you. 

You jogged over to the truck, full of life and vibrancy. Joel rolled the passenger window down and looked over at you standing there. Apprehension settled over your face as you looked into the car at the middle aged man sitting in the driver’s seat. At least you had good enough sense to be concerned. 

“Hitchhiking ain’t smart, darlin’” He chastised, his eyes flicking over your pretty face as you seemed to examine both him and the interior of the car. 

“I know,” You said, your voice immediately sounding somewhat defensive. “But a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.” You put your hand up on your forehead to shade your eyes from the sun, squinting into the truck at him. 

Joel nodded, trying to seem open and kind, a friendly older guy who could take you somewhere, drop you off and let you go on your way. “How old are ya?” he asked. 

“Twenty-two,” You said instantly. Liar. Joel thought, you had just turned eighteen. That was the only reason you were runnin’ from something, because no cop would follow you anymore. He raised his eyebrows like he wasn’t sure if he believed you but you held onto your lie and Joel decided not to fight you on it. 

“Where ya headed, missy?” He asked. Maybe he was acting too familiar. Maybe this would somehow give away something to you but the term of endearment just slipped out. He was too used to the way he referred to you in his head. You sucked on your lower lip, looked around the deserted highway, as if weighing your options. 

“Dallas,” You said, “You headed that far?” You cocked your hip out at the same time as you tilted your head. 

“I was goin’ to Forth Worth so it ain’t hard to get you to Dallas first,” He said, “Hop in, kid.” He reached down and pressed the button to unlock the doors of the truck. You hesitated. Joel’s heart thrummed in his throat. There was a part of him that hoped you’d say never mind, that you’d back away and listen to whatever it was that your gut was telling you to do. Maybe you weren’t that smart, or you felt desperate enough to ignore your gut. 

He didn’t really want you to say no and run from him. He was practically purring in approval as you opened up the truck door and climbed in. Instead of running from him, you were running headfirst into the darkest part of the fairytale. Without a second glance you slammed the door and started to pull your seatbelt on. 

“Thanks so much!” You said happily, maybe more comfortable now that you had just made the decision, or maybe just that naive. 

“No problem, name’s Joel,” He said, reaching his hand out after putting the truck into gear, keeping his eyes on the road. You took his head and Joel’s heart was light as feathers, tickling his chest and throat as he felt your fingers for the first time in so long. “What’s your name?” he asked, prompting you to speak. You were quiet and Joel momentarily wondered if you were contemplating giving him a fake name. What would be the point though? You were already in his car, and starting to fly down the highway. Even as he thought that, you were speaking,

“Sarah,” The lightness in Joel’s heart vanished. It sank like lead, splashing into his stomach and his face dropped. Lies. Liar. Liar. Fuckin’ liar.

Sarah had been the first name that came to your mind when he had asked you. Of course you weren’t about to give a perfect stranger your real name, you were already being an idiot for  getting into Joel’s car. The lie tasted bad in your mouth, probably because you knew a fake name was going to be harder to keep up with than a fake age. You had been lying about your age since you were sixteen so at eighteen it felt easy to say twenty-two and keep up with it, even if it was unbelievable to most. 

“So what got ya out here hitchhikin’ on 190 all by your lonesome?” Joel asked. There was a twist of his lips, and a slight furrow of his brow, back to a placid lake of nothingness that made you more uneasy than the friendly expression from before. You weren’t sure how much you should lie, lies got tangled and unraveled and you weren’t keen on him discovering you were lying while he drove you over 2 hours to Dallas. 

“I live with my aunt and it’s been…bad for a while, we got in a fight last night, so I decided it was time to go, and…I don’t have my own car so here we are.” It was the truth, easier to give the truth on something like that than add to the list of things you had to remember. 

“Hmm,” he said, acknowledging your predicament but not immediately offering any other thoughts. “Tough,” he said. Joel had one hand on the top of the steering wheel, keeping a steady 72 miles per hour while he spoke. You were picking at the cuticle of your thumb, not paying too much attention to him but remaining quietly polite. “She not okay with you havin’ freedom or somethin?” Your eyes snapped up at the question, looking over at him to find his eyes on you, not the deserted road. It was so specific. How did he know exactly what that fucking fight had been about? He looked at you a touch too long for someone driving but then glanced back at the road and you let go of the paranoid thoughts you were having. He must have just made an assumption, based on the fact that you were clearly lying about your age, and the fact that you fought with her. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right though, 

“Kind of,” You answered, “We just don’t get along.” You  looked out your window and hoped he would let it go. It was an understatement, your Aunt Tilda seemed to love yelling and goading you into arguments so she would have an excuse to punish you. You had tried running away when you were younger, but the police had always managed to bring you back, much to your dismay.  Now that you were eighteen, there was nothing keeping you there except access to a means of transport, but the argument the night before had made it abundantly clear that you couldn’t let that stop you anymore. 

“She put her hands on ya?” Joel asked suddenly. It seemed so nosy to you. Irritation flared in your chest, and you unglued your eyes from the blurry shapes of the fields passing by outside your window to look over at him. He must have picked up on your irritation, because he shrugged, “Ya just seem desperate to get outta there, ya know? Not tryin’ to pry, Sarah. Just an observation from a friendly stranger.” He shot you a smile that eased your nerves, and you shook yourself internally. He was just trying to be nice. He  had picked you up off the side of the road and who knew, maybe he had a daughter…or granddaughter… your age who he cared about and so he was just…feeling bad about you. 

“Couple times, but maybe I deserved it, you know?” You said,  leaning back in the truck seat and rolling your head around to look over at him. You watched a muscle jump in his jaw. He was good looking for an older guy, that was easy to see. He had a strong jaw, and a nose like those Greek…or was it Roman? Well, either way, it was straight from those statues you had seen in your textbooks. His skin was tanned and looked worn from working in the sun, and if you had to guess, you would have thought maybe he worked outdoors. Maybe he was a cowboy or had been a ranch hand or something. Your imagination was running away from you now, having always had a fascination with cowboys and the Wild West. Texas had plenty of cowboys.  Not in Austin, though. The culture was around sure,, but it had never seemed like what you imagined the wild west would be. Like out in Montana or Wyoming. Mountains and rolling hills, fields and landscape that stretched out in front of you. Maybe it was just Austin that didn’t feel like the wild west you had always imagined, maybe if you had lived in west Texas you wouldn’t have dreamt of running away so much. 

“Did ya hit her?” Joel asked, breaking you from your thoughts. You could almost laugh at that. The idea that you would have ever tried to hit her back, or fight back at all, was ridiculous. 

“No.” You said. 

“Well then, you didn’t deserve it,” He glanced over to you, and you had to hide your smile. It felt validating. It felt…right to be told you didn’t deserve it. Joel must have caught your smile because he smiled too, and it seemed to change his whole face from stern to easy going. 

“So, Sarah,” he said, and the name sounded wrong when he said it. It was like he just knew it wasn’t your real name and maybe that was just a paranoid thought. “What are you going to do in Dallas?” He asked. You weren’t sure how much you wanted to tell him about your plans but what was the truth really going to provide for him? It might even be better for him to know that someone would know you were coming. 

“I’ve been talkin’ to this guy who lives up there and… I don’t know, we have plans to meet. But from there, I don’t really know.” You had a little money and maybe you could find yourself a job. You watched as Joel reached out and twisted the dial on the radio to tune to a different station, one playing old country songs. At least he wasn’t playing talk radio or some right wing garbage that would make you feel even more unsafe. Country like this always felt like childhood, dreaming of cattle drives and cold mountain mornings, cowgirl boots, and rodeos. Things you never really experienced but you watched, filled with jealousy,  while other people did. Joel raised his eyebrows as you spoke of a boy and that muscle in his jaw clenched again. It was a tiny, possessive movement that seemed completely at odds with your level of familiarity with him, which was zero. 

“Relyin’ on a boy?” he asked. You shrugged. 

“He’s nice.” You said dismissively, “What’re you doin’ in Fort Worth?” You wanted to change the subject away from your plans and whether or not relying on a boy was a good idea. 

“Got some business to finish up there, but I ain’t stayin’ for long.” He told you, one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other elbow resting on the door. “I’m actually headin’ to meet up with my brother in Wyoming,” He said.

“What are you doing there?” You asked, trying to hide your internal excitement at the idea of what you had always deemed as The Wild West. You wondered if he caught onto the barely concealed excitement in your words

 “We work in construction together and he’s found good work up in Jackson, so we’re leavin’ Texas for a while,” He explained. “Headin’ further west,” He nodded. You had been right, he was the type of man to work outside. Blue collar. But not a cowboy, even though there was something about him that screamed cowboy to you. 

“Jackson? Like Jackson Hole?” You asked. 

“Yeah round there, why? You ski?” He looked over at you as if he didn’t believe that for a second. 

“No,” You laughed, “I just like the mountains, always wanted to live in the ‘wild west’” You put air quotes around it, “I grew up wanting to ride horses, go to rodeos and stuff,” You shrugged. 

“Not enough of that stuff in Texas for ya?” Joel joked. 

“Not in my world,” You mumbled, thinking of the double wide you grew up in  the weird half country, half suburban wasteland of the outskirts of Austin, Texas. Nothing scenic about that. Joel nodded and you fell into relative silence. The country music on the radio was enough for both of you. It was easier to let the conversation die and the silence was surprisingly comfortable.You watched the scenery and thought of Wyoming, the mountains, and how you’d love to see a rodeo. A real rodeo. Not just one on the television. Not just a stunt show at the county fair. You could meet real cowboys, not just stupid teenage boys who wore fancy hats and pretended. You must have nodded off because when Joel spoke again you practically jumped out of your seat,

“You hungry?” He was looking at you and the clock was a half hour later than when you last looked. “Whoa there, darlin’” He laughed as you jumped. “You were snoozin’ good there, weren’t ya?” he asked. You smiled nervously. 

“I guess so,” You looked out the window, checking to make sure you were still heading in he right direction. 

“You hungry?” he asked again. “There’s a diner up here, easy to stop and have a bite quick.” 

“Uhhh,” You didn’t really want to stop even though you were hungry and had to pee, you glanced over at him, unsure. 

“I’m buyin’ if that helps you decide,” he cracked another smile and you felt your resolve fail a little. 

“Okay,” you agreed. “Yeah, I could eat.” 

A few minutes later Joel had pulled off at an old fashioned roadside diner and parked. You briefly contemplated bringing your whole backpack with you into the diner, and maybe you should have, but you chose to leave it sitting on your seat and followed him inside.

While Joel got you a table, you went straight for the bathroom, peeing, then washing your hands and staring at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired. Maybe a little worried. There was no real reason to believe that the friendly older man who had picked you up was going to hurt you,  he had been nothing but appropriate. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off. No. You were so paranoid it was ridiculous. When you  walked out of the bathroom, Joel was at a booth not far from the front door you walked over and sank down across from him. It was odd to be sitting across from him without the distraction of driving. He was looking at the menu, 

“Get whatever ya want,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. “I-I have some money,” you felt like you needed to offer now that you were here even though you didn’t want to spend the precious little money you had on a burger.  

“Yeah, I’m sure,” He half laughed, “I’m not going to have you spend your money on food you didn’t ask for,” He explained, “You’re goin’ to need that money,” it felt so genuine and honest that you relaxed even more. You looked down at your menu, searching through it for what you wanted. If he was really saying get whatever you wanted, then you were getting a milkshake with your burger. May as well fill up now so you didn’t need to eat tonight and could spend your money on a motel room. 

“Thank you,” you said, looking up at him. “For picking me up, for being so nice…and you know, for not murdering me,” You joked. Joel let out a laugh as you said that, 

“Were you worried you were goin’ to get murdered?” Joel’s eyes sparkled, like he was enjoying the joke and again, all his features seemed to soften. It made him look younger. 

“I mean, you said yourself that hitchhiking isn’t smart,” You reminded him. The waitress came over then and took your orders, you got a chocolate milkshake, a cherry coke, and a cheeseburger with fries. Joel got a sweet tea and a bacon burger with fries. For some reason the sweet tea surprised you. You hadn’t known what you expected from him, but maybe not sweet tea. 

“I spose I did,” Joel answered you when the waitress left, “It is good that I picked you up and not some creep or somethin’” He said, there was a glint in his eyes again, a sparkle of mischief but you knew it was just from the joke about not getting murdered. You nodded,

“Yeah I lucked out with a kindly old man,” You teased, feeling comfortable enough now to joke.

“Careful,” he said, “We ain’t in Dallas yet,” his tone was playful. He fiddled with the watch on his wrist. You noticed it wasn’t ticking in fact, it was completely broken. You almost asked him, but something in you told you not to pry. 

“I’m kidding, you don’t even really seem like an old man,” You said, wanting to make sure he didn’t actually get angry at you. Joel snorted, 

“Thanks for butterin’ me up, darlin’” he said. “So, what got ya interested in the Wild West?” he asked, his eyebrows raising around the words ‘wild west’ as if it was some mysterious thing. You thought for a minute, 

“Grew up watching westerns, and I went to a school where all my friends could afford to take riding lessons and I couldn’t, so it was something out of my reach.” You thought more of all those nights lying on your mattress on the ground of your bedroom, looking at the moon through the back window of the double wide and dreaming of fabled cowboys, their bravery and heroism. “My parents died when I was real young, I guess I always kind of dreamed of a cowboy coming to rescue me…someone whisking me away It was silly but it stuck.” I said. “I never liked Disney movies when I was little because a prince seemed so boring,” You were picking at your thumbnail while you let all this spill out to the man you barely knew across the booth from you. “I wanted to get rescued, taken away, and taken on adventures,” You explained. “And to me,  the best adventures happened on horseback in the mountains with danger and beans out of a can I guess,” You laughed and Joel did too. You hadn’t been looking at him while you spoke, you had been staring at your nails, picking the cuticle apart, thinking about those things that happened to you that you couldn’t really remember. Now your eyes flicked up to meet his, he was watching you talk. You were taken aback by how carefully he was listening to your childish nonsense. 

“Did your Aunt care about your cowboy dreams?” He asked. You snorted with laughter, 

“I don’t know. It never seemed like it,” You said. “I asked to go to the rodeo for my birthday every year and it never happened but we didn’t have much money,” You shrugged. 

“That’s too bad, growing up in Texas and never goin’ to a rodeo should be a crime,” Joel said You were interrupted by the waitress bringing over your drinks. You focused on sipping your cherry coke, relishing the tingly bubbles and sweetness. It was a relief and distraction from the topic. While you held your cold glass and sipped your Coke you let your eyes wander around the diner. It wasn’t busy, but  it wasn’t empty, either . Clean formica tables with red padded chairs and booths were organized around a counter with stools. You could hear a quiet, tinny version of Johnny Cash singing Ring of Fire from speakers older than you. 

I fell into a burning ring of fire; I went down, down, down; And the flames went higher; And it burns, burns, burns.

“You wanna go out west?” Joel asked, stirring the ice in his sweet tea with his straw. The question sounded too casual to you, it didn’t feel like a throwaway question, it felt like there was more to it that you weren’t totally picking up on.. You were confused. What was he asking? If you wanted to go someday? Or right now? For some reason the question made your heart skip a beat and a strange shiver run up and down your spine. 

The taste of love is sweet; When hearts like ours meet; I fell for you like a child; Oh, but the fire went wild.

“I mean, yeah, someday, I’d like to get out there-”

“No, I mean now, darlin’” Joel said. His dark eyes were studying your face, watching for every microexpression, you could feel that. A warning sign had been built up like a barricade inside of you, stopping the excited flames of your need for adventure from burning you down. Was he offering to bring you to Wyoming with him? Was that weird? No. Not from him. He was just a nice older guy and you were completely capable of handling yourself and running if you absolutely needed to. Getting out of Texas sounded so nice. 

“Like…with you?” You asked, wanting to confirm. Joel chuckled. The waitress came back with your food and set it down in front of you. Your hunger had abated in the wake of the excitement of possibilities. Joel picked up a french fry, 

“Yeah, with me.” He said. “I promise I won’t murder you,” he teased and for some reason the joke eased any doubt you had, and stoked the fire of desire for The Wild West and adventure. The fire inside you immolated the warning sign and you found yourself nodding. 

And it burns, burns, burns; The ring of fire; The ring of fire; The ring of fire.

“I…I mean, if thats okay with you? I would…yeah that would be so great!” You said breathlessly, letting go of any hesitation, trusting that this is what you were meant to do. You were getting everything you had dreamed of: a way out of Texas. Joel looked like a cowboy, he could be that cowboy that came along to take you away from monotony and into adventure. You finally felt like you could start eating so you picked up a french fry and took a bite. 

“I’d much rather you be with me then some boy from the internet who doesn’t know you or care a lick about you,” He said. Briefly you wondered how meeting a boy from the internet was worse than a man from the side of the road, but it was clear that he just cared for whatever reason. “You gotta do one thing for me though,” He said and your heart sank into you gut, your hands stopped with your burger halfway to your mouth. Here was the thing that was going to send you running. You tilted your head to the side, waiting for the shoe to drop. “You gotta tell me the truth.” He said, his voice had gone serious and his face had shifted from that open friendly one to something sterner again. You bought some time by taking a bite of your burger.

“What?” You asked, your mouth full. Maybe you were playing dumb, maybe you had forgotten about your lies but you wanted clarification before you continued on. 

“Your age. Your name.” He said. “What are they? Be truthful now. Seein’ as we’re goin’ to be travelin’ together, I think I’m owed the truth.” How had he known you were lying about your name? Your age…well, that was obvious. You weren’t twenty-two, that was clear to see. But your name…how had he known that Sarah wasn’t your real name? Were you just that bad of a liar? Maybe. 

“I’m eighteen,” You said, looking down at your plate as you put your burger back down. Joel was chewing his own food, nodding. 

“Makes more sense,” he said. “Twenty-two,” he scoffed, and it made you smile a little. Looking back, you realized it had been a little ridiculous to think someone would believe that. “You sure you’re actually eighteen?” He asked. You looked into his eyes and nodded. He seemed to accept that and took another bite of his burger, “And your name?” He asked. You shifted uncomfortably,

“How’d you know Sarah wasn’t my real name?” You asked. 

“You ain’t a good liar, kid.” He said. “Not to me,” He picked  up a couple fries and ate them.. You reached out for the milkshake you had forgotten about and picked it up, sipping it. “Now, out with it. What‘s your real name?” He asked. You felt young when he spoke to you like this, like an ashamed child caught in lies. You stared down at your food and gave him your name. 

“Nice to properly meet ya, kid.” He said. “Now let’s just agree to be honest with each other.” He said. You didn’t look up, still holding your milkshake and examining your burger and fries. “You ain’t in trouble,” he laughed and finally you glanced up. 

“Okay,” You said. 

“Okay.” He agreed. 

Joel still had business to finish in Fort Worth so you kept on your way north. You planned to stay the night in Fort Worth before heading west from there. Joel spent the last hour of the car ride quizzing you on what the different old country songs were and who was singing them. 

“Damn, for a cowboy lovin’ girl you ain’t got an ear for proper cowboy music.” He had said after your third song wrong. 

“It’s cause I’m not 95 years old, Joel.” You had snipped at him, now aware his age was a sore spot for him and intending on using it whenever you needed to. He shot you a playful look and you could feel any semblance of guard you had up still, slipping. He reminded you of an old boyfriend of your aunt’s,  who had always been nice to you and drove you around in the back of his pickup just for fun. He had you look up a motel with availability in Fort Worth and asked for prices on rooms, you listed off different chain places with decent ratings and a room for less than $100 a night until finally you said, 

“There’s the Sundance Motel, you know like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?” 

“How much for a night?”

“$95,” You answered.

“To the Sundance Motel! Seems like fate,” He said, eyes turning back to the road. The sun was starting to set now, blazing in the west, reminding you that that was the direction you were officially headed in. It made your heart skip every time you considered it. 

The Sundance Motel was a typical two story motel a short drive off of the highway,  the pink doors for each room opened onto a view of the dirty looking pool. It was kitschy, but the big sign cried of a vacancy and had a blazing sun as the logo.  There was an iHop next to it, and across the street was a dingy bar attached to a music shop. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked around the place while Joel went into the front office to get a room. Maybe this wasn’t sleeping under the stars in the mountains yet, but it was still different. When Joel came back he was smoking a cigarette, he got into the truck and drove around to the side parking lot. 

“Are you sure I can’t give you some money for the room?” You asked quietly once he parked and opened up his door. 

“Don’t think about it, darlin’” he said, “You need to save your money for when you get to Wyoming,” he explained again. You sucked on your lower lip and slipped out of the cab of the truck. You grabbed your backpack and followed him up the stairs to the second floor and around to a room that looked out over the center of the pool. Joel opened the door and pushed it open, flicking his cigarette away before he walked in. 

It was surprisingly clean. Two queen beds, a television on a dresser, and then a door directly to the right that must have held the bathroom. You felt distinctly awkward as you walked into the room, holding your backpack and looking around. Joel had a bag too and you eyed it briefly as he set it down on the  dresser. “You can pick whatever bed ya want,” he said. You decided on the bed closer to the door and set your backpack on it. You sank down on the bed and watched him take off his watch, carefully setting it on the bedside table and picking up the remote for the television. He fiddled with it for a second before looking over at you, 

“I know this is uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “We don’t really know each other, you’re a young lady,” He gestured to you and then back at himself, “And I’m a grumpy old fucker,” he half laughed and you nervously smiled, wondering where  he was going with this. “But we’re goin’ to be thrown together a lot during this trip an’ maybe it’s best if we just…think of each other like an estranged father and daughter, gettin’ to know each other again.” He said. 

You shifted on the bed, unsure of what to say, the reason it was awkward was because how could either of you trust each other yet? You couldn’t force trust, but maybe you could fake it until you did. Just to make this more comfortable. “Mhm,” you said.

“You ain’t got anythin’ to worry about, darlin’” He continued, “I’m not goin’ to let any harm come to you while we’re travelin’ together, alright? Just, trust me on that.” He seemed so genuine and so serious. As if there was something that would have definitely hurt you if he hadn’t been there with you. You nodded. 

“And I’m not trying to…use you or rob you or anything,” You said, your voice still sounding a little nervous. You fiddled with the hem of the dress you wore and you looked over at him where he was sitting on his bed. Joel chuckled,

“You’d sure be disappointed if you tried,” he said. You smiled and he flipped the television on. He browsed the channels while you opened your backpack and took out your phone charger, plugging it in and working on rearranging the stuff in your backpack. 

“Hey look at that, our friend Butch Cassidy is about to rob the train,” Joel said, drawing your attention to the television where Paul Newman and Robert Redford were forcing the engineer to stop the train. You couldn’t miss the twist of fate that was the classic western movie, one that shared a name with the motel you were currently in, was playing on TCM just as you got settled into your room. It felt like a good omen. Plus, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was one of your favorites, so you settled into watch while playing a stupid game on your phone. About a half hour into the movie he stood up, 

“I gotta run a quick errand,” He said, tucking his phone into his pocket. “A problem on the job site I’m finishing up with here,” he explained. He put a key to the hotel room down on the bedside table and pocketed the other one. “I might be a little late…so you can shower and fall asleep, whatever you need, and I wont be buggin’ you for a while.”

You were confused but you nodded, “Okay, I’ll be here,” You said.

 He got his car keys but left his bag and watch, and left you there in the room. 

It was a relief to be alone for a while. It gave you a moment to think without the pressure of his presence. If you had really wanted to, you could have gotten an Uber and been picked up and gone before he came back. You wondered if maybe he went on this errand specifically so you had that opportunity. Maybe he thought that if he showed you he wasn’t trying to stop you from leaving, you’d feel more comfortable, and to be honest, it was working. It felt good to know he didn’t care if you just up and left him. You weren’t going to but having the option felt…right. You used his absence to shower, put on the one pair of pajamas you packed, and crawl into bed. You were exhausted. You watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid as closely as you could, trying to turn your brain off and let the exhaustion pull you into the blackness of sleep. You weren’t sure when your thoughts stopped making sense and turned into dreams, but you must have fallen asleep for quite a while because when you opened your eyes next it was to the sound of the door closing. Joel. For some reason you didn’t want him to know he had woken you open so you stayed still and kept your eyes closed. 

The room was very dark, the television must have had a timer because it had turned off on its own. When you cracked one eye open to look at the clock on the bedside table, it read 2:49 AM. You shut your eyes again as you heard Joel tiptoeing across the floor. When he passed the beds you cracked your eyes, just enough to see his outline but not enough for him to be able to tell you were awake. You kept your breath steady as he paused by the bathroom door and looked at you, making sure you were asleep and then he turned to the bathroom and pushed it open, bathing him in the light you had left on. Your heart froze and a chill settled over your whole body as you realized what you were seeing.

Joel. The handsome, old, cowboy like man who had driven you for over two hours today had blood all over his t-shirt and splattered onto his neck. As he removed the flannel shirt from overtop of the t-shirt, you saw his forearms were also smattered with the stuff. His hands were oddly clean. Your throat felt tight and you felt rooted to the place. Should you run right now? No. You wouldn’t get far and he would know you saw him covered in blood. Was it blood? Could it be paint? You were so scared of him noticing you were awake you couldn’t even inch closer to the edge of the bed. You were fooling yourself if you thought it was paint. Paint didn’t look like that. Joel turned the sink tap on and you heard him start to quietly hum, 

Baa baa ba ba ba ba ba ba da baaaa

Ba ba ba ba ba baa da baaaa

You couldn’t really make out what he was humming, everything in you was trying to reconcile what you were seeing with what you knew of him. You wished you had stayed asleep. You wished you hadn’t seen this. You wished you had never met Joel. Maybe without him you’d be dead in a ditch right now but maybe you’d end up dead in a ditch with him too. Joel tugged off the bloody t-shirt and with a jolt you realized what he was humming because he very quietly put words to the tune,

Love is a burning thing; And it makes a fiery ring; Bound by wild desire; I fell into a ring of fire

I fell into a burning ring of fire; I went down, down, down; And the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns…

The ring of fire…

The ring of fire…

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood

Chapter: 6.07

You silently prayed, holding onto the silver cross Carl gave you while Maggie slept in the bed in the RV. She was in so much pain, and eventually exhaustion had taken over her. The thought of losing her terrified you.

Rick crouches down beside you and gently squeezes your shoulder. “Do you remember the night at the prison when the gate fell down and the walkers got through; it was at the same time everyone was sick with the flu?”

You wipe at your eyes, which now feel sticky with tears. “Yeah?”

“Me, you, and Carl stopped the horde from getting to the people we love.”

“I don’t understand,” you admit.

“You needed to be brave that night, just as you have so many other times. When you shot Ron... Maggie needs you to be brave now.”

“I’m scared I’m going to lose her.”

“I know, but the doctor in Hilltop will take good care of her.” Rick lowers his voice. “It’s not just your sister that needs you; Carl does as well. He’s trying to be strong, but everything that’s happened since we arrived in Alexandria... I know he’s struggling.”

You turn your head and nod, “Okay.”

Rick kisses your forehead and goes to join Sasha, Abraham, Eugene, Aaron, and Carl at the front of the RV, but just as he does, the campervan comes to a sudden halt.

“What’s going on?”

“Enemy close,” Abraham says calmly.

You stand up to look out of the front window to see a group of men with guns standing around a man who is laying on the road who looks as if he’s had a bad beating.

Rick goes to open the door, but pauses and hands you a gun first. “YN, stay here with Maggie. The rest of you are with me.”

You crouch down, trying to keep out of view while watching. It’s hard for you to hear everything that’s being said, but Rick and the other man in charge have a standoff, but surprisingly no bullets are fired.

—

Carl tilts the blinds to look out of the window, watching as Walker stumbles through the field next to the road. He closes the blinds and looks at Aaron, “Why didn’t you stay back and defend the place?”

You were sitting further up the RV at a small table with Eugene trying to help him look for another route to Hilltop from your current position, but you still had a view of the bed your sister was in, including those sitting next to her.

“I owe her,” Aaron answers, looking at Maggie. “Why did you come?”

“I owe them, plus I need to keep Y/N safe.”

You start to grow nervous when Eugene stops mumbling to himself; you’re afraid there is no other route, and the only other options are to return home and hope for the best, or fight with the men from the saviors and hope for the best. But Eugene finally breaks his silence. “I think I’ve got something.”

—

“Do you think you could do it?” Abraham asks as he drives the RV along the new route. It was only the two of you sitting up the front, so you weren’t sure where the conversation was coming from since you’d been sitting in silence.

“Do what?”

“Do what Maggie and Glenn did with Carl?”

You laugh at his words, “I’m too young to think about marriage and babies.”

“I may have agreed with you at one point, but now in this new world?” He sees the expression on your face and chuckles to himself, “I’m not saying you get Gabriel to perform a ceremony the moment we go home, but if what you have is special, then never let it go. No matter how old you are.”

You knew Abraham was just trying to distract you from being upset, but you did appreciate it. “The last thing anybody needs is a drunk behind the wheel.”

“You always had a smart mouth on ya, I was starting to miss hearing your shit talk.”

Growing up the way you did, your mother and father always drilled it into you to be polite, respectful, and never swear, and even during the apocalypse, you were afraid something bad would happen if you did. “My daddy would have said you were a bad influence.”

“That’s funny because Glenn said the exact same thing to me last week.” He clears his throat. “Tell you what? Once this is all done and dusted, I’ll teach you how to drive properly so the next time I’m drunk driving, you can take over.”

“Deal.”

A few more moments of silence pass until Abraham turns the corner and you see another group of men with guns blocking the road, “bitch nuts. Y/N, don’t get too close to the window.”

Everyone gathers to stare at the men; you gulp down. If they decided to attack now, it wouldn’t take long for all of you to be dead. Unless Abraham managed to speed away, then our group would easily be overpowered.

“Do we make a stand?” Sasha asks.

“Yeah,” Carl looks at his dad. “We end it.”

“No, we can’t. This is a trap; the moment we step out of the RV, we are dead.”

“With one of us behind a wheel that’s five on sixteen,” Rick adds. “We’re gonna play it our way, how we want.”

Abraham slowly backs the RV up, and when he doesn't, one of the men starts firing into the sky, causing you to flinch, feeling as scared as you did when the men ambushed you, Daryl, Rosita, and Denise.

You start to feel yourself panic, but a hand reaches out and holds onto your wrist. Carl keeps hold of you until you’re far enough away that the gunshots start to fade into the distance.

—

“Wait, dad, something's not right.”

The saviors were now toying with your group and had set traps up blocking the different roads. They had a row of walkers chained together blocking the road, but it wasn’t until now that you noticed what Carl was so freaked out about.

“Oh my god, that’s Daryl’s.”

One of the walkers had a piece of Michonne attached to the side of its head; the others had clothing that belonged to other members of your group.

Rick goes to stab one of the walkers in the head, but men appear on either side of the road and begin firing at you.

“Everyone into the RV now!”

Carl and Sasha cover Rick while he breaks the blockade of walkers by cutting off their arms, making space for Abraham to drive through. Once you make it back onto the RV, you immediately go to Maggie’s side and notice how much worse she looks.

—

You place your hand on Maggie’s forehead. “She’s burning up.”

“She’s going to make it,” Carl says, trying to reassure you.

“The Saviors are messing with us for fun. They’ve made sure we know they have our people; they aren’t afraid of walkers, but yet they aren’t killing us.” Each time Abraham drove so far up another road, there would be another blockage preventing you from going any further. They even hung a man and set fire to one of the blockades in front of you. “These people aren’t scared of anything.”

Seeing Maggie start to stir, you take hold of her hand. “Hey, it’s fine. It’s going to be okay.”

“I heard gunshots.”

“It was the Saviors, but it’s fine now.”

—

The odds were staking up against you, but Eugene came through with a plan. The saviors were waiting to see the RV appearing on the road, so if you waited until nightfall, you would have a better chance of traveling on foot without being seen while he still drives the RV to make them think your group was still on the road.

“Maggie, we are going to get you to the doctor soon,” you smile. “You and baby will be okay.”

Her skin was pale and sweaty, and you didn’t actually believe what you were saying. You had a feeling something terrible was about to happen.

After making a stretcher out of what you could find in the RV, all of you aside from Eugene start to go through the woods. Maggie, being her stubborn self, insisted she walk to Hilltop, but it wasn’t going to happen. You and Carl take out the walkers that get too close while the remaining four people take a corner of the stretcher.

You’re unsure of how long you’ve been walking for when you notice something shining on the ground. “Wait up,” you whisper, bending down to inspect the familiar jewelry. You pick it up but then quickly toss it, feeling the wetness on it. “Rick, Rick.”

He looks over at you with a panicked look in his eyes. “What is it?”

“We need to go back.” You hold up your hand so he can see the blood on it. “Rosita’s earrings; she was wearing them when she left Alexandria—”

Before you can say anything else, you are cut off by multiple people whistling. This whole thing was a trap, even the way the jewelry was laid out was so easy to find. The Saviors just wanted to torment as many people as they could.

“Go! Go!”

You take off running through the woods until a bright light blinds you, and you’re suddenly surrounded by saviors and different vehicles, making it impossible to run away from them. All of them were whistling.

Holding your gun, you stand with your back to Maggie, prepared to shoot anyone who tries to hurt her.

The man called Simon, who Rick spoke with earlier, appears and points his gun at Carl, ordering all of you to hand over your weapons. This was the first time you’d ever seen Rick look terrified, and that’s how you knew you were screwed.

—

“Y/N,” Carl’s face turns pale as he notices the blood soaking through your shirt.

“I know.”

Between running and being forced down onto your knees by the saviors, the stitches from your stab wound had pulled, and your wound was now bleeding.

“Hey, hey,” Abraham gets your attention. “Show them no goddamn fear.”

You wanted to be brave like them, but you weren’t. You felt completely helpless while you watched them force Maggie onto her knees.

A van door is opened, and Michonne, Rosita, Glenn, and Daryl are dragged from it, then forced onto the ground beside the rest of you. Simon gleefully knocks on the RV door, “Alright, let’s meet the man.”

Through teary eyes, you meet Carl’s gaze. The two of you were on opposite ends of the line-up. You were now kneeling on the ground between Glenn and Rosita.

The door opens, and a dark-haired man with a wide grin walks out, “Pissing our pants yet?”

Satan in a Sunday hat.

“Boy, so I gave a feeling we’re getting close.” The man walks back and forth along the line, sizing everyone up while holding a wooden basketball bat that had barbed wire wrapped around it. “It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one you pricks is the leader?”

“It’s this one,” Simon points to Rick. “He’s the guy.”

The man sighs, “Hi, you’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes.”

You silently start to pray again, taking hold of the small silver cross between your fingers.

“You see, stick to whatever you do; no matter what, you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this: And it’s really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it. Are you ready? Here goes, pay attention.” He points his bat in Rick's face, “Give me your shit, or I will kill you. Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit; you give it to me. That’s your job.”

While Negan continues to taunt your group, your eyes move along every single person who you know is considered family. Everyone was crying and shaking aside from Abraham and Carl.

Negan keeps repeating that he wants half your group's supplies, but that wouldn’t be enough.

“So if someone knocks on your door, you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. Understand?” Negan mockingly puts his hand up to his ear, “What, no answer?”

Negan reminds you of the governor.

“You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now did you?” Negan shakes his head. “I don’t wanna kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me.”

Just like the governor wanted you all the live together at one point.

“You can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden, but you killed my people—a whole damn lot of them. More than I’m comfortable with. And for that—for that you’re going to pay.”

An eye for an eye.

“So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.”

The crazy bastard introduces his baseball bat as Lucille, Negan is crazy. He stands in front of Abraham and seems amused when Abraham holds his gaze and rises up on his knees. Chucking Negan moves down the line and points at Carl, “You had one of our guns.”

Carl says nothing.

Negan crouches in front of him. “You got a lot of our guns. Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little.”

He starts to walk back up the line and stops in front of Maggie. “Jesus, you look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery.”

The second Negan lifts the bat up, both you and Glenn yell for him to stop. Glenn tries to reach Maggie but is pinned down to the ground by a savior.

“Nope. Nope, get him back in line,” Negan says, sounding like an unimpressed parent. “Don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First ones free; it’s an emotional moment; I get it.”

You press your palm against your side in a poor attempt to stop it hurting so much, which Negan notices. He laughs, “Jesus Rick, you could have at least made it harder for me. Half your camp looks as if it’s dying off already.”

You want to cry but don’t allow yourself to, not anymore. Giving Negan the satisfaction would be more painful than the wound itself. He points to your side with his bad, “What the hell happened to you?”

“One of your men stabbed me.”

“One of my men stabbed you? A kid?” He kneels down with a smirk on his face. “So you know I have men that can and will fight for me. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me you have men who take the easy option and stab a little girl rather than actually putting up a real fight.”

His smile disappears. Negan just stares at you for a few moments until he suddenly stands and looks back over at Carl, who was glaring at him. “I’ve been trying to put two and two together, but I think I now get it; this is your little girlfriend.” He turns back to look at Rick, “And this must be your kid; you have a similar evil eye.”

“That’s enough!”

“Do not make me kill the little future serial killer; don’t make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody, and everybody is at the table waiting for their order.”

Negan starts whistling while trying to decide who to kill.

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable Part 4 (Steddie X You)

Warning with some notes: Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie & Young (Early 20s) Fem college student Y/N; Dom/Sub dynamics, SMUT, steddie get intimate, degrading (little boy, slut, etc), light choking and spanking, dirty talk, FLUFF, Y/N talks about Olivia.

ANGST *breathes it in like coffee*, Starts where the last chapter ended, father threatens all three, reader is smacked and threatened to never see them again, mentions of an arranged marriage, boys touch on their lives in prison and how they cope, some toxic behavior from the boys in regards to keeping the reader safe, guys are hurt and blood is mentioned, mentions of a rough birth but no real details are given (they're both fine <3), SLIGHT cliffhanger ending.

Word Count: 5474

Series here/Donate to me <3

“Here’s what’s going to happen.”, your father commands as he continues to glare their way. “You will stop speaking and all communications end today. If I catch even a single letter being sent her way, I will make you regret it. Am I being clear, boys?”

“We love her.”, Eddie answered causing your dad to roll his eyes as he rose to his feet.

“It seems what I’m saying isn’t sinking in.” Grabbing the metalhead’s hair, he roughly pressed his face down into the steel table making him grunt in pain as Steve pulled at his handcuffs to try and help to no avail. “All of that ends today. You will never see my daughter again or that baby. It’s my job to protect her and I’m not going to let you murder her like you did those other kids.”

“Dad, please.”, you beg. “I love them to.”

Your dad snickers slightly as he lets Eddie go before leaning against the wall and folding his arms. 

“Say your goodbyes now and just so you know she will be taken care of. Derek and I talked about it and after HIS baby is born, they will both get married and live happily ever after. Amen.”

Their eyes flick to you as the tears begin to flow again and you reach for their hands.

“I didn’t agree to that, I fucking swear. I love you both so much and I’ll always be here. I promise—” Tugging at your bicep, your father lifts you from your seat as you continue to try and cling to them. “NO! Dad, please! DON’T DO THIS!”

Guards come in to uncuff the boys as your dragged out of the room and into the hallway. Hearing your screams and pleading, awakes something primal in them both and all they can think about is getting to you. 

Steve elbows a guard in the face and shoves another out of the way as he runs down the hall but before he can reach you is tackled to the ground followed by Eddie who only got as far as outside the doorway. Feeling the same, you hit your dad’s chest hard enough for him to release you and you slide to the floor to be by their side. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Using all of his strength, one of Steve’s arms was freed and he reached out to pinch your cheeks, bringing your lips to his. 

“This isn’t over, honey. I promise. We’ll get to you.”

Eddie was able to wiggle out of the officers hold enough to wrap his arm around your neck and kiss your lips as well. 

“We love you, baby. Everything’s going to be ok.”

You began to sob harder when they were hit with something hard as you were lifted off the ground and carried out to your dad’s car. 

***

 As your father begins to drive away, you scream and kick at things in his truck until he pulls over to the side of the road. 

“Calm down right now and you listen to me, Y/N! I will not be the fucking embarrassment of this town. Do you fucking hear me?”

“You already crossed that bridge when you cheated on mom with the town slut in the back of your cruiser. I guess fucking criminals runs in the family.”, you spit. 

The sound of his palm hitting your cheek and your gasp that followed silenced you as you glared past him out the driver’s side window. 

“Listen to me and you listen good. You will stay away from those men or so help me God, Y/N, I will make sure they stay in there for the rest of their Goddamn lives. Do I make myself clear?” When you don’t answer he shouts, making you jump as he repeats his question. 

“Yes, sir.”, you grumble through gritted teeth. 

“You will marry Derek before the baby is born and then we will go back to all our normal routines like one big happy family.”

Folding your arms, you turn to lay your head against the glass as you continue to cry. 

####################

June 3rd, 1998

Steve’s nose scrunches in anger as he punches the boxing bag they keep in the gym of the prison. As he glances towards his friend, Eddie’s eyebrows raise in amusement. 

“Fuck off, Munson. Don’t give me that look.”

“I’m not looking at you in anyway, Harrington. I’m just…a little worried.”

“I know but what can we do trapped behind this fucking concrete wall.”, he grunts as he continues punching. 

“I meant I’m worried about you.”

Steve’s chest puffs out as he wipes the sweat from his forehead, ignoring his friend as he continues what he was doing. Abruptly, the metalhead takes hold of his arm and pulls him into the bathroom nearby. 

“You have to calm down.”, Eddie scolds.

“How the fuck can I be calm! It’s been a month with no word. No phone calls, letters, nothing. What if something happens to her or Olivia?!”

It was an automatic reaction, something both of them had done a few times over the years and more to calm the other. Taking ahold of Steve’s cheeks Eddie crashed his lips to his own, his fingers tangling in his hair before both men are panting as they rest their forehead against each other’s. 

“You think this doesn’t kill me to? But what can we do, Steve? We don’t have enough money to buy another night out.”

“We have enough to get to Canada.”

The metalhead’s eyes widen as he searches through his friends to see if he’s serious. 

“I thought we wanted to do this right? What life would she have?”, he whispers.

“What life would she have married to fucking Derek with her dad breathing down her neck?”

“Steve…I don’t know...”

“Munson! Harrington! Your lawyer is here to see you.”, a guard called sharply making them jump before quickly exiting the room. 

***

“Um, Bobby, where are we going?”, Eddie asks as they pass the interrogation rooms they usually meet with their lawyer in. 

The guard doesn’t say a word as he continues to lead them further down the hall and outside to a separate building they had never been to before. Both men brace, preparing for anything especially after the last few months they had before the man stops just outside of a cellblock door. 

It looked like every other one except this one had no window so people could peak in. 

“You have three hours to go over your case and anything else you may need.”, Bobby relays, looking around as he leans in to unhook their cuffs. “I told you guys I’m on your side. Three hours. Not one second longer.”

Their eyebrows furrowed as he opened the door but all confusion and worry evaporated when their eyes landed on you. 

Before you could say anything, you started to sob as you ran forward with Steve meeting you halfway as your arms wrapped around him. 

“I don’t…how…how are you here right now?”

“I had to come make sure you were ok.”, you hiccupped as you hugged Eddie next. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to you but my dad’s been a tyrant.”

Tilting you head back, the metalhead cupped your face as his thumbs tried to dry your eyes.

“He threatened to hurt you or keep you both in here longer and I was so scared.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about that now. As long as nobody’s hurting you.” Ignoring him, you took hold of his thumb to bend his hand so you can place tender kisses on his palm. “Nobody’s hurting you right?”

Again, you didn’t answer and this time Steve intervened as he lightly but firmly gripped your jaw making you sigh.

“After we left you, my dad got mad when I told him he couldn’t stop me from loving you. Since then, his friends have been keeping an eye on me. Following me to school or back to my house. When I do my homework, sometimes they’ll show up to dig through my work to make sure I’m not writing you.”, you explain as you wipe your eyes and back away towards the bed. 

“My mom came down and tried to intervene but that didn’t go well. They fought and she couldn’t take it anymore so she went home. She offered to take me with her but I told her I couldn’t leave you.”

“Have you lost your mind?”, Steve scolded in a firm tone that had you sitting up straighter. “Take her offer and get out of here. You’d be safer and happier with her!”

Your anger fueled eyes glare his way. 

“I would NOT be happier. I would be just as miserable if not more because you wouldn’t be there!”

“We still won’t be there, sweetheart.”, Eddie sighs as he sits beside you and rubs your back. “We still have another 13years here but at least with your mom you could call and write.”

“No…no. Everyone else has abandoned you but I won’t.”, you declare making them swoon as he leans over kiss your cheek and Steve kneels in front of you taking your hands. 

When he rests his head against your stomach, he feels a little push causing him to jerk back as you giggle. 

“Yeah, she moves quite a bit now.” Taking both their hands, you place them where you felt her move and on cue she kicks her little feet against them. 

“Wow…”, Eddie breathes as his thumb rubs your skin. “Probably has a lot to say about all this. Don’t you, princess?”

Reaching into your bag, you hand them your new ultrasound and a big grin spreads across their faces as they take her in. 

“You see she has her little nose and these cute tiny hands.”, you beam as you point to things on the image. “Your, um, your uncle gave me a cassette of your band playing songs and Olivia just loves it. She wiggles around.”

The metalhead softly smiles your way before you both watch him stand and face the wall away from you. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m, um, I’m ok. I just need a minute.”, he chokes out causing you to rise and wrap your arms around him as you lean your head on his back. “I hate all this bullshit. We shouldn’t even be here! We did nothing wrong!”

You squeezed him tighter wishing you could take away his pain. This was the first time you were seeing this type of break but for Steve it was nothing new. They could hold things in pretty well until they couldn’t and that animosity would spill out, sometimes aggressively. 

“How can I help?”, you whisper.

“You can’t, Y/N. Not in your condition.”

“I’m pregnant, Steve, not broken.”, you giggle making both him chuckle with you. 

“Naw, baby girl, we know but sometimes in here our outlet is a bit different than what we did with you out there.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re a smart girl. Do you really need it spelled out?!”, Eddie snapped startling you as you let him go.

His dark eyes locked with yours and you could feel the other man’s practically boring into your skull as they waited for you to get to the realization on your own. 

“Oh.”, you squeaked in a little voice that had their heads tilting. “Is it…do you like it? I mean is it consensual?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

“Hey.”, Steve growled towards his friend who exhaled through his nose as he looked away. “Yes, it’s consensual. We would never do anything to genuinely hurt the other. Like with you we have safe words and everything.”

“Is it intimacy or survival?”, you murmur, your tone getting smaller and smaller; you were dropping. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?! So you can decide if you still love us or not?!”

The other man rose to his feet and suddenly took hold of Eddie’s throat. 

“Don’t talk to her that way. She’s trying to understand. Right, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love you either way. I just want to know more. You never made any indication that—”

“We didn’t know if we could trust you.”, Steve responded before Eddie could. “It started as survival…needing someone to hold in the middle of the night when the lights go out. Needing to feel safe in a place that’s anything but. You touch yourself needing that release but after a while you want…NEED more.”

“People would make it into something it’s not.”, Eddie added. “Something dirty like the only reason we do this is because we’re in prison. It may be the reason it started but… us being rough with each other… it’s hard to explain and to be honest I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to.”, you coo as you press up to kiss his lips. “Do you want me to give you some alone time? If this is between you two I don’t want to intrude.”

The metalhead’s hair lightly swats at his face as he shakes his head. 

“What do you need from me, Sir?”

“I want you to watch.”

Nodding, you kiss him again before turning to do the same with Steve and waddling to a chair next to the bed. After smiling comfortingly your way, he turns his body to face his friend. 

“Soft, rough or rough, rough?” 

“Both, I think.”

“Ok, baby. Use me.”, the pretty boy smirks as he sarcastically takes a bow with his arms wide open. 

Gripping his cheeks, Eddie crashes their lips together and a little sigh leaves your own as you watch them mingle together. When Steve’s arms came back down, they wrapped around the other boy’s waist, lifting him off his feet to walk with him towards the bed. After pushing the metalhead onto the mattress, Steve yanks off the man’s sweats and underwear before taking his cock in his hand and taking him into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Steven.”, Eddie groaned as he moved the boy’s hair away from his face to watch him. “All the way down. I know you can fuckin’ take it.”

At the sound of his light gags, the metalhead tightened his grip in his soft locks and guided his head lower to take him deeper. 

“That’s it. Choke on it. Choke on my dick, dirty boy.” Chocolate eyes flick to you as he notices you squirm in your seat and place your hands between your legs hoping to ease the ache. “You like this, Y/N? Watching him struggle to take all of me down his tight little throat?”

“Y-Yes, Sir. Does he feel good?”

“Jesus, you’re asking a lot of stupid fucking questions today. You’ve felt his mouth, you know how amazing it is.”

“I…I didn’t.” Eddie blinks as he tugs on Steve’s head, allowing him to catch his breath. “I only felt your tongue that night.”

“We’re going to correct that right now. Come here, baby.” With his arm steadying you behind your back, you removed your pants and kicked them to the side. “Go ahead and rest your back against the pillows.”, he instructed and you followed as you watched him pull Steve to his feet to undress him. 

Falling onto the mattress, Steve slithered on his stomach between your legs and his palms gripped your thighs. 

“Fuck, you smell so good.”, the man whimpered breathily as he pressed his nose to the cloth against your core. “Tell us if you need stop at any point, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy.”

Moving your panties to the side, his tongue pressed against your clit and a cry caught in your throat as the width of it seemed to envelope you.

“Oh my g—“, you moan as he licked between your folds in long, slow strokes that had your eyes roll shut as your fingers run through his hair much softer than the other man’s. Steve hums against you and the vibration has your eyes searching for the cause, landing on Eddie pushing two of his digits inside of the boy in front of him. 

“I told you, sweetheart. His mouth is fucking heaven especially in this hell.” When Eddie grumbles his last sentence, his hand comes down hard on Steve’s ass making him grunt and flick his tongue faster against your nub.  “Come on, dirty boy. Make our girl cum. Make her cum so I can fuck you like the slut you are.”

His fingers dug into your skin as the obscene sound of slurping filled the room till you shuddered and came against his tongue. Eddie spanked him again as Steve pushed up onto one of his palms while his other rested above your mound as his thumb rubbed slow circles against your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes continuously took in the little features on his face as the metalhead spit directly into his hole and gradually slid his cock into his entrance. Steve licked his lips as his head fell but you quickly grabbed his chin to lift it back up. 

“You…you look so handsome like this, Daddy.”

“Fuck.”, he mewled as Eddie took hold of his waist and thrust his hips. 

He seemed almost lost in what he was doing as he roughly pounded into him with each grunt that fell from the pretty boy’s mouth bordering the line between pleasure and pain with your gentle caresses a stark contrast. 

In the middle of everything, Steve’s eyes abruptly snapped open and you saw that primal look you had seen in them both when your dad was pulling you away from them. Gripping your thighs again, he pushed them open flat against the bed and lobbed a huge glob of spit into your cunt before pumping two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. 

Your own eyes closed until you gasped at the feeling of a tongue against your clit immediately recognizing it wasn’t Steve but Eddie. Laying his chest onto the man’s back, he leaned his head against his shoulder as his mouth played with you.

“Fuck…I’ll never get over how…sweet she is. Don’t…Don’t stop fingering her, Steven! Or I swear to God.”, the metalhead growled through gritted teeth. “Make her cum again, little boy. That’s it…thrust those fingers so fucking deep. Shit—you’re just as tight as her.”

“More.”, you begged and Eddie obliged as he fell into you again to flick your nub with his tongue as he rolled his cock into the man beneath him. “I’m…”

As the ball dropped and they helped you through your orgasm, Steve offered his digits to his friend who eagerly licked them clean. Pushing back onto his knees, he chased their highs as you limply slid your body under the pretty boy and he rested his face in the nook of your neck. 

“How does he feel, Daddy?”

“Mmph—good.” Your lips delicately kissed his until you felt his face scrunch as his sweaty forehead fell against your skin. “Fuck, baby.”

At his shaky breath, one of his hands reached down to stroke his cock till you felt his release land on your thigh. Eddie’s palm took hold of the man’s throat as he pulled him closer to his chest and kissed him much softer than he had been. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much…for everything…sweetheart. Mmugh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Steve nodded and as he clung his arms around him, the metalhead grunted as he pounded his release into the boy beneath him. 

Their heavy pants filled the room as they stayed like that and you waited patiently for them to collect their bearings. 

Steve was the one to move first, crawling forward, and collecting you in his arms as his head hit the pillow. Eddie silently went to work cleaning his friend and then you before laying down in front of you so he could take your hand in his. 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to show me that. If you ever want to be intimate in front of me or without me…I don’t mind.”

The metalhead’s palm gently pets your head as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. When your eyes meet his, you notice a deep pain within them that breaks your heart. 

“We don’t really think too much about it but I do know that when I hear him cry at night I feel so helpless. When I hold him and kiss him, it makes me feel safe to. Like I have some control, you know?”

“Have you considered thinking about it?”

The metalhead knew what you meant, nodding as his fingers caressed your cheek. 

“We can’t in here. People exploit that.”

“Do they exploit that when it comes to me?”

“No…probably because they know we would fucking kill anyone that came after you or hurt you.”

His beautiful eyes darkened and Steve pushes up on his elbow to glance over your face. 

“Anyone?”

“Anyone, sweetheart. Any convict. Any Ex. Any…tyrant.”

You should be afraid…but you’re not.

You should be disgusted that they would kill someone for you…but you weren’t. 

You should hate men like them…but you didn’t.

Shaking your head, you curl yourself closer into the Steve’s chest as your arms reached for Eddie who scooted as close to your body as he could. 

“We’d never hurt you, Y/N. I hope you know that.”, the pretty boy whispered as he kissed your shoulder. 

“Or anyone else, unless you felt unsafe or in danger.”

A light knock doesn’t stir any of you as you continue to stare into those chocolate eyes in front of you. 

“Do you feel unsafe?”

“15 more minutes, guys.”, the guard informed you without opening the door. 

“No, Sir.”

“Do you trust us to protect you if you were in danger?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

It takes a couple more moments but when their eyes do finally soften, they lean in to hug you tightly and kiss your lips. 

##########################

June 14th, 1998

“Munson! Harrington! Ya’ll have a visitor!”

Both men exchange a glance as they stand up from their beds and allow the guard to lead them towards the integration rooms. 

“She wouldn’t come this soon right?”, Steve whispered. 

“I don’t think so.”

The person leading them tugged their chain, signaling them to be quiet before heading outside to where they had yard time during the afternoons. Right now, it was pitch black as they had begun getting ready for bed for the evening but they didn’t think anything out of the ordinary until they were pulled into the weight room and were met with a couple of fists to their faces. 

“You know, you both are stubborn just like Y/N.”, your dad sasses as he stands up from the bench he had been waiting on. “I see why she likes you.”

A few of the guards pull both boys up to their knees and turn them to face him. 

“She’s not as crafty as she thinks she is. She did slip away for a while but one of my officers did catch her leaving this facility so—”

“If you hurt her—” Another fist interrupts, Eddie as he grunts and spits blood onto the floor. 

“Who let her in? Which guard is it?”

The fuck you that Steve answers with didn’t help the situation as he was kicked in the stomach hard and toppled over. 

“You know, she may hate me but one day she will thank me. She may think you’re innocent but I’ve seen what you did; the pain you inflicted on those people. I will not let my daughter die because of some stupid crush.”

“So you’d force her to be with someone she doesn’t like?”, the metalhead growled before being hit again. 

“If it keeps her alive and me respected than yes.”

A snarky, deep laugh left Steve’s lips as his head tilted back to stare at your father.

“That’s what it really is, isn’t it? You don’t give a fuck about her. All that matters is image and how you look. Oh, I know all about that being a Harrington.”

Your dad stepped forward and reached out to pull the man’s hair causing him to wince slightly as his jaw clenched. 

“There he is. I was wondering when I’d meet the serial killers and not the ‘poor me’ image you display for the world. Has Y/N seen this side of you yet?”

“Outside or in the bedroom?”

Steve was punched much harder than before making Eddie snicker hoping to distract them.

“She hasn’t and she never will until you give us a reason to.”

“Don’t you mean unless?”

“That’s up to you.”

A little hm noise left your dad’s mouth as he smiled and stepped away. 

“Y/N had her baby a couple of days ago.” Both their eyes snapped his way as his grin grew. “She named her Olivia Y/L/N. She wanted to give her your last names but I forbade it. I was going to put Derek’s last name but…I figured I’d give her this especially after the birth.”

“Are they ok—ugh!”

“Oh, Mr. Munson, what happened? Not so sarcastic now are we? Here’s what’s going to happen. Since my daughter disobeyed, you will be punished. I’m thinking for Mr. Munson here, Indianapolis. That’s where your father is right? And Mr. Harrington how about Washington? I think that’s far enough away.”

At the sound of both men’s shouts his way, your father smirked as he headed out the door. 

“Enjoy your last night together, gentlemen.”

***

Monitors continually to beep as your eyes fluttered open.  You were still incredibly exhausted after rushing to the hospital and being in labor for as long as you were before Olivia decided to grace the world with her presence.

Olivia.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t move. What do you need?”, Derek asked as you began to sit up. He sighed when you ignored him to reach for the crib and touch your daughter’s cheek to make sure she was ok. “The doctor said you should rest and take these…”

As he reached his hand out to give you some pills, you swatted them away across the room. 

“Y/N, I’m trying to help.”

“Fuck you.”

Exhaling, he took a seat by the foot of your bed and you immediately curled into yourself so he wouldn’t touch you.

“I didn’t know what to do. Your dad said if I did this he could help my family. We are in so much debt and my mom is about to go bankrupt. I could get kicked out of school and my family could lose their house—”

“So you agreed to settle down and ruin my life, you selfish asshole.”

“I’M selfish!?”, he hissed. “You brought an innocent baby into this world who has no idea her father is fucking murderer. And what, you were just going to raise her by yourself till she was 13 in a town where she will be ostracized?! She deserves better.”

“Fuck you. You are NOT Olivia’s father.”, you growl.

Derek’s eyes darken in anger as he rises to his feet. 

“Whether you like it or not I am now and next week you’re going to be my wife so it’s time you start accepting that fact. You did…once.”

As soon as he leaves, you lay your head back and sob. A part of you knew he was right; that Olivia deserved better but she deserved Eddie and Steve. Two men who loved her and you and shouldn’t have been placed in the position they were in. 

The sound of the baby cooing grabbed your attention but as you shifted in bed a palm roughly covered your mouth. Your wide, fearful eyes locked with Eddie’s as he slowly placed his finger over his month and gestured towards the door where you saw Steve waiting.

Rapidly taking them in, they both had cuts and bruises on their face that looked fresh. The metalhead himself had a pool of blood on his shirt and when you reached out to touch it, it was wet and he didn’t flinch. 

It wasn’t his.

Olivia whined again as both your eyes fleeted in that direction. 

“Miss Y/N?”, one of the officer’s asked from down the hall. “Baby is making noise.”

“Shhhhhhh!”, a nurse loudly calls towards him making him huff. 

“How is girl going to be a mom when she sleeps through a baby crying—”

As the man stepped into the room, Steve wrapped his arm around his neck in chokehold till the man stopped struggling and slumped to the floor. 

“Are you both ok?”, Eddie whispers as he lifts his palm while you watch his friend begin to remove the cop’s uniform. “Y/N, look at me, baby.”

“Wha-Wha-What’s happening?”

“We don’t really have time to explain right now but we can after we start getting where we are going. Can you move?”

As Steve put on the jacket, he tucked the gun into his pants and continued to search for something but for what you weren’t sure. 

“Y/N!”, Eddie growls in a low rumble that makes you jump before he exhales trying to control his temper. “Sweetheart, we don’t have a lot of time for this. Do you want to come with us or not?”

“I-I-I can walk but—but not fast. I need medication.”

The other boy grabs your chart and flashes it towards his friend who nods. 

“Does Olivia need anything from the doctor?” 

When you shake your head, Steve abruptly kneels in front of you and slides some scrub pants along your legs. 

“What happened to your faces?”

“Ok, honey, I’m going to carry you and Ed’s going to get the baby. Ready?”

“Answer one of my—!”

This time the pretty boy’s palm silenced you when you raised your voice, his own angry irises glaring into yours. 

“You have to be quiet, Y/N.”, he grunts in annoyance before sighing and moving his hand to caress your cheek. “Your father caught you leaving the prison.”

That’s all you needed to hear as it suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe and the machines around you began to beep. 

Leaning his forehead on yours, he began to inhale and exhale with you, guiding you as you felt Eddie kiss your temple. 

“Miss Y/L/N? Everything ok?”, the intercom cackled. 

“Um, yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just had…had a nightmare.”

“Do you need something to help you go back to sleep?”

“No, ma’am. I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

The three of you wait and Steve hands his friend the scrubs he found as he gently lifts you off the bed to place you in a chair nearby. You watch as he grabs the officer and nervously takes off everything attached to you before hooking it to the unconscious man. When the monitors continue to beep steadily, he grins. 

“Oh, I know, princess, I know. Daddy’s got you.”, Eddie murmurs softly as he lifts the baby into his arms. 

As you try to stand, the world spins and you fall back down right as Steve catches your wrist.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just…just need to sleep…”

Nodding, Steve pushes the cap down on his head and blocks as much of his eyes as he can while Eddie puts a face mask over his mouth. Pointing towards the wheelchair, he hastily puts you into it and begins exiting the room. 

“Are there any other officers you’re aware of around here, Y/N?”, he whispers.

“I don’t know…but I’ve…only ever seen one.”

“Excuse me.”, the nurse calls. “Where are you taking her?”

“I, uh…”

“I wanted to get some…air. Is…that ok?! I know my father has me…fucking shackled here but I can still move around! I’m bringing this asshole…is that…ok?!”, you shouted as best you could. 

The lady eyes you up and down before standing to head to a cart next to her. 

“Take this before you go. The last thing we need is you getting an infection or something. And don’t be out there with that little one too long. She needs to rest to.”, she instructs as she hands you a cup of water to swallow your pill. 

“How much more rest does she need?”, Steve asks, absently gesturing your way while trying to hide his genuine concern. 

“She’ll be ready physically within the next couple of days and you guys hounding me constantly about that won’t heal her any faster! Jesus.”

Rolling his eyes, he continues forward to the elevator and all three of you exhale a sigh of relief as the doors close around you. 

“Do you think you can hold her, Y/N?”

“Where are you going?”, Eddie asks as he gently hands you Olivia. 

“I’m going to run to the third floor to grab her meds. Find us a car and I’ll meet you out front.”

###############

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @micheledawn1975 @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @noooah @baileebear @dashingdeb16 @nailbatanddungeon @rockmusiciscalming12 @mikeyswifie @poofyloofy @eddiexmunsonlover @dreamliners @munsonmoonshine86 @bexreadstoomuch @kitkat80 @myherometalhead @hardladyheart @sheisjoeschateau @chelebelletx

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Things will get WILD from now on because I'm gonna change EVERY SINGLE THING I dislike in that series and I WILL SHORT THIS THING UP

I love my baby fae girl pls send help to her

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, Tamlin is trash, not 100% book following, a bigger level of degradation (not on the good side), Amarantha 🤢, Rhysand 🥵

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 4: Heavy Is The Crown

The days after Calanmai were tense. Tamlin barely spoke. Lucien walked around like he was waiting for the next disaster to strike. Feyre pretended not to notice, but you did. You noticed everything. Especially the way Tamlin's gaze would linger on Feyre when he thought no one was watching. The way Lucien shot him warning looks everytime a different sound was heard in the forest. The way the manor seemed heavier, as if the magic itself was pressing down harder.

You knew what was coming before he even summoned the two of you.

Tamlin stood by the window in his study, back turned, hands clasped behind him. The light filtering through the glass cast him half in shadow. The scene was fitting, for the cowardice about to leave his mouth.

"You'll leave tomorrow morning," he said, voice flat.

Feyre blinked, stiffening beside you. "What?"

"You'll go back to the human lands. Both of you." He still didn't turn around. "It's not safe here anymore. Not with him knowing you're here."

Rhysand.

Feyre's brows pulled together. "But... why would that matter?"

Tamlin's shoulders tensed. You could practically feel the lie forming on his tongue. His fae blood stopped him from telling a lie but it never meant he couldn't run away from answering.

"Because I said so. He is dangerous, and I don't wanna know what his next move is if I keep any of you here." Your nails dug into your palms. Coward.

Feyre stepped forward, frustration bleeding into her voice. "Tamlin—"

"I wished we could have had more time together." That was all he said. Final. Dismissive. As if the conversation was over.

Feyre's mouth opened, then closed, confusion flickering in her eyes. You stared at Tamlin's broad back, your pulse a steady thrum in your ears. He wouldn't tell her. He was breaking his time in half and still wouldn't say why he kept Feyre here, why he made her fall in love with him and why Lucien always seemed so terrified.

You would.

☆

The next morning, the carriage waited by the doors of the manor. Feyre sat stiffly beside you, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She hadn't said a word since you'd left the house. You could feel the storm brewing beneath her silence, all the questions piling up, all the things left unsaid. She deserved the truth.

She deserved to know. The curse had shackled your tongue for weeks. Every time you'd even tried to hint at it, your throat had closed up, the words dissolving on your tongue.

But now Tamlin has given you only one gift. Now you are leaving. The curse had never said what would happen if you broke it outside the Spring Court. You glanced at Feyre, then at the woods passing by through the window.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Do it. The carriage rattled down the dirt road, farther and farther from the manor. Time was running out. You gritted your teeth, reaching for the small knife hidden beneath your cloak. Without another thought, you banged the handle against the roof.

"Stop the carriage." The horses whinnied. The whole thing jerked to a halt.

Feyre's head snapped toward you. "What are you doing?"

You didn't answer. You shoved the door open and jumped down into the dirt, breathing hard. Be damned this ridiculous yellow dress Tamlin put on you. The driver barely glanced at you, already annoyed.

Feyre climbed out behind you, frowning. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Maybe." You paced a few steps away, your heart in your throat. "I think the time ran out—" You turned back to her, meeting her confused gaze. "So now I can explain it to you."

Feyre's brows pulled together. "Explain what?"

Your mouth opened... and the words spilled out. "Amarantha." Feyre only blinked. You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "She's not just some faerie in the North. She's a monster. She's had Prythian by the throat for nearly fifty years, and Tamlin, Lucien... everyone that lives in the Spring Court... they're trapped under her rule. The other High Lords, they're all prisoners too. And there is Rhysand." You spat the word. "Whispers say he's on her side, he's her whore and her weapon. That's why the two bananas were so afraid of him." Feyre's face paled, but you kept going. "Tamlin was given one chance to break the curse. One loophole. He had to make a human girl fall in love with him, a girl who hated faeries so much to the point of killing one. And she had to tell him she loved him... without ever knowing why."

Feyre staggered back a step. "What—?"

You ran a shaking hand through your hair. "They couldn't tell you. And technically they couldn't tell me either. The curse wouldn't break if the human knew the truth. That's why none of us ever said a word."

Feyre's lips parted, horror dawning in her eyes.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. "They've been playing this game for almost fifty years, Feyre. And now Rhysand knows you're there. And if he tells Amarantha..."

You didn't need to finish. Feyre's face crumpled. “But I gave him a fake name…”

“Which name?” You tried to keep your voice from spilling pure horror at the thought.

“Clare Beddor.” She said in a voice smaller than usual. Fearing your reaction, apparently.

“Our neighbor?” You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to keep going. “Doesn't really matter, if Tamlin went there and gave himself out, Clare and possibly her family are already far away from being alive." Your cousin's eyes would have jumped out of her skull if it wasn't glued there. "Tamlin sent us away because he'd rather break this whole Court than let himself suffer from your loss. That's the kind of idiot he is."

A long silence stretched between you. Feyre's breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could physically feel the weight of the truth settling there.

"But..." Her voice broke. "He didn't even try to explain—"

"Because he couldn't," you snapped, harsher than you'd meant. "He wanted you to hate him for sending us away. So you wouldn't want to come back. It was easier that way."

Feyre's eyes shimmered. Your chest ached.

You reached out, gripping her arms tightly. "But now you know. And you have a choice." Her breath trembled beneath your hands. "You can go home," you said quietly. "You can forget all of this. Or we can go back."

Her eyes snapped to yours.

"And we can fight."

Feyre stared at you — really stared. And then, slowly... She nodded. You let out a breath, your heart slamming against your ribs. The carriage driver was still waiting. You glanced over your shoulder, then back to Feyre.

"What will it be, cousin?" you murmured. "Are we running? Or are we breaking a curse?"

Feyre straightened her spine. Her eyes hardened. "We're breaking a curse."

A wicked grin curved your lips. "I was hoping you'd say that." You banged on the carriage again. "Turn us around."

The driver blinked, startled.

"You can't—"

"I said turn us around." With one final, wary glance, the driver clicked his tongue, flicking the reins.

The carriage jolted forward. Back toward the manor. Back toward Tamlin. Back toward war.

☆

The carriage creaked as it crossed the gates of the Spring Court. The manor stood in the distance — but everything was different. The gardens that once bloomed with endless colors were now twisted and withered, vines curling like dead fingers around cracked statues. The golden light that always bathed the place was gone, replaced by an eerie grayish hue. Faeries lingered around the grounds — not the few pretty, gentle creatures Feyre had gotten used to, but some sharp-eyed, other hollow-faced beings.

Feyre's breath caught beside you. "It looks... old," she murmured. "Rotten."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. "It always did," you muttered. "You just couldn't see it."

Feyre's head snapped toward you. "You mean—"

"It was enchanted." You climbed out of the carriage, eyes scanning the ruined grounds. "Tamlin kept the glamour up to fool human eyes." You shrugged, moving toward the manor doors. "No matter how much I tried to tell you... you wouldn't have believed me if you couldn't see it yourself."

Feyre stood frozen, her lips parted. "But you saw through it." You paused, glancing at her over your shoulder. "Because you're half-fae, right?"

A bitter smile curved your lips. You pushed open the cracked front door and made your way inside, heading straight for your old bedroom.

"Being the abomination I am sometimes has its advantages."

The air in the room was stale — as if no one had set foot in it since you'd left. You ripped the wardrobe doors open, yanking out your worn hunting leathers. The soft, pastel Spring Court dresses you'd been forced into for weeks hung in neat rows beside them. Feyre hovered by the doorway.

"You're really half-fae?" she asked quietly.

You didn't answer. You just started stripping out of the ridiculous dress, letting the loose fabric pool at your feet. Feyre lingered for a moment longer before shaking her head, muttering under her breath as she crossed to her own room. When she returned a few minutes later, she was dressed in her simple human clothes — plain, practical and ready. You tucked a small dagger into your boot out of habit, but that was the only weapon you'd take. They'd find it anyway. Better to let them think you were weak. Better to let them think Feyre was even weaker.

The carriage wheels rumbled again as it carried you both toward the mountains. Neither of you spoke a lot. You kept your eyes on the road, the looming peaks of the Mountain that was keeping everyone prisoner kept rising higher and higher in the distance.

When the silence became unbearable, Feyre whispered, "What will happen when we get there?"

You didn't look at her. "You'll ask to bargain for Tamlin's freedom. And for the curse to break."

Feyre flinched. "She'll never agree to that."

"Not in normal conditions." Your voice was flat. "But she'll like the entertainment."

Feyre's hands curled into fists on her lap. You sighed, finally glancing at her.

"You need to play the part, Feyre." Your voice softened. "A helpless, stupid little human girl, desperately in love, with nothing to offer but herself. She'll keep you alive for the fun of it if you act like you're no threat."

Feyre's throat bobbed. "And you?"

A corner of your mouth curved upward. "I'll be the distraction."

Her brows furrowed, but you just turned back to the window. Let her wonder.

☆

The closer you got, the heavier the air became. By the time the carriage stopped at the rocky edge of the caves, the very ground seemed to pulse beneath your feet — as if the mountain itself was alive. The driver refused to go any farther.

"Last stop," he grunted, barely sparing you a glance.

You climbed out first, scanning the jagged, looming mouth of the cave ahead. Feyre hesitated behind you.

You glanced at her, eyes narrowing. "Leave the weapons."

Her head whipped toward you. "What?"

"They'll take them anyway." You tossed your dagger into the dirt. "Better to let them think you can't fight at all."

Feyre's mouth opened, then closed. Reluctantly, she pulled the small knife from her belt and threw it down beside yours.

You leaned in close, lowering your voice. "If they ask... you're just a human girl who fell in love with the wrong faerie and now you can't let it go."

Feyre swallowed hard, nodding. The fear in her eyes was a knife in your chest — but there was nothing you could do to spare her from what was coming.

You straightened, brushing the dirt off your hands. "If that little bitch still has the same pets we will meet a very ugly creature, so be prepared. Let's go meet the Attor."

You felt them before you saw them. The scrape of claws on stone. The rank, putrid scent wafting through the cave. Feyre's breath caught as the shadows stirred ahead — and then it emerged. The Attor. All rotting flesh and bat-like wings, its elongated mouth curling into something that might have been a smile.

It sniffed the air, yellow eyes flicking between the two of you. "The human girl... and whatever company she has... another human girl, perhaps." It crooned.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, hoping your fae blood would keep calm inside of you for at least a little while.

You forced your mouth into a slow, lazy smirk. "Wanted to meet us, sweetheart?"

The creature's nostrils flared, but it didn't rise to the bait. It only stepped closer, wings rustling. "And what... Do you bring to our Mistress?"

Feyre's voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to bargain. For Tamlin."

The Attor's head snapped toward her. Its mouth stretched wider. "How sweet."

Its claws twitched at its sides. It was enjoying this. It would enjoy hurting her even more. Rage coiled low in your belly — but you shoved it down. You had to play the part. You had to let them take you.

The chains were cold around your wrists. The Attor's claws dug harder into your arm as it dragged you through the winding tunnels. Feyre stumbled behind you, pale but silent. You didn't look at her. You couldn't. If you saw the fear in her eyes, you'd do something stupid. The mountain swallowed you whole, its endless dark pressing in on all sides. Everything feels like a cheap copy of what you once knew as the Court of Nightmares in Night Court. The recreation almost made you feel sick.

But you didn't have time to think about it that much if Amarantha was waiting. And if you played this game right... You were going to win.

The throne room was just as suffocating as you imagined. Dark stone stretched endlessly beneath your boots, the air heavy with the scent of rot and old magic. Feyre stood stiff beside you, her chin high despite the fear you knew was eating her alive. You kept your expression bored — uninterested — even when your heart hammered in your chest.

Amarantha lounged on her throne, eyes sharp and glittering as she flicked a finger toward the half-burned corpse nailed to the wall. Clare Beddor. Feyre's breath hitched beside you, but you didn't look at her. You couldn't afford to.

"You should have given me your name when I asked for it, girl," Amarantha purred, eyes never leaving Feyre. "But I suppose your little friend paid the price for your foolishness."

Feyre's fists clenched at her sides. You had to resist the urge to reach out, to press her fingers back open before anyone noticed.

Amarantha leaned forward, her red hair spilling over one shoulder. "But you're here now. Ready to bargain for your lover's freedom from what I heard."

Feyre's throat bobbed, but her voice didn't waver. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Amarantha's smile was slow and cruel. "Oh, I know you will."

She sat back again, tapping a long nail against the arm of her throne.

"I could kill you now," she mused. "But where would be the fun in that?" Her sharp eyes flicked between the two of you. "A challenge, then. I will choose how. Three trials, or a riddle. If you survive, I'll let him go."

The room was deathly silent. You kept your breathing steady and kept your heart from hammering louder.

Feyre's voice was barely above a whisper. “You will also free the other High Lords from your curse. Let them regain their powers and free their Courts. Let them judge you of what you've done”

“Now why would I do that?” Her smile was disturbing, the eye in her ring seemed to turn to Feyre, interested in the conversation.

“If you really think I can't win, you shouldn't be afraid of promising it.” The Queen's smile almost faltered from her face, before she flicked a hand in order to say she agreed to the terms. "You also have to promise not to touch or enchant Tamlin until I break the curse. Or until I lose."

Amarantha's smile sharpened. "Fine by me." Her eyes glinted. "I will have all eternity to enjoy him after."

Feyre's jaw clenched — but before she could speak again, you did. "Wait."

Your voice echoed through the throne room — louder than you'd meant to. Every head turned toward you. You raised your hand lazily — the same hand no one had noticed you'd slipped free from the shackles. A few murmurs rippled through the crowd.

You leaned your other hand casually against the cold ground, tilting your head. "This isn't fair."

Amarantha blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I want a High Lord for myself too." A beat of silence. "You know? For motivation?"

Lucien — who'd been doing his best to blend into the shadows — choked on absolutely nothing. Amarantha's brow arched, and her lips curved into something dangerously close to amusement.

"Your willingness to stay alive isn't enough for you?"

"Absolutely not." You shrugged. "I came here after her, with absolutely no reason to save any of the people in this room. For all I care, you could chain Tamlin up and make him lick your shoes for the rest of his miserable life. The girl here—" you pointed lazily to Feyre without even looking at her, "is the one who is in love with him."

Feyre shot you a look like she might strangle you before Amarantha got the chance.

“Honestly, my life in the human lands was so boring that I came here to risk my life for nothing more than entertainment. I don't win anything if I get to survive this, and if I really wanted to just survive, I would've sent Feyre into that cave entry and said goodbye and good luck when I had the chance.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against Feyre's body — still chained up — like you'd just asked for a glass of wine.

"Well, Feyre here has an emotional support High Lord to fight for. What do I get? Lucien?" You glanced toward the red-haired male with mock disappointment. Lucien had the strength to look mildly offended. "It's not the same thing."

A few scattered chuckles echoed through the crowd. And Amarantha laughed — actually laughed — a high, euphoric sound that filled the room.

"Fine." She leaned back on her throne, waving a dismissive hand. "You can choose one of them." A ripple passed through the crowd as every single High Lord in the room shifted. "The High Lords should all rise," Amarantha called sweetly, "so the little girl can choose one of you to fight for."

The silence stretched. One by one, the High Lords stood from their places among the gathered faeries — some sneering, some barely sparing you a glance, some pleading.

Your heart hammered behind your ribs as your eyes flicked over the crowd.

Beron — cruel and uninterested.

Thesan — bored, already looking away.

Helion — shining and watching with a spark of amusement.

Kallias — fear and hope in his breathing .

Tarquin — tears in his eyes as he watched you.

You dragged out the moment, letting your gaze linger long enough to make them nervous. Then your eyes flicked to Amarantha's left — to where he stood. Rhysand. He hadn't moved, hadn't even flinched, had been thinking he wasn't an option. His violet eyes were already fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

Almost like a challenge. A dare. Your mouth curved slowly, eating up his fear.

"I want that one."

The entire room froze.

Rhysand's brows flicked up — the only sign of surprise on his perfectly bored face. Even Amarantha looked taken aback for half a second before she let out another sharp, delighted laugh.

"You want Rhysand?"

Rhysand's mouth curled into a lazy, wicked smile. Amarantha was still grinning, sharp and predatory.

"You want to fight for the whore of the Night Court?" Rhysand's smile didn't falter — but something flickered in his violet eyes.

You tilted your head. "Why not? He looks like he'd be more fun to save."

The room held its breath. Even Feyre was staring at you like you'd lost your mind. But you didn't dare break Rhysand's gaze. Amarantha's grin stretched wider.

"Are the terms the same?" you asked, voice light. "No touching him. No harm. Totally free for the duration of the trials, or after I win."

Amarantha tapped a nail against her chin, pretending to think. "Of course. It doesn't really matter."

You smirked. Rhysand's dark brows flicked upward.

You turned to him, feigning boredom. "Well, darling?" you purred. "Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?"

His smile was razor-sharp. He stepped forward at last, hands tucked behind his back.

"I'm sure I'll find a way to repay the favor… little mouse." A shiver curled down your spine. You didn't let it show.

Amarantha clapped her hands, delighted. "Perfect! Two humans fighting for two High Lords in a challenge they can't win. How absolutely... amusing."

You felt Rhysand's power brush against your mind — just the lightest stroke. “What game are you playing, little girl?”

You locked him out with a flick of your mental shields. “Wouldn't you like to know, High Lord?”

His smile widened — but something dark flickered behind it. He still had no idea who you were. But you could feel the question thrumming beneath his perfect mask. He would figure it out eventually. You just had to survive long enough to make him care.

"You have three trials to win their freedom, one each turn of the moon" Amarantha announced, voice echoing through the throne room. Her eyes gleamed as she looked between you and Feyre. "And if you fail... you will both belong to me. I'll still have to decide if you're useful or not. That is, if you don't die during the challenges."

The shackles snapped back around your wrists. You didn't flinch. Rhysand's smile lingered as the guards dragged you both toward the dungeons. But before you disappeared through the dark archway, his voice whispered through your mind again — silky and amused.

“I'll be waiting right here, little mouse. Is your time to play the hero.” You smirked as the iron doors slammed shut behind you.

☆

The dungeons were colder than you expected. Dank, damp stone stretched endlessly down the corridor, the only light spilling from the faelight sconces flickering along the walls. The guards had shoved you both into different cells, sided with one another — each cell barely big enough for two bodies — before slamming the door shut and leaving you to rot.

Feyre hadn't said a word since they'd dragged you down here. She paced like a caged animal, arms wrapped around herself, face pale under the dirt and grime. You sat on the floor against the wall, knees pulled up, watching her with the calm patience of someone who knew the storm was coming.

It didn't take long.

"What the fuck was that?" Feyre hissed, whirling on you at last.

You raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific, baby girl."

Her nostrils flared. "Don't call me that."

You snorted, having fun with the whole situation.

"Why him?" she snapped, stepping closer. "Of all the High Lords there, why would you choose Rhysand?"

Your smile faded — just a little. Because the truth was — you hadn't exactly meant to. You hadn't planned it. But the second Feyre told Amarantha she couldn't touch Tamlin for as long as this sick game was being played, your mouth had moved before your mind could catch up. As if something deep inside you had been waiting centuries for this moment.

You glanced at the wall, at the crack running along the stone. "I had my reasons."

Feyre let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Your reasons? You picked the most dangerous High Lord in Prythian, Tamlin's biggest enemy, literally the guy who put a head on a spike in the garden for everyone to see and is on Amarantha's side, and now you're tied to him for three trials with Amarantha herself watching. What possible reason could you have?"

You didn't answer. Because how the hell were you supposed to explain something you barely understood yourself?

Feyre's eyes narrowed. "You're doing that face. Thinking face. You know something."

You kept your face blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Feyre lunged forward, grabbing your arm through the bars of the cell. You winced as her nails dug into the bruises already forming beneath the shackles.

"You've been acting weird since we got here. Since before we got here." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "You said you didn't care about the people in this land so why throw yourself in this nightmare with me? Why do this to yourself?”

You glanced at the iron bars — making sure no one was listening — before your eyes flicked back to her.

"You want to know why I picked him?" you murmured. Feyre nodded, breath shallow. You leaned in close — close enough that no one else could hear. "I think he's my mate."

Feyre froze. For a long moment, she just stared at you like you'd grown a second head. Then she laughed — loud and sharp — before clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"You're joking," she whispered through her fingers.

You didn't blink. Her smile faltered.

"You're not joking."

You shifted against the wall, trying to find a position where the shackles didn't dig so hard into your wrists.

"You know what a mating bond is, right?"

"Lucien told me about it once," Feyre muttered. "It's... rare. Almost a myth."

You nodded slowly. "But not impossible."

Her eyes darted to the iron bars again — like someone might overhear. "And you think...?"

"I don't think," you interrupted. "I'm almost sure."

Silence stretched between you. Feyre's breathing was quick, uneven. "You've felt it? The bond? Are you supposed to feel it?"

You swallowed hard. "No. Not... exactly. Not yet."

Her brows pulled together. "But...?"

You stared down at your hands — at the bruised skin already healing beneath the shackles.

"I don't know how to explain it," you admitted. "It's just... something in me knew I had to save him. The second I saw him in Calanmai something inside me called for him. Like I'd been looking for him without even realizing it. That day I thought it was the magic of the rite pulling me to go there, but when he went away the feeling vanished too."

Feyre sank onto the cold floor across from you, her face pale. "And he doesn't know?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "Of course he doesn't. He won't feel it as long as I'm human."

Her brows furrowed. "But why would the Cauldron give you a mate? They are for the most powerful of the species and you're only—"

"Half?" you cut in, voice sharp. Feyre flinched. You looked away. "Yeah. I know."

Silence fell again. Somewhere down the corridor, a prisoner screamed. Feyre hugged her knees to her chest, staring at you like you'd just dropped some ancient, forbidden truth between you.

"So what now?" she whispered.

You leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes. "Now," you said softly, "we survive until she wants to play."

☆

Feyre was quiet for a long time during the next many hours you lost count. When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "You could have picked anyone. Even with the mating bond"

You cracked one eye open. "Yeah."

Her throat bobbed. "But you picked him anyway."

Your lips curved faintly. "I didn't pick him," you murmured. "He was already mine.”

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-blog

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, vomiting, minor injury, confirmation of minor canonical character death

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

The silence inside the truck was so uncomfortable that it teetered on the border of unbearable. Daryl hadn’t spoken a single word, not even when the caravan stopped to discuss forthcoming plans and you were invited to join. He didn’t have to speak. The intense glare that could have burned a hole through Rick’s head said everything his mouth didn’t.

You noticed Jacqui’s absence at once. There was an ache in your chest at her loss. She had been kind to you the few times you had interacted. You didn’t need an explanation. She had perished at the CDC. Whether or not it had been at Jenner’s hand was irrelevant. It had been his intent to trap you all there. In the end, it would still be blood on the doctor’s hands. 

“So, we’re all in agreement? Fort Benning?” The former sheriff met the eyes of everyone as they nodded. “Alright, that’s settled. I think we need to discuss our means of travel. We’ll burn a helluva lot of fuel taking so many vehicles. Any suggestions?”

Looks were exchanged, but Dale spoke up first. “I know the RV is by far the worst on the fuel but it does provide space and a means of shelter beyond what the others do. I’m probably biased but there it is.”

“No, I think as long as we can keep the RV running, it should stay.” Lori agreed with a nod and a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

“Alright, okay.” Rick continued. “That still leaves four others.”

“We can ditch the van. Ride in the RV.” T-Dog offered quickly. 

“I can lose the Jeep and ride with you, Lori, and Carl.” Shane leaned against the vehicle in question and awaited a response. Rick shook his head almost immediately. 

“We’ll take Carol and Sophia, keep the kids together. You can go in the RV.” 

The first emotion that passed over the other officer’s face was sour, you noticed, but swiftly turned into a compliant smile and nod. You narrowed your eyes but held your tongue. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

“M’a take the bike.” Daryl stated matter-of-factly, not even waiting for input before he dropped the tailgate of the truck. “Ya help me with this?” He waved a hand toward the truck bed with a glance at T-Dog.

“That’s good, Daryl. Real good. Lori, Carol, the kids, and I in the Cherokee. Daryl and Y/N on the bike. The rest in–”

“Just me.” The redneck interjected, not looking away from the task of unloading the bike. You didn’t need confirmation to know what he meant. 

“What?” Rick asked anyway.

“She can ride in the RV.” Daryl huffed. Rick raised his eyebrows but ended with shrugging a shoulder and moving on. 

You, however, continued staring at the archer. It wasn’t public knowledge that the baby was Daryl’s. Amidst the panic and confusion at the CDC, no one took notice of the exchanges between the two of you. You assumed he’d like to keep it that way. Assumptions were all you had to go on at the moment because the bastard was refusing to speak to you! Still, if he continued with the very obvious disdain toward you, he was going to give himself away.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You turned to find all other eyes on you. 

“Rick was asking if you’re okay being in the RV.” Lori was tilting her head, watching you with a look you didn’t really like. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine wherever you want me.”

“Probably be more comfortable there.” Carol smiled that gentle smile of hers. “At some point, we’re gonna have to address the elephant in the room.” Shane’s tone was condescending. You curled your lip when he shifted to cross his arms and spit off to the side. His eyes remained on you, flickering down to your stomach and back up. You were starting to get the feeling he didn’t like you much.

Lucky for him, the feeling was mutual. “We’ve got time.” Lori interjected before you could even open your mouth. “One thing at a time. We need to find somewhere safe to stay first. Get off the road.” “She’s right.” Rick started grabbing the fuel cans and hoses to siphon the gas from the vehicles that were being left behind. The rest of the group scattered to move things and automobiles around, leaving you and Shane in a staring match. You wanted to smirk when he looked away first, granting you one last glance before disappearing around the RV.

“Anything I can do to help?” You walked up to the door of the RV as Dale stepped down. He gave you a sweet smile and traipsed out of your way, motioning to the inside. 

“You don’t need to be pulling and tugging at things. You just go on inside.” 

You snorted. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I can help.”

The older man was obviously torn but with a glance toward Andrea, he finally relented. Another story there, you supposed. “Maybe move some of the lighter bags and supplies from the other cars. They may have beat you to it, but that’s really all I know of that would be okay for you.” 

“Okay, I’ll check with Lori.” You smiled at him before he went about with whatever he was doing in preparation to leave. You really did appreciate his concern but you were new to the group. You had to show them that you could be an asset. It wouldn’t do for you to end up on your own with a baby on the way. You made it to the back corner of the RV before you felt eyes searing into the back of your head. Maybe Shane had seen the exchange with Dale. Glancing over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Daryl. This time, it was you who looked away first.

You had chosen to all but hide in the back of the RV, on the bed with a book that Dale had let you borrow. You weren’t really reading as much as you were listening to the exchanges between Andrea and Shane. He was showing her about maintaining a gun. When she mentioned her father, you felt a twinge of pain in your chest. 

The nausea had returned with a vengeance. Sips of water, you could handle with enough time in between. The constant rolling of your gut had you turning away from anything substantial. You knew you should eat. You needed to eat. Maybe when the next stop was made, you could ask about some crackers or something. 

Lost in your head, it wasn’t until you heard Dale’s distressed exclamation that you actually looked up, leaning out to be able to see what was going on from your hovel in the back room. 

“Oh jeez. Aw no. See a way through?” 

You tossed the book to the foot of the bed and swung your legs over the edge to get to your feet. Glenn was suggesting to turn around for a bypass but Dale quickly shot down the idea. 

“We can’t spare the fuel.”

“Jesus.” You whispered when you got your first glimpse of the disastrous cluster of cars and debris. As the RV idled, there was a pop and a white cloud drifted up in front of the windshield. “Shit.” You followed the others out the door, taking in the scene when you heard Daryl’s bike. The hunter weaved through the maze of vehicles and stopped in front of the RV. 

The others discussed options, a conversation you purposefully avoided. They were including you but having a say in things was a totally different matter. You didn’t feel like you were there yet. 

“There’s a whole bunch’a stuff we can find.” Daryl was right. The owners of the abandoned cars didn’t need the things they’d left behind in their panic. Except—not all of them had left. You could clearly see a corpse in the passenger side of a sedan. Was it a walker? Couldn’t be. It would have responded to the noise. 

“This is a graveyard. I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“I’m with Lori. It feels like—grave robbing.” While Lori’s comment went ignored, yours earned a look from Shane that made your skin crawl. He eventually sneered before his expression smoothed out and he gave the order for everyone to go searching. 

You stood still, biting your lip in hesitation. The thought of someone taking your father’s belongings from the camp just because he was dead made you see red. How could you possibly go along with this?

Maybe you could stay behind in the RV. Andrea was there, so it shouldn’t be a problem if—

“Go on.” Daryl gave you a shove you would almost define as gentle. It was the first time he had spoken to you since the CDC. You wanted to retort with something snarky, but what would that do other than piss him off more than he already was. “Grab anythin’ ya think could be useful.”

“Okay.” You kept your tone soft, picking up your pace to catch up to him when he brushed past. “Can we talk?” You really did want to smooth things over. You told yourself that the connection with Daryl was solely physical, but now you’d be raising a child together in an apocalypse. That would definitely be easier if you could communicate on some level at least. 

He never missed a step when he glanced at you while maneuvering between the automobiles. He’d peek in the windows of some but continued further out, probably to keep everyone else closer to your own cars. 

“Nah.” He finally glowered, walking backwards away from you a few steps before turning around and disappearing behind a cargo van. 

Sighing heavily, you took stock of your surroundings. There was no point in following after him. You didn’t have the energy anyway. The nausea was worsening and there was little to no water left in the RV. You allowed for a disgruntled breath, pressed a palm to your belly, and opened the driver door of the nearest car. The sooner everyone got what they needed, the better. 

The smell of the decaying corpse was horrific and forced you to pull things out with one hand while the other pressed over your mouth and nose. Luckily there wasn’t much more than a suitcase that held some men’s clothing. You weren’t sure what the men could use so you left what was there, with the exception of one shirt. Strategically ripping, you fashioned a cover to tie around your face. You’d work faster with both hands. 

After several minutes, you had found a damn treasure trove, including a beautiful knife in a holster that you had taken the liberty of securing around your thigh. It wasn’t a firearm but it was better than nothing. 

You were climbing backwards out of the backseat of a little hatchback when you took a break to steady yourself. You were drenched in sweat and felt a little dizzy. Maybe it was time to gather your findings and go back to the others for a break. You had gone pretty far ahead. 

The silence on the roadway was unnerving. You’d give almost anything for bumper to bumper traffic with an orchestra of angry shouts and sounding horns; for everything to go back like it was. You’d be in the woods at that time of day, tracking rabbits or squirrels. It didn’t take much to feed just you and your father. You didn’t have a smokehouse, so smaller game was ideal. You could still see his proud beam when you’d walk through the door. 

Those days were gone now. 

Back at your pile of finds, it occurred to you that you couldn’t carry it all back alone. Loath as you were to admit it, Daryl had been the closest. You pulled down your makeshift mask with a groan, but there was no other option unless you wanted to walk all the way back to the RV just to bring back help. They would likely demand you stayed put, but you didn’t want them to see you as incapable. Daryl was already annoyed with you, so requesting his assistance was your best bet. 

Your steps were dragging by the time you made it to the cargo van where he had so casually rebuffed your request. Barely around the rear bumper, your stomach decided to rebel. You lurched forward with a repulsive retching sound, stomach muscles cramping from the force of the heaves. Your stomach was empty. Rancid acid and bile burned your throat, the intensity of your gagging ensuring you could be heard all the way at the RV. 

Your stomach still contracted uncomfortably, excess saliva gathering in your mouth. You had just managed to wipe away any remnants on the sleeve of your flannel when a hand clamped down around your jaw. Fight or flight activated, you scrambled for the knife at your thigh, managing a single swipe before a hand caught your wrist. 

“Quiet, goddamnit!” Daryl hissed faintly against your ear. He was pulling you toward the back of the van and hastily shoving you inside before climbing in himself. You loured at him and sheathed your weapon while he scrupulously pulled the doors closed. 

“What—” His hand bore down over your mouth a second time, a finger raised to his lips. You only managed an indignant huff before something struck the side of the van with a thud. Vibrant orbs widened with realization that he had just saved your ass from what sounded like a sizable number of walkers. 

Daryl haltingly lowered his hand as if you’d yell at him despite the threat lurking just outside. The man was sweaty and panting, as if he’d been running. Giving him  once over you noticed the carmine liquid slowly saturating his shirt just above his hip. 

Your movements were slow and deliberate to ensure silence. He didn’t seem to notice you until you were almost next to him, resulting in him reeling back with a vexed expression. 

“You’re hurt.” You mouthed, reaching behind your head to untie the ripped section of fabric you had used as a mask. When you extended it toward the wound, he swatted at your hand. You couldn’t risk speaking so the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. The hunter finally relented with a shake of his head, deeming alertness toward the flock of undead to be priority. You smirked and pressed the wadded strip against the injury. 

He let out a grunt but stayed still, eyes remaining on the doors. It didn’t take long for the bleeding to let up, giving you a chance to peel back one side of the slice in his shirt. The wound was superficial, wouldn’t need stitches, but it was abundantly clear that you had nicked him when he grabbed you. You felt your stomach drop. Or maybe that was just the nausea. 

“Think they moved on.” Daryl quietly informed you. Oblivious to your revelation, he opened one door, barely wide enough to see outside. “We can prolly head back to the—what?” He stopped short, your apologetic expression giving him pause. 

“I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t mean to—”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “S’fine. Won’t kill me.”

While he was quick to dismiss the event, you still felt terrible. It could have been so much worse. The whole thing made your desire to talk things out with him that much more crucial. “Daryl, can you just listen to me for a second?”

There was the briefest of moments when you thought he was going to acquiesce. There was something more than anger in the way he looked at you. Then he was shaking his head. “We gotta get back. Check in with ev’ryone.” You grabbed his arm with both hands when he shifted to climb out. “M’serious. I ain’t doin’ this.”

“I get that you’re angry—with me.” You swallowed hard against the strange taste in your mouth, ignoring the protests of your inexorable stomach. “You have every right to be.” Daryl growled and snatched his arm away. He climbed out and stood just outside the door, clearly not confident enough with the degree of safety to leave you behind. 

“Drop it, Y/N.” He warned. 

You had climbed out and blocked his path, hands hovering in front of his chest. “The least you can let me do is—” It happened just as suddenly as before. You had no time to react. You could only clutch your abdomen and pitch forward, vomiting up what little bile that had accumulated since the last episode. All over his left boot. “—apologize.” 

If it had been any other situation, the deadpan examination Daryl was currently giving his footwear would have been arguably hilarious. 

“I’m, uh, sorry about that too.”

His eyes moved up to glare at you from beneath his lashes. You didn’t think a mess on his boot would be enough to really set off a man who spent the majority of his time identifying—and very often stepping in—animal waste. This was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. He took a step toward you. Though you didn’t think he’d hurt you, even for reasons beyond the baby, you couldn’t say you knew him well enough to bank on that theory. Therefore, you took a step back. 

“Listen, woman, just ‘cause ya got my kid inside ya don’t mean I hafta—” He cut off suddenly, angling his head in a way that was familiar to you. You did the same thing while hunting; listening for sounds to indicate an animal was nearby. 

“What is it?” 

He shushed you harshly. When you focused on the sounds around you rather than the whirlwind of thoughts in your own head, you could hear it too. 

Your blood ran cold with dread. 

“Sophia! Lori, there’s two walkers after my baby!”

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N attends her first Harry Styles concert and catches the unwanted attention of a knothead alpha. Luckily Harry and his team are able get to you in time, leading to some confusing thoughts about the popstar.

Previous Chapters: Prologue

CW: Attempted assault (nothing too graphic but it is there)

Word Count: 4.7k

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“What do you mean you can’t go?” You ask incredulously. Going to the concert wasn’t even your idea. It was your friend Rachel’s and now she’s ditching you.

There’s a pause on the other end of the call before Rachel says, “It’s my dog. Well, my family dog that we’ve had since I was in middle school. She’s not doing well, and they think she only has a couple days left so now I have to drive back to Delaware to see her and say goodbye.”

“Oh my god, Rach, I’m so sorry!” And now you feel like a jerk for being mad at her canceling.

“Thanks. We knew it was coming but I hoped we had a few more weeks. Uhm, anyway, I need to finish packing and get on the road.”

“Of course, yea, safe trip home,” you quickly reply.

“You better take some videos of the concert and send them to me. Especially if he does something different for night one at MSG!”  

“Rachel, I’m not gonna have any idea if he’s doing stuff different from his last shows, as I have no idea what his shows are like. But I promise to send you a couple videos, okay?”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t watched any videos from tour. What rock do you live under again?” You laugh at her teasing, mostly cause it’s true. The fact that you’ve made it this far without knowing much about Harry Styles surprises even you. “Have fun for both of us tonight,” Rachel says.

“I will, give your dog a belly rub from me. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

The call ends and you sit for a moment. You don’t really want to go to a concert alone, but that’s what your night now has in store. Rachel had tried calling some other people in your friend group, but they were all busy. You’d also texted your two best friends, Amelia and Violet, but it was too last minute for them to change plans and go with you.

So, alone it is.

You look at the outfit you had planned but decide against it. The leather pants and crop top ensemble isn’t exactly in your comfort zone, but Rachel chose it and wanted the two of you to match. Now that you’re on your own you switch to a pair of jean shorts with tights underneath and a flowy top, something you’re much more comfortable with. Harry’s music plays in the background while you get ready. You’d been studying the setlist to make sure you would know at least some of the songs he’ll perform. You’re happy when you find yourself singing along, showing that listening on repeat had worked.

After getting dressed you do your hair and makeup, then drive to your local train station. Living in north Jersey has its perks, and the quick train ride directly to Madison Square Garden might just be the biggest.

You get off the train and follow the trail of feathers from the boas which leads you directly to the venue. You show your ticket and are led to the entrance for the pit.

Being in the pit had also been Rachel’s idea. You’d never done that before, and you would have preferred somewhere with a seat, and honestly a better view from a higher vantage point. But you’d agreed to pit and in the weeks leading to the show you’d actually become excited to experience something new.

But now that you’re alone, you’re a bit overwhelmed. You’re one of the last people to arrive, since it’s only half an hour before the opener is set to start, so you end up hanging in the back. But even then, the large amount of people around you has you on edge.

Being a single female is hard. Guys are always hitting on women, feeling entitled to your company, not taking no for an answer. But being a single female omega is even harder. The way you see it betas have it easy, especially since they’re the majority. And alphas? Well, what do they have to worry about? They’re bigger, they’re stronger, they have their alpha voices that can command you and take away your free will if they want. Plus, they have an unmatched sense of superiority, thinking they’re so special just because of their secondary gender.

But you’re an omega. Often considered to be the weakest gender. Which is stupid. You’re the gender that gives birth, which takes way more strength than alphas could ever possess. And yet you’re still looked down upon by plenty of people in society.

So, you choose to hide your secondary gender. Only your family members plus Ameila and Violet know the truth. You don’t need anyone judging you based on one little trait.

Going out in public, especially at places as crowded as MSG always gives you anxiety. You never know if a knothead alpha is going to be there and literally sniff you out as an omega. But you trust your suppressants and soothers and, most importantly, your scent blockers, to do their jobs and hide your omega status from the strangers around you.

The pills have never failed in you in the eight years since you started taking them. You have no reason to doubt them now.

And yet, you can’t help but feel uneasy about the attention a certain man in the crowd is giving you. He is undoubtedly an alpha, one that for sure does not use scent blockers. In fact, you’re almost convinced he’s doing something to broadcast his scent, somehow make it even stronger. It’s an unpleasant odor, one that practically burns your nose, but you pretend you can’t smell it. Afterall, a beta wouldn’t be able to notice the scent.

But as much as you try to ignore the scent, going so far as to move to the entire other side of the pit, it still lingers. Because you are most definitely being followed. Seemingly casual glances at the crowd around you shows that the man has moved with you.

Going closer to the stage is the last thing you want to do, but getting deeper in the crowd might be what you need to shake off the man. The girls around you gladly welcome you and make space for you to join. A moment later the opening act starts to play, and you no longer smell the alpha. You’re relieved and get into the music for a few minutes.

Then the girls around you start to move, and you hear them say something about the bathroom. You decide to go with them since you could use a bathroom break and there will be safety in numbers. You keep your head down and casually follow, in hopes that the man won’t see you leaving the crowd.

Only once in the bathroom do you lift your head up. There’s a small line since most people are out listening to the first band. A moment later it’s your turn and you enter the stall. After using the restroom, you notice a large rip in your tights. You look at them, hoping they can be considered fashionably torn, but then you see another hole and decide to give up on them altogether.

It takes you a couple minutes to get rid of them, needing basically to fully undress from the waist down to get them off. Finally, you’re put together again, and you exit the stall, throw out the destroyed tights, and wash your hands. You notice that the group you came with is gone. In fact, the entire bathroom is now empty.

You sigh, disappointed that you’re on your own again, but you suck it up and start making your way back to the pit.

The second you walk out the bathroom door you smell it. Him. That acrid, somehow fishy, definitely revolting scent that alerts you that the alpha is nearby.

Before you even see him you hear him say, “Be quiet, and follow me.”

Shit. That’s an alpha command. You’re aware of that fact, but unable to fight it. You want to run, go back to the crowd, but you have no choice but to follow this man deeper into the back hallways. You want to scream, but every time you open your mouth, no sound comes out.

He leads you to a deserted corner, pushing you so your back is against a wall, and says, “Now stay quiet, and don’t move.”

Again, you do as he says, not only because of the command that you have to follow, but also due to the fear paralyzing you to the spot and rendering you silent.

“What a good little omega,” he says as he walks closer. He leans towards your neck, breath ghosting over your mating spot, and a loud whimper escapes you.

Realizing that you don’t need words to call for help, you begin to let out whines and whimpers as well as release distressed pheromones. Sure, you have scent blockers, but they’re not perfect and fear this strong will surely overpower them. You hope it’s enough to alert any other alphas nearby that there is an omega in danger.

You see the anger cross the man’s face, note the furious pheromones he’s releasing, but before he even reacts, your world goes dark.

***

Harry’s stylist is putting the finishing touches on his hair when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Harry says.

The door opens and he sees his band standing just outside the room.

“Blood Orange is about to start,” his drummer, Sarah, says. “You coming to watch with us?”

“Yea, of course. I’ll join you in a minute.”

As soon as he’s left alone, Harry takes some calming breaths. Night one of fifteen consecutive sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. He can’t believe how far he’s come in his career. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself that he’s worked hard for this, that he’s completely ready.

After spraying one more dose of scent blockers, he walks out of his room and goes through the hallways to find his band. They’re at the end of one hall, standing at the opening they’ll use later to walk to the stage. Harry joins them, making sure they’re all back far enough that they are still hidden from the fans.

Harry mingles with his band while they wait for the opener to start their set. But after a minute, Harry starts to get an uneasy feeling. He himself isn’t nervous or scared, so he really doesn’t understand where this sudden anxiety is coming from.

Harry looks around and sees a worried look on Sarah’s face. Aside from Harry himself, Sarah is the only other Alpha in the band. So the fact that they both have a sudden bad feeling while the betas around them seem unbothered has Harry on edge.

He begins to look for any type of potential threat. Right away he notices that the two Alpha security guards are scanning the area as well, hinting that they’ve picked up on the same thing. One of them walks away to start looking for anything that could be going wrong.

Blood Orange takes the stage, and that anxious feeling seems to go away. Harry checks with Sarah and she’s feeling better too, so they assume whatever was wrong has been taken care of.

Everyone enjoys the first few songs, and suddenly, the feeling comes back, way stronger than before. Harry’s alpha is immediately alert. He starts moving before he even realizes what he’s doing. He hears footsteps and sees Sarah and a security guard following close behind.

None of them know exactly where the trouble is, they just follow their instincts through the backstage hallways. Suddenly, the feeling of overwhelming terror hits them, and they can faintly hear whimpers coming from a distressed omega.

They start to run in the direction the sounds are coming from. Rounding a corner, they come across a scene that has their blood boiling.

There’s a female omega, seemingly unconscious, being physically held up against a wall by a male alpha.

“Let her go,” Harry growls out using his alpha voice. It’s less effective on the man than it would be on an omega, but his grip on the girl involuntarily loosens. Harry and the security guard move in to pull the alpha off, and Sarah runs forward to catch the girl.

More security guards move in and drag the alpha away to be questioned.

Harry’s focus shifts to the omega now being held in Sarah’s lap on the floor. Adrenaline is still coursing through Harry’s body, but he feels himself relaxing faster than he thought possible. That’s when he realizes Sarah is releasing calming pheromones. He immediately works to do the same, rather than continue to broadcast the anger he’s feeling.

He knows his emotions can affect the vulnerable omega, and the last thing he wants to do is cause her most stress.

His most pressing worry is that she’s dropped. It wouldn’t be all that surprising. Omegas tend to drop during stressful situations. This can be dangerous for a number of reasons, especially if they don’t have a trusted alpha to keep them safe while they’re under.

Not only can they not protect their bodies, but a drop can also be a scary experience mentally. Omegas have described it as feeling untethered, like they’re stuck in darkness, unable to find a way out. There are good drops as well, ones you go into on purpose to give your mind rest. This is always done when there is an alpha there to hold and scent them and keep them safe and grounded throughout.

But if this is a drop, Harry knows it would be a bad one, and they’d need to gently bring her up immediately.

“Sarah?” Harry says to get the other alpha’s attention.

“Yes?” she replies, not taking her eyes off the girl.

“Do you think she’s dropped?”

“No. At least not fully. I can still catch a bit of her scent. If she went fully under it would have disappeared completely.”

There’s movement all around them, members of venue security and Harry’s team all coming and going to ensure everyone is safe. Music and loud cheers can be heard, meaning the opening act if still playing, that the show was not interrupted by what happened backstage.

Harry and Sarah are focused solely on the omega, until they hear a familiar male voice say, “There you guys are. Sarah, you scared the shit out of me running off like that.”

She looks up at her husband, Mitch, and smiles sheepishly before saying, “Sorry, I really didn’t think. We heard her distressed whines and just reacted.”

“Is she okay?” Mitch asks, crouching down to be level with the group on the floor.

“We think so,” Harry answers. “There was an alpha who had her cornered. Not sure what exactly he was planning but it was obviously nothing good. She was unconscious when we got to her. Just wish she’d wake up so we can check that she’s really unharmed.”

“Is she in a drop?” Mitch asks. Being a beta he’s not as knowledgeable about these things but he knows enough to be concerned about the girl.

“No, definitely not a full drop. But I’ve been flooding the area with calming pheromones and she’s still not waking up,” Sarah says worriedly.

“Maybe she just senses unknown alphas around her. Why don’t I try holding her and you guys move away a bit?” He senses how reluctant they are to move away from the omega, but eventually they listen to Mitch.

He settles on the ground and Sarah passes the omega to him before moving to give them space. After another minute the girl begins to stir, groggily at first before her eyes shoot open and she jumps up to move away from all the people around her. They watch cautiously, unsure what to do with the sudden change in the situation.

***

For awhile you’re stuck in the dark. This isn’t a drop, not really. You’ve only ever dropped twice but you can tell there’s a difference this time. You’re still aware of what’s going on around you, even if the details are fuzzy.

The alpha is gone. That you know for sure. The awful smell is gone, replaced by a much more pleasant one. It’s a mix of black tea and maybe the ocean? Whatever it is reminds you of early morning walks on the beach during family vacations. You relax more into this scent, and then notice that fresh laundry smell which always means someone is releasing calming pheromones.

You start to relax, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. You can still sense multiple alphas, which keeps you a bit on edge. You try to open your eyes, but you’re still in a deep fog, probably due to the mix of intense emotions and the multiple alpha commands you’d been subjected to.

You don’t realize that someone is holding you until they shift and place you in another person’s arms. The alpha scent fades and you know the person now holding you is for sure a beta.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but when you do, you’re overwhelmed, and honestly a bit embarrassed. Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, the world-famous popstar you’re here to see, is sitting across the hall from you, studying you closely. Next to him is a woman you recognize as his drummer.

After these discoveries, you fully realize your current position; that you’re being held in someone’s lap. One glance at the man shows it’s Harry’s guitarist. You’re no longer embarrassed. No, now you’re completely mortified. You quickly extract yourself from his hold and stand up, looking at the group, totally speechless.

They slowly stand as well, all looking at you. And not just them, but the other dozen or so people that are still in the hallway. There are so many eyes on you, watching you, and you just want to disappear.

Picking up on your unease, Harry says, “Why don’t we go somewhere less exposed, hm? You can hang in my dressing room and maybe have a medic look you over if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you begin to nod your head, just wanting to get somewhere quiet with less people. He reaches out as though to place his hand on your back and lead you but seems to think again and pulls his arm back. Instead, he walks ahead, and you follow, Mitch and Sarah coming as well.

You arrive at the room, groaning when you see more people waiting there. One’s the medic Harry mentioned, another is obviously a police officer, and the third is a man you don’t recognize.

“Harry, need to you choose your outfit and get dressed. We’ll take care of, uhm, sorry I didn’t catch your name,” says the man.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say immediately, surprised at just how scratchy your voice comes out.

Sarah must pick up on it because she asks you, “Would you like a cup of tea love?”

You can’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that.

“What’s go funny?” she asks, smiling as well.

“It’s just, your scent, it definitely smells like tea. And the first thing you say to me is about tea. Sorry, I know it’s not polite to comment on someone else’s smell,” you finish, head lowering in a new wave of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended,”

“Plus, you’re right,” Harry adds. “Swear I can’t make a cup of tea without thinking of her.”

“Aw, H, you think of me? How sweet,” she says with a joking tone.

“Real sweet,” Mitch says, then adds, “But stay away from my girl.”

You smile watching the easy interaction, happy to be distracted by their banter, sipping on the tea Sarah brings you.

That is until the man, whom you’ve learned is Harry’s manager, Jeff, reminds Harry that he’s supposed to be getting dressed, and the cop and medic walk over to you. There’s a table in one corner of the room and they lead you to it.

“Y/N, I’m Kate, I’m just going to get your vitals and check you over to make sure you’re okay, is that alright with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” you reply.

“And I’m Officer Michaels, is it okay if I ask you some questions about the incident tonight?"

“Of course.”

And so, as Kate does a quick exam you tell the whole story to the officer, starting with the uneasy feeling when you first noticed the man, all the way to him using his alpha voice to corner you in a back hallway.

Harry had reentered the room by this point, dressed in his show outfit and looking completely ready to get on stage. But he’s making no moves to leave the room, even though Jeff is reminding him the show is supposed to start in five minutes. Mitch and Sarah leave to finish getting ready themselves.

“Are we all set here?” You ask Kate and Officer Michaels.

“I have everything I need,” he replies. Kate adds, “Everything checks out just fine,” and they both exit the room as well.

This leaves you with just Harry and Jeff.

“Great, so I guess I should go back to the pit then?” You knew you were holding everything up and didn’t want to be more in the way than you already have been.

“Actually, Y/N, it would probably be best if you stay here for the show. Jeff, can you go grab Jada for me?”

The man nods, leaving you alone in the room with Harry. He motions to the couch, inviting you to sit and you do so. He sits on the coffee table facing you.

“I know you want to see the concert, and I know the man is gone, but I have to admit, my alpha is a bit on edge right now. To be completely honest, I don’t know if I could go out there and perform if you’re not completely safe. I would really like it if you stayed in this room and watched the concert on the TV over there. I promise to get you and your friends tickets to another show, alright?”

You’re taken aback by this, surprised by how much he seems to care about you, a random fan he’s never met before. And knowing that his alpha was triggered by what happened to the point where it’s still uneasy is a pretty big deal. That normally doesn’t happen with strangers. Sarah was no longer worried, and the alpha security guards were completely fine the second they caught the man.

So why was Harry’s alpha still calling the shots? It would make sense if you were partners, or at the very least, friends. Maybe Harry does truly care that deeply about all of his fans. That must be it. Because it certainly can’t be you in particular. There’s nothing special about you, other than being a damsel in distress and nearly derailing his show.

He must see the confusion on your face and continues, “Jada will be here in a moment, and she’ll hang out with you. Anything you need, just ask her. I won’t see you after the show, I leave right from the stage, but talk to Jada and Jeff and they’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay, thank you so much for everything,” you reply.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do. Y/N, I am so very sorry something like this happened to you here. I always want this to be a fun, safe place for everyone.”

“It’s not your fault. Please, don’t feel bad. It is completely that knothead’s fault. You guys are the ones that saved me.”

He reaches forward and places his hand on top of yours, just for a second. Your hand tingles as he pulls away, like a bolt of electricity had just gone through it. You meet his eyes, and see he felt it too. You stare at each other, frozen for a moment, until there’s another knock at the door.

Harry stands quickly and introduces you to Jada as she joins you on the couch.

“Okay, I have to go before Jeff kills me. Y/N please give Jada your contact info so we can get those new tickets to you. Get some safe,” he says.

“Thank you, break a leg,” you reply and a second later he’s gone.

You talk to Jada throughout the start of the show, smiling as she lets you in on some behind the scenes info about the tour. After a few songs she asks if there’s anything she can get you.

“I actually have kind of a weird favor. I was supposed to come with a friend, but she couldn’t come at the last minute. I promised to send her videos and she’s going to be suspicious if I don’t have any. Would you be able to take a couple videos from the pit? I just don’t want to have to explain what happened. At least, not yet.”

“Of course, girl, I’ve got you. I’ll go get a couple of the next songs. Are you okay in here? There’s security outside the door so no one will be able to get in.”

“Yea, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a smile.

She walks out and you sink into the couch, grateful for a few minutes alone. Everyone has been so lovely, but it’s been a lot, and you need a minute just to breathe. You close your eyes, relaxing your body, and when you’re fully calm, you smell it.

There’s another alpha scent, but not one of a person nearby. No, it’s in the fabric of the couch. And the blanket next to you. And the shirt draped over the back of the couch.

It’s Harry’s scent. And it’s amazing. So clean, and fresh, with hints of chocolate, and the forest, and something sweet. Maybe roses, you think. Definitely a hint of floral. And once you catch the scent, it’s all you can think about, like it’s wrapped you in a warm hug. You feel better than you have in hours, the stress of the day fully washing away.

Even when Jada comes back, Harry’s smell is what you focus on the most. She notices you’re quieter than before and must assume you’re just tired from everything that has happened. She goes back out towards the end of the show to grab another video and you can’t help yourself. You turn to the side, right where the shirt is, and purposely take a deep breath. It’s almost overwhelming, your omega telling you to steal the shirt so you’ll always have the delicious scent with you.

That snaps you back to reality. You need to get your omega under control. You’re just like every other fan, thirsting for the amazing Harry Styles. Get a grip, you tell your omega. He’ll never be ours, don’t get attached.

Jada comes back, the show ends, and she leads you to a car that will bring you home. She asks for your car keys and ensures someone else will grab it from the station and drop it off at your place. She rides with you back to your home, along with a security guard.

You exchange numbers during the drive and breathe a sigh of relief when your apartment building comes into view. It’s been an exhausting day, and you can’t wait for a hot shower and your comfy bed.

You thank Jada for everything and notice them waiting for you to get safely inside before driving away.

You scorch your skin in the shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and burrow under your covers.

You fall asleep that night not thinking of the horrible alpha, and the horrors of the day, but rather of green eyes, soft hands on yours, and the delicious scent that can only belong to Harry.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, comments, concerns, (requests), please let me know!

I hope I got everyone who asked to be added to the taglist. If I didn't get you or you want to me added just leave a comment or a message!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305 @creativelyeva @daphnesutton @selluequestrian @lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely @eversincehs1

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 19)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA.

In this chapter specifically, Transphobia directed at side character (perp gets swift comeuppance) some violence.

Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 19 -

I switched trains several times, still paranoid that I might be being followed, and found myself heading downtown. I had finally calmed myself enough to decide that I had to find a place to crash and I couldn't go back to my apartment. I'd been gone for a couple of weeks now, so I probably hadn't been served an eviction notice yet, but I was supposed to be missing and presumed dead. Going back there would be a sure-fire way to run into the crooked cops, or J.

I looked out over the city flickering by the train window, framed by scribbled graffiti. Even in the dead hours of the night, there were some cars on the roads, some businesses open, some lights still on. These small signs of life were a strange comfort to me: In a city that never sleeps, there are always some people out there awake with you in the early hours. When you know that, it feels less alarming being awake at a time when you're not supposed to be.

I was ripped from my momentary trance by shouting at the end of the train car, and looking up, I saw two figures. One had the other herded into the corner. The other was protesting and trying to get around him. The man had his back to me as I approached.

"Shut up you t***ny slut!" he yelled out, slurring his words.

The lady he was attacking pushed him away and managed to run towards me.

"Hey!" I yelled at the drunk asshole, sending him spinning round to see who was addressing him.

"What?!"

"Leave her alone!"

"And what you gonna do about it?" He laughed.

"I'm not joking. Leave her the fuck alone and keep your hands to yourself!" I barked back.

This clearly pissed him off as he straightened up to full height and started marching towards me. I wasted no time in pulling the taser out of my pocket, flipping off the safety and pressing the trigger. In a flash, the two spiral wires shot out and embedded into his chest. He started to violently convulse and jerk around, falling to the floor with an uncanny groan as his entire body stiffened up. I pulled out the used cartridge and tossed it onto the floor, glad I hadn't given him a chance to get any closer to us.

"Gotham city am I right?" The lady beside me muttered, kicking the man in the groin for good measure, then pulling a cigarette and lighter out of her black corset and lighting up as she returned.

I shook my head at the guy crumpled up on the floor.

"I always carry a stun gun in my purse when I'm working. It's not safe, espescially for girls like me out here - Only some other stupid fucker stole my goddamn purse earlier!"

"Wow, it's not been your night, huh?" I said as we walked to the other end of the train car.

"No it hasn't. But you stopped it being a whole lot worse. I'm Candy, what's your name, doll?" She smiled, smoothing down her miniskirt.

I flinched a little at her choice of pet name.

"I'm (y/n). Nice to meet you Candy... I'm not having a good night either, i'll be honest," I sighed, loading a new cartridge into the taser and throwing the strap of my duffle bag back over my shoulders.

"Awe no honey, what's eatin' ya?" She asked earnestly.

Again, I was taken back by anyone in the city being kind to me.

"I need a place to crash, do you know anywhere... kind of, off-grid no questions asked? I got a little money, but not a lot," I said, scratching the back of my head.

"Somewhere that doesn't ask for ID you mean?" She asked.

"Yeah, I kinda, crossed a bad cop... or four," I admitted, deciding I could trust her.

"Oh wow!" She giggled, "Don't worry, I got you. I know a place or two."

"Thanks, I'll make it worth your while," I added, handing her a hundred dollar bill.

"Oh doll, that's way too much. I can't take it. Don't ya need it?"

I pushed it into her hand.

"Trust me, i'm good for it. I want you to take it, just promise you'll help me?"

"Of course!" She said, tucking it into her corset and patting my hand supportively.

The train pulled in to a stop and we both exited the doors to move to a different car, leaving my new friend's attacker groaning in pain on the floor.

I followed Candy's lead as we got off two stops down and I wondered how the hell she could walk so gracefully in heels down the slippery staircase to street level.

"I'm going back to my place for the night, if I didn't share with some very sketchy people, I'd invite you there," she sighed.

"Hey that's okay, I appreciate what you're doing already."

We rounded a couple of corners and came across what once must have been quite a grand building in the forties. The steps up to the cracked art deco façade spilled down onto the street and we stopped in front of them. The graffiti and flyers pasted to the walls indicated that it wasn't so grand any longer.

"I'd try this one first. It's a bit less dangerous than the other places," she explained, stubbing out her cigarette under her pointed heel and starting up the steps.

I hopped up after her and entered the lobby.

There was a man sat behind the reception desk with his feet up watching television. The blue light flickered across his pallid face as he sat, chewing on something. I had to press the little bell on the counter for him to slowly peel himself away from the TV set.

"Yeah?" He asked gruffly.

"Can I get a room here please?" I asked.

"A double?"

"Sure," I nodded.

"It's twenty five bucks a night. How many nights you stopping?"

"Uh, three for now."

He held out his hand expectantly as I withdrew the bills, being very careful not to flash exactly how much cash I had with me. I handed them over and he licked his fingers and counted them, before slamming a fist on the side of an ancient looking cash register so that the drawer popped open with a ping. Once he'd jammed the drawer closed again he turned to a wall covered in chipped plaster with hundreds of keys hanging from hooks. Grabbing one down, he handed it over.

"Third floor, room 27," he said already settling back in front of his TV show.

"Thanks," I muttered.

The stairwell had a flickering light and I could still see my breath as we climbed. There was an elevator but it looked incredibly unreliable and I really did not want to get stuck between floors. Once I reached my room, we sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets looked clean enough - much to my relief. There was a little bathroom and I had a window that looked out over the street and the train tracks. With each passing train the vibrations rumbled through the room.

"Thank you," I said, my voice cracking a little as my emotions overwhelmed me.

"Oh baby, what are you running from?" She said, taking my hand as she sat beside me on the bed.

I blinked back my tears.

"It's not just the cops," I managed to get out, struggling to find the words to explain the rest.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me what. We all got our demons."

I smiled weakly.

"How do you do it?" I asked shakily.

"Do what?"

"Stay kind, when life is so bad to you?"

"Seems to me like you're doing the same. Don't give up honey. Kindness is rebellion in a world like this," she answered patting my thigh supportively.

"I guess you're right," I began.

"I am. But don't get me wrong. There are some nasty fuckers out there who don't deserve your kindness. Give people what they deserve. If they are kind, be kind. If they're not... well, you already understand; you tazed that creep for me."

Her words struck me to my core.

"Now, I got to go. If you need to find me, I work Jefferson most nights. Or you can ask in the Black Dog Club on fifty-second, they usually know where I am."

I nodded.

"You're gonna be okay?" She asked, looking guilty.

I wiped the remaining tears from my face and put on a smile.

"Of course, I'll be fine."

I wanted to give her more money, but I was terrified of anyone else finding out what I had. She walked out of the door leaving me on my own.

I turned the key until the door locked and slid the dead bolt across the back. Then I placed the key on the bedside dresser and pulled the chair from the corner of the room in front of the door, hooking it under the handle.

Finally, I laid back on the bed, exhausted. I could see the faint glow of the oncoming dawn in the dark sky through the gap in the broken blinds and the sounds of the city clawed at the glass - as though it was desperate to destroy the tiny layer of separation I had just established.

I thought about what Candy had said. I thought about the crooked cops, and the man on the train. I thought about the man who had attacked me in the alley until J intervened, and Vladislav injecting me with the fear toxin. I thought about all of it, turning it over and over in my mind.

I had to do something. I was already on the run... I had already committed a laundry list of criminal offences. Maybe it was time to be less reactionary, and more proactive. It wasn't hope that filled my chest now, but there was a growing desire for some kind of revenge. If the law couldn't be relied on to provide justice for people like myself or Candy, then maybe the only other option was to do something more drastic... an idea was spreading like fire in my mind.

I knew that J would come looking for me, turning over every stone, and the cops i'd crossed, but what I didn't know, was that the Batman was also on my trail. Running the letter through the computer database had not returned the results he was hoping for, although it had given him a set of my prints which could potentially confirm whether I was at other locations, and therefore still living. He'd managed to piece together our movements away from the burnt out apartment, between the mysterious bloody clothing at the laundromat and the car-jacking on 89th. The kid running deliveries was terrified - who was gonna believe that he'd run into both the joker, and the bat? Still, he'd recounted his story and the mysterious vigilante vanished into the night once again, like a deadly shadow.

Running the plates had taken time, but eventually that had lead him across the water, to the hills, and the crumbling remnants of Parkview Asylum. Again, he found only traces, echoes where he wabted to find voices. It frustrated him, and he looked out of the window at the twinkling lights of the city in despair. She seemed to be winking at him, as if once again she concealed her secrets. Gotham had the upper hand; she always did. She was full of shadows, and corruption. The rot was so deep you couldn't dig it out. But whenever he wondered if she was too far gone, he would think of his parents, and find the renewed strength to pull forwards against the tide. He would find them. He would free her from the Joker's profane clutches.

When I woke up it was almost midday, and uncharacteristically sunny. The warmth of the yellow light brought a genuine smile to my face as I held out a hand, watching my movements send dust particles swirling around in the beams. For a few precious moments I had forgotten that I was living on borrowed time - that I had crossed J and fled in the night. My heart felt heavy with guilt, not just for staying with him in the first place, but also for leaving. If he had a heart, had I just taken a hammer to it? Wouldn't he be angry?

In a desperate attempt not to focus on the alarming reality of my situation, I cast my mind instead to the idea that I might be able to make some productive use of my time before the end I was rapidly screeching towards. If this train was going off the tracks, I would ride it until it plunged off the fractured bridge into the waters. I knew I didn't want to kill anyone. For the most part I didn't want to cause major bodily harm either... but exceptions could be made for some if necessary. Setting fire to people, or beating them with a crowbar wasn't going to be my first move, but if things became truly desperate, I already had a track record for it.

Knowing where to start was difficult, but I figured that I would try to track down the guy who had attacked me in the alley. I wanted to know he hadn't hurt anyone else, but I wasn't convinced, and something in my gut told me he was part of something much bigger. I wanted to know what.

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It’s Never The End - Chapter 1: Hi, I’m Dean

WARNINGS: Complete fluff, a little bit of confrontation and arguments, truly a warm introduction to yourself and the Winchester boys!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~10 YEARS AGO~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a cold, rainy night as Y/n glanced out of the passenger seat window watching as the world hurried by. She felt her heart falling to the pit of her stomach as she sighed deeply.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart." Tony, Y/n's father interrupted her thoughts.

Y/n felt that twinge in her stomach again as she sighed harder, "but dad... I don't understand why I can't just come with you now." She said as she turned her head to face her father as he drove.

Tony shook his head, his eyes remaining in the road as dark night was lit up by the headlights of his car. He took a deep, fed up breath as he spoke, "you know why, y/n... you're only 14."

"But dad-" Y/n tried to fight her case but Tony quickly put a stop to it.

"No buts y/n!" He said firmly, "hunting is far more scary and dangerous than the bottles and targets you've been fighting." He said with a hint of coldness in his voice. He knew how badly she wanted to help him, protect him. But he was her father, not the other way around, and he needed to keep her safe.

Y/n stuttered for a moment, she wanted to reply, to argue but the tone of his voice was affirmative and stern. Now was not the time. She sighed heavier as she crossed her arms turning away from him once again. She watched the raindrops glide down the glass of her window as the outside world moved by quickly.

Tony glanced at his daughter, seeing the inner turmoil she was feeling. As much as he wanted to have her with him always, facing a 10 foot Wendigo was not a place for a 14 year old, hunter in training or not.

For the rest of the drive there was a slight uncomfortable silence, filled with worry and resentment. Y/n hated this, hated every time her father left for a hunt. Never knowing if he was going to make it back. And what was even worse... this time her grandmother was "too far" from where they were last, so now Tony was dropping her off at a strangers. Well, not a stranger to Tony but a stranger to Y/n.

>>>>>>>>>>>

As Tony turned the car into the run down scrap yard, Y/n leaned closer to the window to look at the place she was staying at for god knows how long. A frown deeply etched into her face as her mouth dropped open. Nothing but destroyed cars piled around the land. Her nerves peaked, but were quickly clouded by her frustration that she was being forced to sit out another fight once again. "Seriously?" Y/n said, her voice laced with bitterness.

Tony put the car in park as he sighed heavily turning to look at his daughter who was still judging the area in which they were currently in, "please y/n... stop making this harder than it needs to be."

"Me making things harder?" She replied turning to look at him with her eyebrows raised.

Tony felt his patience growing thin, "now that's enough young lady. I understand that you're upset and annoyed that you're still too young to hunt, but that is enough of this attitude." He said firmly, emphasising the 'still too young'. He pulled out the keys after turning off the ignition with a huff. "Now you be polite, I owe a lot to this man, and I'll be damned if my daughter is disrespectful or gives him a hard time."

The look in Tony's eyes gave Y/n everything she needed to do as he says. Her father wasn't very unpleasant but he certainly was not somebody to push the buttons of. He was a grumpy old hunter that's for sure. Before she could reply Tony climbed out of the car as he headed to the trunk to receive Y/n's bags. After a moment of trying to control her emotions, Y/n finally opened the car door reluctantly as it squeaked, representing just how she felt on the inside. Weak and uncomfortable.

Tony walked to meet his daughter as he closed her car door. Y/n stood for moment, staring at the home in front of her, dread filling her entirely. "You will be fine." Tony said his tone softening slightly as he could see the nervousness in Y/n's expression. "Come on." He said tilting his head as he began to walk towards the door.

She watched as he walked ahead of her before she took a deep breath forcing her feet to begin moving towards the porch. Once they were both outside the door, Tony nodded as he glanced at her, giving her one final silent warning. He lifted his fist as he knocked on the door, Y/n's heart pounded in her chest. She hated meeting new people.

After a couple of moments, which felt much longer than they were, the door creaked open to reveal a rugged, slightly older man. His beard was wiry and his clothes were definitely hunter vibes. His head was slightly hung low as his cap covered the top half of his face but as he slowly looked up Y/n could see warmth and wisdom in his eyes. Suddenly the man's face softened as a smile grew.

"Tony!" The man said as he opened his arms out for her father to step into. "My god it's been a while." He said as Tony wrapped his arms around him in return.

"I know, and you haven't aged a day!" Tony replied with a much more excitable tone. Y/n looked at her father confused, it has been a while since she saw him this... happy? She thought. She also didn't realise just how close her father was with this stranger.

"Well, I can't say the same for you." The man laughed in response as Tony stepped back. Just then the man's eyes landed on Y/n. His glance was soft, he could sense the anxiety radiating off her as much as she tried to hide it. "And who do we have here?" The man said trying to keep his tone as welcoming as possible.

Y/n's eyes fell wide as she felt a huge overwhelming sensation fill her body, but before she could even panic about replying Tony stepped in.

"Bobby..." he said addressing the man. "This is my daughter, Y/n." Tony placed his arms around her shoulders as she remained still.

Bobby looked at Y/n, his eyes showing a curiosity as he tried to figure out exactly what he was about to be dealing with. "Well... it's nice to meet you."

"Well, I'd like to say the same to you but giving the circumstances, I'm finding that to be rather difficult right now." Y/n blurted out without thinking as he father squeezed her shoulders as his head quickly turned to her with an unpleasant expression.

Everything fell silent for a moment as Y/n cursed herself for her tone as she felt her father's stare. Bobby's eyes glanced at Tony and back to Y/n before he suddenly burst into laughter. "Well we have a fiery one... I like that, kid." He suddenly leaned down slightly to meet Y/n's height, "you're gonna need an attitude like that in this life, sweetheart."

Tony's grip loosened slightly as the tension is Y/n's shoulders dropped. She finally let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding in as she felt a sudden slight comfort in this situation. "She is a fiery canon that's for sure." Tony said as he laughed nervously. "But she is a fine young girl."

"I'm not young anymore, dad." Y/n muttered under her breath. She suddenly looked up at her father, "please... please can I come with you. I'm ready!" She said, eagerly fighting her case once again.

"Y/n." Tony said, his tone speaking a million more words. Without having to say anything further Y/n sighed before looking down at the ground.

Bobby could sense the hostility Y/n was feeling towards her father in this moment. "Well kid, your dad better get going, these darn Wendigos don't exactly disappear on their own." Bobby said softly as he took Y/n's bags from Tony's hands.

Y/n sighed once more without looking up as Bobby took a step back, Tony turned his daughter to face him as he placed both hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me Y/n. Bobby here, is a great man, and a damn good hunter." Y/n listened as her father spoke but her eyes remained glued to the floor. "I best believe that whilst I'm gone, Bobby is sure to get you even more trained up and ready for the hunt." Tony's tone was now soft, as much as he is firm he too hated leaving his daughter during his hunting trips. Y/n finally looked up, as all she wanted was to be just like her dad and find her mother before it was too late. "You'll be okay pumpkin, just do what you do best. Be kind, have courage and most importantly... kick ass." Tony said with a warm smirk.

As Y/n looked into her father's eyes she felt her own tearing up. Before she could show any weakness she suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around her father. "Be safe." She said quietly. "I love you."

"I always am pumpkin." Tony smiled as he held his daughter tightly. After a moment he took a step back and flicked her chin with his finger. "Be good, I love you too." He said with a little bit of authority returning to his voice. Y/n nodded reluctantly. Tony turned to Bobby, "thanks again Bobby. If you have any issues I'm only a phone call away." Tony said reassuringly.

"I think we'll be quite alright." Bobby said with a nod and a smile. Tony shook Bobby's hand firmly. "Safe journey old friend." Bobby said with a chuckle.

Tony smiled and then glanced at his daughter once again before he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Without another word he turned away and headed to his car. Y/n watched with a mixture of fear and resentment in her eyes. The dark night was suddenly illuminated by her father's headlights as the roar of the ignition filled the air. She sighed deeply as he began to back away, her heart heavy with worry for both herself and her father. She hated this moment, never knowing when she will see him again, or... if she ever will.

Suddenly, Bobby's voice broke the silence as the car drove off into the distance, "come on kid, I'll show you to your room."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The night sky moved quickly as Y/n remained in her room for the entire night. Her heart ached as her headphones didn't leave her ears. She tossed and turned, the thought of her father being on this hunt alone, always worried her to the core.

The night seemed to fly by as the sun suddenly began to peak through the curtains. It wasn't long before Y/n heard commotion coming from downstairs. She wanted to hide out, but she knew her father would be angry if he learned that she hibernated in her room for however long he's away for. Plus, as far she knows that could be a very long time, so she may as well get used to this now.

Y/n quickly got herself dressed as she slid into some denim shorts and a tank top, which was slightly covered by a flannel shirt which once belonged to her mother. Her feet seemed to drag as she slowly made her way down the creaking staircase to follow the sound of pans clanking in the kitchen. As she hit the ground floor the smell of bacon filled her nose, her heart warmed at the smell as it reminded her of home. It had been a while since she had a breakfast at home, with her and Tony moving from motel to motel, she hadn't been home in... well years.

As soon as she reached the centre of the living room, she peered into the kitchen to find Bobby quickly moving around in an apron, which made her giggle slightly. He noticed her almost instantly as he turned to look at her with a warm smile on his face, "well, look who's up." He said with a welcoming tone. "How did you sleep?"

Y/n shrugged slightly as she was still nervous as she headed into the kitchen. "I think I'll sleep better tonight." She spoke softly. It ached Bobby's heart to hear the nervousness in her voice.

"Well girl, sit yourself down, breakfast is almost ready." He said gesturing to the table. Y/n nodded nervously showing Bobby a small smile for the first time as Bobby continued to work. As Y/n watched, she noticed just how much food Bobby was preparing and thought he was being a little excessive but before she could speak Bobby place a plate in front of her which housed eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, tomato's, you name it.

Y/n looked at bobby with sadness in her eyes, "thank you, sir." She said.

Bobby immediately chuckled as his eyes fell wide, "woah, none of this sir in my house." Y/n looked at him nervously, "Bobby is just fine." He said with a reassuring nod. Y/n nodded with a smile as Bobby pointed towards her food, "now come on, eat."

After a moment, Y/n lifted her knife and fork and dug in. Bobby watched her, he could see just how uncomfortable she was, but he knew that once she got settled she was going to be a feisty one, just like all the other hunters in training he'd came across.

"I'll be right back," he said before taking off his apron and leaving the room to head upstairs.

Y/n sat at the table, her fork moving slowly as she enjoyed the food Bobby had prepared for her. "Hmm... he's not a bad cook." She said to herself. Her eyes glanced around the kitchen, it wasn't very well kept, the surface areas were covered in supplies and ingredients and as her head continued to face the sitting room, the clutter filled the entire space. Books, weapons, papers, more books, everywhere.

Suddenly the sound of the back door bursting open made Y/n jump out of her skin. "Yo Bobby, we're homeeee!" A voice loudly bounced into her ear drums as her head snapped to see two young boys walking into Bobby's home. The older one immediately headed to the counter top where Bobby left all of the food he had prepared. "Oh great, I'm starving!" The older one said. Neither of the boys had noticed Y/n sat at the table as of yet.

The younger one carrying a bag and books closed the door behind him as he spoke, "we literally just ate." He said as he rolled his eyes.

The older one scoffed as he stuffed his face, his mouth filled with food as he began to speak, "yeah well I'm a big boy Sammy..." he began to turn around as he continued speaking, "and a big boy's gotta-" he suddenly froze and his eyes landed on Y/n who sat at the table glancing at the two of them with a blank expression. The older one's brows furrowed quickly, "who the hell are you?"

The younger one turned to the look at the table as his eyes fell wide in shock. Y/n raised her eyebrows at the older one's tone as she tilted her head, "I was the one already sitting here sunshine, so I think I should be the one asking who the hell are you two." She said firmly.

The younger one couldn't fight the smile forming on his face as the other raised his eyebrows in response. "Wow... fiery little one aren't we?" He said, clearly annoyed in his tone. Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes as the boy quickly hurried past her, "Bobby!" He called out, "who the hell is this fiery little y/h/c you got sat in your kitchen?"

Y/n huffed at the boy's reference to her hair colour as she looked over at the younger one who just stood, staring at her with a small smile on his face. Her eyes flickered to the side and back him confused as to why he was staring. "What?" She said her tone strong.

The younger boy's eyes fell wide as he stuttered but before he could form a sentence, Bobby's voice filled the house as he headed back downstairs. "Goddammit boys, you walk in this place and act like it's your own!" He said as he met the 3 of them in the sitting room/kitchen space. Y/n turned her head to Bobby as the older one stood looking at him with his arms crossed. "Boys... this is Y/n." He said. As Bobby spoke to the boys his voice was much different from how he addressed Y/n, almost like a parent or general of the army. "She's going to be staying with me for a while."

The younger one's eyes lit up with excitement as the older one huffed. "Are you serious?" He said sounding even more annoyed.

"What the hell is your problem, boy?" Bobby said firmly as the older one sighed glancing at Y/n before turning back to Bobby. "Y/n's father is a hunter, just like yours. You're not the only kids who need to stay at hotel Singer from time to time." The older one glared at Bobby not sure what to say. "Now you better pay this young girl some respect, trust me boy... she is not one you wanna be messing with." Bobby warned. Even though he didn't quite know Y/n yet, he certainly didn't underestimate her.

"But Bobby-" the older one tried to speak but was immediately cut off.

"Don't defy my boy, you're in my house under my roof. Got it?" Bobby responded firmly.

Before the older one could push his luck any further the younger one stepped forward towards the table, "hi... my name is Sam." He said with a cute smile as he looked at the girl nervously. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as a girl being here, at Bobby's, had never happened before. Y/n nodded at the boy before giving a small smile in response.

The older one watched as his little brother spoke to the girl, the stranger at the table. He felt a burning frustration building up inside of him. This was his safe place and he was not happy that somebody was here, almost replacing him. He suddenly sighed rolling his eyes before storming out of the room, out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

Y/n didn't flinch as the door slammed but Sam felt his body twitch as the bang penetrated his ear drums. Bobby sighed, he knew this would happen. Suddenly a soft voice broke the silence, "sorry about my brother... he's a little..."

"Intense?" Y/n said raising her eyebrows at Sam.

Sam nodded with a laugh, "exactly."

The older one didn't return whilst Sam joined Y/n at the table and began to eat. A little while after some awkward silence and eating, Y/n thanked Bobby for her food and headed back upstairs to her room, immediately putting her headphones back on.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Y/n eyes suddenly darted awake as her music had stopped and the sound of muffled voices were vaguely heard through her headphones. She must have finally dosed off after being up for most of the night. Y/n rubbed her eyes before taking off her headphones but once her ears gained more sound she quickly sat up as she heard raised voices from the older one and Bobby. She hurried to her feet and as she opened up her bedroom door slowly. She tried to listen but the voices were still muffled. After a moment she slowly crept towards the staircase as the voices became clearer.

"But Bobby, I don't care about her, or her story... this is where we come goddammit!" The older one's voice echoed up the stairs as Y/n slowly made her way down them.

"This isn't up for discussion Dean! You need to get your head out of your ass boy." Bobby's voice was clearly irritated but as he continued he softened up, "I'm glad you find this place to be your home dean... but right now, this is hers too. You know how it feels every time your father leaves to go on a hunt... she's going through the exact same."

There was a silence as the boy sighed and Bobby continued, "now be nice. She ain't had it easy either, kid."

Y/n couldn't help but feel this burning anger and uncomfortableness building inside of her as she finally hit the bottom of the stairs. How dare this boy, who doesn't ever know her, act this way over her having to be here. As she entered the room the older boy looked at her with a slight glare as Sam leaned forward from the sofa where he sat.

"Y/n..." Bobby said softly, "did you manage to get any more sleep?" He asked concerned and nervous for how much she heard. Y/n nodded at Bobby, her expression blank as she hid her emotions well. The older boy glanced at Bobby as Bobby gave him a stern look. He felt defeated and still annoyed at this circumstance but he knew what he had to do.

The boy stepped forward with a sigh as he suddenly looked up at y/n holding out his hand reluctantly as he spoke, "hi, I'm Dean."

Y/n's eyes landed on the boy's held up hand before she looked back up to meet his gaze. "Dean, is it?" She asked, with a condescending tone. Dean looked her nervously and grit his teeth as she still hadn't taken his hand and respected his kind gesture. Y/n sighed before she spoke, "I don't need your fake pity Dean..." she said sternly as Dean's eyes fell wide, "I.. quite frankly, don't care that for whatever reason you don't like me, just for being here, which by the way is against my own will." Dean swallowed hard as he slowly put his hand down. For once he was speechless. "So I will happily stay out of your way, if you stay the goddamn out of mine... okay?" She said as she stepped up to Dean in a fronting manor. Dean looked down at the girl nervously as he stayed quiet. Y/n glanced from Dean to Bobby and then to Sam who watched the interaction cautiously before she looked back at Dean once more. "Thanks." She said as her vulnerability started to show slightly. She turned away from him and headed outside into the scrap yard.

A silence fell onto the room as Sam felt his heart ache for this girl he just met. Dean huffed before looking at Bobby, "well I tried." He said his tone patronising. Bobby glared at him as Dean knew exactly what bobby was saying to him without words. Dean sighed, "fine. I'll go talk to her." He muttered reluctantly as Sam exhaled, hating the confrontations that have taken place today.

Y/n sat on the back of a broken down pick up truck as she looked out into the scrap yard. The sun was slightly warm as she took a deep breath trying to control her anger and her upset. She hated feeling out of place, she hated that her father was out hunting without her and quite frankly she hated how vulnerable she was feeling. She didn't do vulnerability, as being vulnerable gets you killed in this life.

"Hey..." Dean's voice made Y/n jump and broke her out her stare. She turned her head to look at him, his expression was still cold as he tried to soften his voice.

Y/n rolled her eyes before looking away, "thought I told you to stay out of my way?" She said annoyed as Dean made his way closer to her.

"Well..." Dean said with a deep breath, "we are going to be living together for god knows how long, so... I thought that may be difficult." He said with a light chuckle, but Y/n could still hear his reluctance to do this in his voice.

Dean suddenly sat on the edge of the truck leaving a big enough gap between himself and Y/n. He could feel his inner turmoil as what she said before was true, he didn't know her, and he wasn't entirely sure why he felt this way. There was an uncomfortable silence before Dean turned to look at her. Her eyes staring straight ahead, out into the scrap yard, clearly avoiding looking at him. After a moment, Dean sighed once again before he began to speak, his tone of voice taking Y/n by surprise. "Look... I don't know why I'm feeling like this..." he spoke as she listened. "I think..." Dean paused as he too hated showing any signs of vulnerability, but what Bobby said was true, he needed to fix this. "I think I'm just a little scared that you're going to take Bobby's attention from us..." Dean said honestly as he looked down.

Y/n turned her head to look at him as she noticed his nervousness in the way he fiddled with his hands. Her gaze softened slightly as he continued.

"You know... my dad has never really had time for me and Sam, with this hunting life and all." As Dean spoke Y/n was able to relate what he said to her own life. "And well... Bobby's just always been there for us... like another dad I guess." Dean said nervously as he looked anywhere but her.

Y/n sat for a moment processing his words before she spoke softly, "I get it..." Dean's head snapped in her direction as their eyes met. Only this time, neither of them had hostility in their stare. "My dad's always leaving for hunts... I usually get left at my grandmothers or in motels."

Dean nodded as she spoke, he watched as her feet swung slightly over the edge of the truck. He suddenly felt a comfort in her, "our mom died when I was 4 and Sammy was only 6 months old." He said as he glanced away again. "My dad's been hunting the thing that killed her for the last 14 years... since that very day."

Y/n empathised with Dean, she appreciated his ability to confide in her after their very volatile meeting. "I'm sorry to hear that..." she said as she glanced at Dean.

Dean suddenly looked up and shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem stronger than he was actually feeling this moment, "yeah well, everybody has a story right... of why they got into this life." He said as Y/n mind was flooded of the memories of her reasoning. Dean glanced at her as he noticed her expression change slightly. "Oh... you don't have to tell me if you don't want to or-"

"My full name is Y/n Y/l/n." She said reluctantly as she cut him off. Dean's eyes fell wide in disbelief as he stared at her.

"As in, 'The history of hunting by Edward Y/l/n'... y/l/n hunting legends?" Dean said, slightly starstruck.

Y/n looked out into the distance as she nodded nervously, "uh huh." She licked her lips.

"Oh... wow." He said, unsure what to do or say next. He stuttered for a moment, "it's... it's actually an honour to meet you." He said now feeling even more nervous and regretting his earlier actions.

Y/n rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "god Dean, I'm not no celebrity or something."

"I know but... your family... they're hunting legends." He said, still showing his excitement in his voice.

"You say that like it's a good thing..." she replied, as her expression fell sad once again. "having that name, ruined my life."

Dean's heart sank slightly as he looked at her face. "I take it you being apart of that family isn't the reason you're hunting..."

There was a moment of silence as Y/n suddenly began to nod her head slowly. She paused for a moment taking a deep breath before she spoke. "We got out of the... "family business"" she said as she gestured air quotes with her hands. "But... with our name, means we have a lot of enemies..." she said as she turned to look at Dean, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. "It's not just the hunting community that knows us Dean... it's the bad guys too..."

Dean's heart fell into his stomach as she spoke. It hit him hard to learn that this poor girl always had a target on her back from the day she born, just because of her name. "I guess that's true..." he said nervously not wanting to hear where this story was heading.

Y/n took another shaky breath as she continued, "even though we quit the life, my family's past caught up with us... my..." she paused struggling to talk about it. Dean waited patiently, giving her a chance to find her strength. "My father was blamed for a lot of things my grandfather did... he was confronted at our home when I was 8 years old." Y/n looked at Dean her expression serious and held in as much of her pain as she could. "By demons."

Dean's eyes fell wide as he knew first hand just how ruthless demons can be, after one killed his own mother.

"They wanted him to hurt, hurt more than giving him someone to grieve." She said, her voice cracking slightly. Dean grit his teeth as he listened, he felt her pain through her words as he began to feel anger for her. "One of the demons possessed my mom." Y/n said as she hung her head low. "And we've been trying to find her ever since."

A heavy silence hung in the air as Dean looked down, his own heart hurting for this girl and her family. He couldn't imagine how awful it must be knowing there was always a chance they could save her and not lose her forever. Unlike his family, who were seeking revenge, trying to bring justice to his mother who they've spent many years grieving. "Y/n..."

Y/n shook her head, her attitude towards this life very much so like Dean's. "Don't Dean... it's okay." She as she gave him a half smile for the first time. Dean looked into her eyes and felt this urge to protect Y/n. Forever if need be.

He wanted to say something, promise her that everything will be okay but he didn't know that for sure. But what he did notice, was that their stories were extremely similar, he knew to an extent how she felt. Then he had a thought, if she were anything like him, then he knew just the thing that may make her feel slightly better in this moment. He suddenly jumped up, "come on." He said with a hop in his step.

"What?" Y/n said, looking at him confused.

"Come on!" Dean said more lively with a slight smirk on his face. Y/n waited for a moment before curiosity took over. She hopped off the back of the truck and followed Dean. He took her to the very back of the scrap yard, "wait there," he said as she paused and looked ahead. She quickly noticed the amount of shattered glass in the direction Dean was heading in. He then began to stack empty beer bottles along the wall that was in the centre of the all the previous wreckage. A small smile appeared on her face as Dean quickly made his way back to her.

"If you're anything like me..." he said as he suddenly pulled a small pistol from the back of his jeans and he quickly checked it was loaded as he continued, "all it takes is a little gun shooting to take the edge off."

"How do you have that?" Y/n chuckled her eyes glancing at Dean.

Dean looked at her with a smile, "what? Im 18, I can have whatever I want!" He said with a snobbish tone.

Y/n rolled her eyes as Dean handed her the gun. "You trust me with this? How do you even know if I know how to use it?" She said, her eyebrow lifted as she smirked.

Dean looked her up and down before giving her a 'seriously' look. "Maybe the boots?" He said sarcastically as y/n pushed him slightly before taking the gun and immediately taking aim.

"When you're ready princess," Dean teased but was quickly caught off guard as Y/n fire 5 shots. Each one hitting a bottle perfect, the glass shattering around the area, her aim precise in every way.

"Damn girl." Dean said in awe, "Bobby was right, you are not one to mess with."

Y/n blew the smoke from the top of the pistol cockily as she looked at Dean, "and that's not even the half of what I can do." She said with a serious tone.

Dean paused for a moment before looking at her sheepishly, "look... I am sorry... you know... for my..."

Suddenly he was cut off by the sounds of feet running through the yard. Bobby exhaled sharply as Sam followed suit. "Goddammit kids." He said out of breath and relief seeing them both standing there.

"What? You really think I'd shoot her?" Dean said his eyes wide as Bobby suddenly scoffed.

"You? No." He chuckled, "I thought she'd shot you." Bobby said with a smirk as Dean's mouth dropped open.

Y/n laughed as she looked at Dean's face, "well... I'm still thinking about it." She said with a smirk as Bobby crossed his arms still catching his breath. Dean looked at Y/n, he liked her after all, her fiery personality and the way she could handle herself. He knew from that moment they would be friends, and would always look out for each other.

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Authors note: I’m so glad to be back! I hope you guys liked this, this book will be filled with love and smut and a little love triangle between the reader and the winchesters! Love you all 🖤😈

[poppadom0912]

Together (I)

Characters: Kelly Severide x Reader, Jay Halstead x Sibling!Reader, Will Halstead x Sibling!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, stabbing, guns, arson, drugs etc.

Summary: What was supposed to be a quick trip cleaning your dad's belongings turns into something so much more.

A/N: Posting this before the summer holiday is over for me. This is a series that I've been planning for a while so I hope your buckled in for quite the ride. Enjoyyyyy!!

Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

"Where were you this morning?"

Kelly jumped, his head snapping over to find you peering over his shoulder and into his locker. "Gosh Y/N, you scared the crap outta me."

"That doesn't answer my question." You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched your boyfriend expectantly. "I woke up in bed alone."

"What are you even doing here?" Kelly asked you, your question going over his head. "I thought you were going to Wisconsin to clean up the cabin."

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine." You shot back, not backing down. You were going to win the staredown you were currently having, even if it was against his incredible eyes that you adored with all your being.

"I'm getting the grill out today. Just made sure we had everything in case I needed to run to the store before shift." Kelly said truthfully, crossing his own arms in retaliation. "I told you this yesterday, did I not?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes when you realised that he did indeed tell you yesterday. "I came for my jacket and to give you my morning kiss which I would've given you like I usually do had you not left."

Kelly awed, his arms unfolding so he could grab your hips and bring you in for a kiss. No matter how much you wanted to hold a grudge against him, you couldn't help but melt and kiss him back.

Before you could wrap your arms around his shoulders, Kelly very reluctantly pulled back. "Be safe alright? Make sure to call me when you get there."

"You'll be the only thing on my mind." You smirked, pecking his lips before reaching into his locker, taking his CFD issued jacket. "Thank you very much."

"You minx." Kelly rose his brow in surprise, shutting his locker shut as soon as you got what you needed.

"Don't let my brothers hear you call me that." You warned him, shrugging his jacket on as you did so, well aware of Kelly's eyes looking you up and down as though he was going to eat you.

"When are they meeting you up there?" Kelly asked, aware that your brothers were still working and were getting off later than you. You mentioned the other night something about them not being able to get off at the same time as you but they'd be up with you soon after.

"Fingers crossed when the sun sets if there's no traffic." You said with finality, looking down at Kelly's watch and taking note of the time. "I gotta go now but stay safe alright? I don't wanna cut my trip off short because Boden's calling me saying you got hurt or into trouble."

"Yes ma'am." Kellys saluted you, pulling you back in for another kiss before escorting you out the firehouse. "The same goes for you. It's freezing out so the roads will be icy, probably going to start snowing today as well."

"That's why I got this." You pointed at the lieutenants jacket on your shoulders, proudly showing it off. "I promise its safe return."

"I'm holding you to that." Kelly pointed at you as you walked out the app floor.

"I'll call you in a few hours lieutenant." You winked, waving at your boyfriend as you approached your car.

"I'll be looking forward to it firefighter."

*****

You hated how Kelly was correct nearly all of the time.

By the time you reached the cabin that was now in Will's possession due to him being the oldest Halstead after your dad's death, the frost developed into snow and was slowly stacking up.

Kelly jacket was way too thin for the snow but once you got inside and you got the heating working, all would be well.

Fumbling with the keys, you locked your car and just about managed to get into the cabin, a gust of wind pushing you inside. With tons of effort despite your job, you found it difficult to push the door close against earth's natural forces.

With a sigh, you slumped against the door once it was finally closed. It took way too much effort than what was needed.

It'd been years since you last came to visit the Cabin. The last memory you had of this place was staying one summer when Will was in high school and your two brothers teamed together to drown you in the lake nearby. Of course, they didn't let you fully drown but it was funny anyways.

The nostalgia hit you in waves as you walked around, rubbing your hands together to create some friction so you wouldn't freeze to death. It also happened that the last time you were here it was with your mother when she was alive and well.

Oh how you missed the simpler times in life.

For some reason, the motor was refusing to start up and before you could kick it, you heard the front door burst open, a gust of cold air following that you could feel going through the entire cabin.

Frowning, you glanced down at the time on your phone. Unless Jay and Will got off early without telling you, no one should be here.

With your guard fully up, you silently crept through the hallways, looking for anything to protect yourself but came up with nothing. You knew a few things about self defense from both Kelly and Jay and there was also no way you could scream to get attention because no one would hear you out here.

Gripping your fingers around your phone, you were seconds away from tapping Jay's contact when you were stopped by the barrel of a gun at the back of you head.

You immediately froze at the motion, not even trying to risk anything. There could be several things happening but before you could try to escape, you had to evaluate the situation first.

"Listen man, I don't want any trouble." You said warily, holding your hands up to show what you guessed was a man that you had nothing in your possession but your phone. "If you want money, it's in my car. If you want somewhere to hide out, stay here. If you need any help, I'm a firefighter so I'm sure we can figure something out."

"i've got exactly what I want." The man's voice sent chills down your spine, recognition flooding you despite not having seen his face. This was the voice of the man that haunted you for years now and no amount of therapy could erase the permanent scars in your mind and on your body. "And she's not going anywhere."

And before you could reply, you were struck on the back of your head and was met with nothing but darkness.

*****

Coming back to your senses, you were expecting to wake up in your bed with Kelly and everything that happened was nothing but another nightmare but upon not being able to move your arms or legs, reality struck.

This was all very real and you were about to experience something short from hell.

"Jackson Murray." Your throat was hoarse as you spoke, addressing the man that sat opposite you with the proudest smirk on his lips.

You were currently tied to the heater that you failed to turn on, your feet and hands bound but several pairs of zip ties to ensure you wouldn't escape.

"Y/N Halstead." Jackson said with mirth in his eyes. He looked exactly the same since you last saw him, that scar you inflicted still going across his face, going from his left eyebrow all the way down to his upper lip.

"I take it prison wasn't your scene." You tried shifting but only groaned, finding that you movement was very minimal and if you did try to move, it would only cause you pain.

"It was horrific." He groaned, dragging his hand down his face as he reminisced what was supposed to be life in jail. Currently, he was sitting on a dining room chair which gave him leverage against you, allowing him to look down on you. "In all fairness, it taught me a lot."

"Is that so?" You humored him, your eyes flickering around the room, looking for a way to escape or to make a distraction. Your head was absolutely killing you and if you guessed right, you had a wound at the back of your head and you most definitely had a concussion.

"Not too much science but I learnt so much from other inmates, it was fascinating!" Jackson gushed, his smile eerie as he went into story about all the violent and gruesome things he learnt, explaining that he would test some of them out on you.

You shivered, blocking out his voice as you only now realised your lack of clothing. Jackson must've changed you while you were out because you no longer wore Kelly's lieutenant jacket or your shirt. Instead, you only sported your bra and jeans.

You had no idea what he did with your clothes but no matter how much your appearance was a concern to you, you also had concern for the man that was approaching you with a knife in his hand.

Within seconds, he was crouching down so he could be eye level with you, the tip of the blade nicking your neck as he spoke to you in a whisper. "I've been waiting for this day for years. Dreaming of this exact moment every night since I was arrested."

Before you retort back or even spit in his face, you could hear a very faint door being slammed shut from outside. For a nanosecond you were confused as to who on earth would be out here but then you remembered.

Your already built up dread was now drowning you as you remembered that your brothers were coming up here later today but with no record of the time and from your period of unconsciousness, you totally forgot.

Internally, you were cursing out your brothers. From the corner of your eyes, you could see out the window that it was still bright out which meant they got off work earlier than planned.

Opening your mouth to shout out a warning, Jacksons hand clamped down on your lips, his knife still at your neck but digging into your skin further. You could feel the blood slowly dripping down the base of your neck and going down your chest, your groans muted by your captors palm.

"Y/N, you here?!" Will shouted as he entered the cabin but you could only hear his footsteps as he ventured in. "Your car isn't out front and Kelly said you definitely left this morning."

Will's voice got clearer and louder the closer he came to the living room. Panic was now flooding your bloodstream but you were completely immobile with no way of telling him to get out and run.

Turning the corner, Will wasn't expecting anything when he casually passed the living room but the sight he was welcomed with was anything but welcoming.

Before he could move, let alone react and say anything, Will was bashed on the back of his head by a baseball bat in the hands of a man you thought was dead.

You screamed in Jackson's hand, tugging on your restraints as you leaned as far forward as you could, wanting to go and help your now unconscious brother.

Blood was slowly seeping out from the back of Will's head, the crimson liquid mixing with his red curls that only he inherited from your mother.

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes at your deadly still brothers body. If it wasn't for the occasional rise and fall of his chest, you for sure would've thought he was dead.

All of a sudden, Jackson was moving away from you, allowing you to gasp as you recollected yourself. Your breathing was erratic as you watched the two men converse in whispers. With a joint effort, Will was further subdued using several zip ties around his wrists and ankles just like they did to you but instead of being restrained by the heater pipes, he was put against the table leg.

"Y/N, you remember my brother, don't you?" Jackson innocently asked you, turning around to talk to you. He was acting as if his brother didn't just knock out your brother cold.

"Ezra." You whispered, too scared to talk any louder. Both mentally and physically you were in shock from everything that was happening but you could never forget the brother duo that ruined your life.

"You guys just want me, let Will go please." You said with desperation, eyeing your oldest brother to make sure he was okay. "He has nothing to do with any of this."

"Oh but that's where you're wrong." Jackson shook his head, coming towards you and crouching down to your slumped height, brushing your loose hair with his disgusting hands. "Your brothers have everything to do with this."

And then it was in this moment you remembered that Will hadn't come alone. He mentioned that him and Jay were going to drive here together.

With wide eyes, your heart dropped when you heard the front door open again but instead of hearing a voice greet you alike to how Will did, you were met with silence.

"Watch them." Jackson ordered his younger brother before disappearing into the hallway. Hopefully Jay could use his detectiveness and figure out that something was wrong.

Keeping your lips sealed, you felt yourself shivering even more than you already were. The cold was slowly starting to get to you and you hated it.

The tension was so strong that you felt it suffocating you, your lungs tightening as it got harder to breathe. You eyed the man that everyone thought to be dead, millions of questions flooding your mind.

The gunshot scared you, making you jump out of your bones but your restraints minimised you reaction, pulling you back as you winced at the bruising around your wrists and ankles.

You felt the biggest lump in your throat at the uncertainty. Who pulled the trigger? Did anyone get hurt? You wanted nothing more than these two brothers to be dead and gone from your life but fate was clearly having its fun.

Soon enough, some of your questions were answered when Jay was pushed into the living room by Jackson. Jay was now unarmed but he was also free of any injuries making you breathe a little easier knowing at least one of your brothers were unharmed.

You easily read Jay as his eyes landed on you and Will. The green eyes that you two shared widened in disbelief and concern; looking you up and down, inspecting your half naked body and Will's limp one, you could feel his fury from across the room.

Without argument, Jay allowed himself to be restrained and due to lack of space, he was restrained on the other side of the heater. He was so close to you yet so far. The brothers ran out of zip ties though, leaving Jay's legs free meaning if he stretched himself far enough, he could reach you.

For some reason, the two brothers found this to be the best time to leave the room, disappearing into the cabin somewhere leaving the Halstead siblings alone.

"Jay, did you shoot Jackson?" Was the first thing you asked your older brother, hoping with all your might that the disgusting man was hurt.

"It's just a graze but yeah I did." Jay answered nonchalantly, worry swimming in his eyes as he fully took in your appearance. "They didn't..."

"No, God no." You immediately shook your head, gagging at the mere thought of what Jay was suggesting. "Just a nick on my neck and something at the back of my head but otherwise, I'm all good."

You could see him relax but only ever so slightly, his eyes dragging over to Will's slumped figure. Following his line of sight, you filled him in before he could ask. "Ezra knocked him out with your old bat."

"Why the hell is Ezra alive and Jackson out of jail?" You asked Jay, desperately in need of answers but deep down, you knew Jay had no answers either.

Before Jay could say anything though, he was stopped by the brothers storming back into the living room, a mix of excitement and fury following them.

Without saying anything, they were both coming towards you.

"No, no, no." You repeated over and over, trying your hardest to get their hands off you. "Get off, get away from me!"

Jays shouts for you to be left alone fell on deaf ears, his attempts to kick either brother away failing the second a needle was plunged into the side of his neck. However, even while drugged up, Jay was relentless and tried his hardest to fight the men off you but soon enough, succumbed to whatever drug he was injected with.

You felt like crying as you couldn't do anything to help Jay. All you could do was helplessly watch and beg him to wake up but alas, nothing happened.

Using your distracted state, the brothers managed to remove you from the pipes and were now dragging you onto your feet.

Despite your weakening body, you tried as hard as you could to fight the brothers off. With their hands gripping your arms and your waist, you tried elbowing, headbutting, biting and spitting but the most damage you did was further annoy them.

Now agitated, you were shoved against Ezra's chest, his arms holding you down as Jackson did what he wanted since the day he met you all those years ago. Clenching your jaw, you screwed your eyes shut as you felt your body cry out at each blow.

You swallowed back your cries, not allowing them the pleasure to hear you in pain. That’s what got them off, hearing their victims cry and scream in agony but you wouldn’t allow that.

“Stop, stop.” You tried pushing them away but the punches kept rolling. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything, please.”

Jackson slowly pulled away, his knuckles bruised and bloodied from his attack. He had the proudest smile on his face, as if he’d just won gold in the Olympics

“I just want you to get what you deserve baby.”

[katerina-marie]

Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 5

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (Past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 11.8k (whew)

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho), no use of y/n, vaginal sex (though not super explicit) so please avoid accordingly! More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes: Peep the cw, because in case you missed it there will be 18+ content in this chapter. But warning, I do not have the talent to write explicitly detailed sex so it's more narrative/vaguely described. I applaud all authors that have that ability! Also, this is 99% fluff and vibes because that's what we all need, right?

P.S. If anyone recognizes where part of the title/included line is from.....no you don't and I'm sorry, not sorry lol

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

Chapter 5: Heart of None, Heart of One (Don't Be Afraid, I Feel It Too)

Neither you or Suguru were dressed for the affluence of this particular part of the city, the two of you wearing light and airy clothing to help ward off the oppressiveness of the summer sun. Names of restaurants and boutiques that you hardly recognized lined each side of the street full of ostentatious vehicles, and you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly Suguru had dragged you to a place neither of you had any real business being in. His fingers were twined through each of yours and had been since the two of you hopped off the train to begin your stroll towards a destination unknown. You weren’t sure if he was being intentionally vague with where you were going, or if Suguru had failed to think any further than necessary and inform you of your day’s plans. 

Men and their inability to consider five minutes ahead of themselves for anyone else’s sake. 

You passed a building with black bricks and golden writing emblazoning its name above the door, and you felt your mouth begin to water as you recognized that the style of the restaurant lended itself to your favorite foreign food. A certainly more upscale version of it anyway, if the valet’s podium and immaculately dressed patrons were any indication. 

“We should come here one day, Suguru,” you told him wistfully, inhaling deep the scent of rich food before it faded from your nose as your steps took you further and further away. Suguru huffed a noncommittal chuckle and gave you an incredulous look of question. 

“Sure, I’ll just swipe Satoru’s credit card when he isn’t looking and we’ll have ourselves a night out.” His voice was full of sarcastic humor and you rolled your eyes at him, because of course you were aware that your meager student allowances couldn’t afford such luxury, nor would Satoru be willing to part with his card without an invitation to join what would have been a date night for the two of you. The idea of it was fun to imagine in the least, and you filed the name of the restaurant away in the back of your mind for an unspecified day in the future somewhere. 

“So what are we doing here?” you asked, peering around the city as you both came to a crosswalk and minded the traffic currently flowing through it. “I can’t say that I have a suspicion, and I would like to enjoy the last afternoon of the weekend together if you don’t have something already planned.”

Suguru was quiet as he glanced up and down the street once the vehicles cleared the road, and he tugged at your hand to spur you into movement once the signal had been given to ensure your safe crossing.

“We are having to make a quick stop to retrieve something,” he said, intentionally avoiding your narrowed eyes by keeping himself one step ahead of you. You’d yank your arm back and hold your ground in a juvenile display of defiance at his reticence, but you didn’t favor being run over in the middle of the street, nor were you confident of your victory in strength should it be put up against his; you’d count on being pulled along no matter how hard you dug your heels in. 

“And what is it that we are retrieving?” You grew annoyed at Suguru’s reluctance to speak anymore than what was barely necessary, and now that the two of you were again on the safety of the sidewalks, you had half a mind to start testing his patience as he was doing yours. Your boyfriend must have been able to pick up on the change in your disposition, and he turned to you with a weary sigh as the two of you came to a stop. 

“Satoru called me earlier,” Suguru admitted, and your face dropped into distaste, mouth open to offer your dissent for whatever moronic task your boyfriend’s best friend has saddled the two of you with, but he shot you a warning glare that stayed your tongue. “He’s still on that assignment, but he forgot to finish up his reports for the last one and Yaga’s going to have his ass if he doesn’t turn them in first thing tomorrow. I told him we’d take care of it this once.” 

You scoffed, offended disbelief fueling your ire for the white-haired sorcerer, and you fixed your withering look on Suguru.

“You coddle him,” you hissed, promptly snatching your hand from his and marching forward on your own even though you hadn’t the faintest clue to where you were. The surrounding buildings were no longer fancy restaurants and expensive retailers but instead towering, dark-windowed monoliths with impressive double glass doors at their entrance. Still swanky, but more unassuming. 

“I’m helping,” Suguru argued, jogging up to your side to keep pace with you. “Friends do that for each other.” 

“I mean, yeah they do, but this feels more like Satoru is intentionally being lazy, unable to deign himself to possibly do his own work and would rather put it off to the less fortunate of us.” Your tone was scathing and your words mean for meanness sake, even if they held a scant bit of truth, and from the look on your boyfriend’s face he didn’t appreciate the disparaging of his best friend’s character. You supposed Satoru could now be considered your friend as well, now that nearly a year and a half had passed since you met your significant other’s “other”, but it had been slow building between you and Satoru, if not for the complete opposite personalities and upbringings you each had then for becoming accustomed to sharing Suguru. 

“Cut him some slack,” Suguru said, his expression knowing and slightly irritated, but his voice for you was softer than it was moments ago, and he brought you to a halt with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m not ignoring the fact that Satoru is not the most apt student when it comes to his paperwork or always considerate of other people’s time, but he has a full plate and even heavier burden attached to his name, so I’ll let it slide sometimes.” 

You weren’t sure if you’d agree, but you didn’t want to taint the afternoon with Suguru just because of your disdain for Satoru’s lack of planning, so you gave him a half-hearted shrug and glanced over his shoulder at the building the two of you came to a stop in front of.

“This it?” 

Suguru nodded and took your hand again to lead you through the frosted glass doors serving as the entrance. “He has an apartment here for when he wants solitude, so we’ll just pop in to grab the reports and then be on our way. We’ll stop for lunch after, how about that?” 

The noise of affirmation you made lacked enthusiasm, mostly because you had been thoroughly chastised by your boyfriend and not because you didn’t want to share a meal out with him, but Suguru was undeterred and you turned your attention to the details of the front lobby. The high walls were painted alabaster and arched over certain hallways you guessed lead to various amenities. The slightly darker beige floors gleamed under rich lighting, leaving the forest green and muted mahogany fabrics of plush looking couches and other luxe decor to stand out in their superiority. You and Suguru continued through an archway and came upon an older man situated at a stately wood desk sandwiched between floor-to-ceiling glass doors that prohibited your entrance. You bristled at the idea of having to convince someone to allow you through to somewhere the two of you didn’t look to belong, or worse, have to stand by the desk as other residents came and went while Suguru beckoned Satoru to pick up his phone and petition you two through. However, to your shock, Suguru simply smiled and waved at the gentleman—who returned his greeting in kind—and he had the glass doors sliding open with a touch of a button just in time for the two of you to walk through them.

“A silver spoon Satoru does use,” you commented wryly. The two of you stepped into an open elevator, and you were pleased to see a stifled grin on Suguru’s face. 

“That I won’t deny,” he said, pressing the button for an obnoxiously high floor. You chattered between yourselves about lunch options and other plans for the rest of the day whilst traveling up, and your arrival to Satoru’s floor was announced with a pleasant trilling of a bell. As you walked down a hallway, you took notice of the distance between the doors of each dwelling, marking the considerable size of each one. Suguru came to a stop at the very end of the hall and pressed a series of numbers into a shiny keypad before motioning you through the now opened door. 

Satoru’s apartment was as beautiful as you imagined, with its sprawling living area and enormous windows the first thing to appear after making it through the entrance, and then an extensive gourmet kitchen was located on the left. There were a couple other hallways you assumed lead to various rooms, and you had a thought to explore (snoop) when you felt a hand at your back.

“Satoru should have some sweets in his fridge,” Suguru said, dropping a brief kiss at your temple and then another at your cheek as he brushed by you. “I’m going to his office right quick if you want to help yourself. It’s the least he can offer.” 

That brought a grin to your face, and you immediately turned towards the kitchen as Suguru’s footsteps faded in the opposite direction. Satoru’s fridge was nearly twice your height and the stainless steel was polished so perfectly that you could nearly see your reflection in it. It was all so grandiose, but the excitement immediately abated when you opened the fridge and saw nothing but a couple bags of sweets and water bottles taking up a minute amount of its expansive capacity. You grabbed one of each and brought them to the large island across from the fridge and tucked into your snack. As you munched, you let your eyes drift from space to space, everything meticulously placed and artfully decorated. Though you couldn’t help but notice the absence of anything that made it personal. There were no photos or cookbooks or trinkets of any kind. The copious amounts of furnishings and state of the art appliances all made up an impressive looking home anyone would be thrilled to make use of, but there was not one sign of usage or life that would indicate that Satoru did anything of the sort. The thought humbled your opinion of him a touch, and the quiet melancholy of his apartment made the sweet in your mouth taste oddly of cardboard.

How lonely. 

Now, years later, as you marveled up at the building that scraped the sky, you wondered if Satoru was sitting in the quiet of his apartment cutting a lonesome figure and feeling as such. 

You had taken most of the morning to scour the school grounds in pursuit of him, but no evidence had turned up to support his stay there. Megumi had confirmed it when you ran into him in your frenzied search and mentioned that Satoru had texted him to cancel their end-of-week training because he’d be off campus. The thought of having to transport yourself all the way to that part of the city where his apartment was located felt daunting in your exhaustion, but when you closed your eyes or let your mind wander, the images of Suguru and Satoru walking away from you after turning their backs superimposed over each other and sent a new wave of panic over you every time. 

So you cleaned yourself up the best you could in the least amount of time you were willing to give, and then set out on a train. After that, the walk from the station to his apartment was about ten minutes, but you had only been there once, and you had started to worry when recognition of the area still hadn’t struck. You were only half certain you had found the correct building until you made your way inside the lobby and found familiarity in the arch of the walls and luxuriousness of the furnishings. Ahead, still seated at the same wooden desk, was the gentleman from the one time you had visited with Suguru. Age had greyed his hair and added lines under his eyes, but you recognized him the same. As you walked up to his desk with a nervous smile, you hoped you looked more put together than you felt, and you had just opened your mouth to try and convince him to let you up when he grinned at you. 

“For Gojo, right?” 

You were taken aback at the friendliness in his voice and the expectant way he looked up at you from where he was seated, and you were sure your mouth had flopped open inelegantly. “Uh, yes, but how did you—,” 

“Years ago, he left me a photo of you and a man with black hair and explicit instructions to let either of you up at any time without questions asked.” The gentleman glanced down at his desk and you could just make out his hand scribbling at a large notepad. When he looked back up at you, his gaze was inquisitive. “I just barely remember you from the one time you came with him—the boy appeared often enough that I recognized him—but I haven’t seen either of you since.” There wasn’t any judgment in his voice, just simple observation, but the whole encounter was picking at the fraying threads of your already frail emotions. 

“Yes,” you bit out, swallowing to clear the hoarseness of your voice, “it’s certainly been, uhm, a long time and…” There wasn’t anything you could come up with to fit into a brief enough explanation, and thankfully the gentleman picked up on that fact. 

“Would you like me to call up to him and let him know you’re here?” He offered, his hand already drifting towards a phone on the edge of his desk. You shook your head and flailed your hands in an effort to dissuade him from doing so. 

“No, no, please. I’m…surprising him.”  

The man smiled gently and gestured with his head towards the glass doors as he opened them with a push of a button. “Off you go then.” 

You gave him a hurried thanks and rushed off through the doors before you could lose what little courage remained in you, and when the elevator shut just after you stepped through it, you leaned back against the wall of it to take in large mouthfuls of air. Satoru was definitely home, and you maybe had two minutes to compose yourself into something presentable before you were face to face with him. You took it as a positive sign that he hadn’t immediately revoked your extended invitation into his building (unless he had simply forgotten to and now you had another idea to fret at) and you hoped that when you knocked at his door he would neither ignore you entirely or answer and then proceed to slam it shut in your face. If you made it far enough that he welcomed you in, you had absolutely no idea what you were to say to him, and the pinging of the elevator bell signaling your arrival to his floor made it clear you were running out of time to come up with anything. 

Your steps on the tile echoed loudly in the empty hallway, and you were positive it was your tired mind that made them sound reminiscent of Satoru’s name. By the time you came to his door, it was ringing in your ears and beating to the same rhythm of your pulse, and you wondered if Satoru could hear it from wherever in his apartment he remained hidden from you. The stress of it had you wanting to linger outside to come up with a speech or some kind of plan before you knocked on his door, but the thought that he could sense you waiting—hesitating—drove you deeper into embarrassment, so you lifted your hand to knock your knuckles against the door without a second consideration. The time it took for him to answer left your thoughts to scramble. 

Would he look at you with the same anger he surely saw reflected in your own eyes just hours prior? You figured you both had a right to feel such a way, but whereas you had hurled word after word of condemnation at him without ceasing, regardless of their truth or lack thereof, he hadn’t been given a moment to offer scant more than a stuttered reply. Was it presumptuous to have the hope that he would repay you in kind? That he would offer what you hadn’t and listen to what you had to say? Never again did you want to live with the regret of last words unspoken.

The beeping of his door unlocking snagged your attention, and you inhaled sharply when the knob began to turn. Through a small crack in the door, you saw Satoru peer his head around it, just offering you a sliver of a singular blue eye and the glimpse of a closed off expression on his face. You tangled your fingers together in the hope he didn’t see them shaking, and you gave him the barest of contrite smiles.

“May I come in?” 

Satoru didn’t hesitate to give a single nod of his head and you took a step back when he pushed open the door wide enough for you to walk through, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ as you passed by him. You didn��t wait for him to continue further into his apartment, eager to get out of the small entryway and into the openness of his living space if only so you could feel slightly less confined. In a quick glance around, you noticed that Satoru’s apartment looked nearly identical to how it did the one and only time you visited it. There was still a museum-esque quality to the cleanliness of it, but you could see a half-full glass of water on the island in his kitchen, and you had spied his pair of black shoes by the door next to where you had toed yours off. 

The susurration of his house shoes on the wood floor could be heard coming up behind you, and you turned slowly to face him. You took in his casual clothes, a dark grey sweater and navy lounge pants, and noticed him doing the same to your similar but more feminine outfit. When your eyes met, it pained you to see how his were guarded, lacking their usual brightness and enthusiasm, and you knew it was somewhat your fault. 

“I should have let you talk more,” you blurted, head cleared of any logical thought. “I was within my right to be angry with you, but I should have heard you out, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” 

Satoru’s expression eased and you wrung your hands. “I want to respect your space. I’m willing to give that to you, but I’m afraid of leaving things unsaid and—,” 

You were horrified when your eyes began to sting and the inside of your nose burned. You flicked your focus down to the floor in the hopes that not looking at him would keep you composed enough to get the rest of your words out. “If you’re willing, I’d like to talk this out with you. I would hate for things to end the way they did.” 

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were wide, and Satoru shuffled forward to reach a hand out to press against the back of your arm. “Of course,” he said, his voice so emphatically eager that it panged your heart. “Of course I’ll listen to you.” 

The pressure of his hand guided you towards the ample seating in his living room, and the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the sofa placed in front of a massive entertainment system. Satoru sat just far away enough that two of you wouldn’t touch, but he laid out his arm along the back of the sofa, turned on his hip, and leaned forward slightly on his thigh so he could face you. You mirrored his position but kept your hands in your lap. 

“I don’t hate you. I never could,” you breathed out, and a part of you died inside when relief slackened Satoru’s features and his shoulders lowered as tension bled out from them. “I was angry, and maybe even felt a little betrayed, but it wasn’t you I hated.” 

There must have been a stricken look on your face, because his hand that rested on the back of the sofa lifted and hovered in the air for a moment before he moved it close enough that he could just graze his fingertips along the top of your arm. 

“I think I hated him. I hated Suguru in that split second.” The words felt heavy and disjointed in your mouth, not quite understood by your brain, but you felt palpable liberation once they were out. Satoru kept his eyes on you attentively, and you were powerless to the words that spilled from your tongue. 

“I hated him for what he did. I hated that he left me, and I hated that he chose to speak with you one last time instead of me. I hated that you had to kill him, and that we have to wake up everyday to live in the aftermath of it.” You were interrupted by a hiccuping cry that forced its way through your teeth, and when you looked up at Satoru helplessly, his hands shot out to take yours into his own. 

“But not you, I would never hate you,” you said once you had regained your composure, “and I would like to hear what you have to say. To help me understand what you were going through and why you made the choice to keep what Suguru said a secret until now. I’d like us to be completely understanding of the other, with the intention of being able to move forward.” 

Feeling much like you had just finished a sprint, you drew in a few deep breaths to steady the racing of your heart and calm the adrenaline running through your body. Satoru didn’t look angry or upset. He had an open, albeit cautious, look on his face and he studied your hands in his grasp momentarily before gently releasing them, and you both withdrew your hands to let them rest on your respective laps. 

“It was panic,” he started, pausing to meet your eyes. “I was so panicked that evening, about what I had just done and how I was supposed to reveal that to you. I could barely think straight enough to tell you I killed him, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of having to relay to you what Suguru said when I could hardly make sense of it myself.” 

You watched Satoru closely as he wiped his hands down over his legs and you both heard and felt the stuttered breath he pushed out from deep in his chest.

 “I’m not saying that to excuse my behavior, but it felt like the easiest thing to do for myself at that moment, and I regret it. If I could go back…well, I don’t actually know what I would have done.” Satoru inched a little closer to you and raised a questioning brow. “Would you have been okay if I had told you that he had said something, but couldn’t yet share it with you? Would have it been better to tell you everything he said, but warned you that I didn’t have the capacity to explore the implications of it right then with you? Or—god—I should have told you at any point between then and now.” 

The ideas Satoru was presenting caught you by surprise. You hadn’t ever really considered before what you had wanted to hear in the moments when your entire world was collapsing around you. Surely you would have wanted to know, but the anticipation of waiting to hear what those words would have been had you chosen the first option probably would have driven you to madness. In regards to the second, knowing what Suguru had said would have prevented the whole mess the two of you were in now. However, knowing yourself, you very well might have fled the school like you did to avoid discussing things with Satoru once he was ready, keen on never once touching such a topic for the rest of your life, and who knows what outcome would have resulted from that. And him revealing what Suguru said any time after that day and between now would have mostly likely played out the same way it did last night.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, and you couldn’t help but let out a tired laugh. “Either alternative has its merits and its corresponding negatives. In the future, I think open communication would be best, but for things past I don’t see much point in dwelling on what should have been.” 

Satoru nodded, seemingly agreeing with what you had said. You chewed your lip, considering the weight of the question you wanted to ask him before ultimately deciding that he deserved the chance to let himself be heard. 

“How have you been?” Your inquiry had his mouth opening to respond, but he was silent in the aftermath, and you assumed that he needed time to condense his thoughts into words. 

You empathized with that particular plight.  

“Tired,” he said finally, solemnly, and you moved closer towards him until your knees knocked against each other. “I would give anything to have a night’s rest where I didn’t dream about killing my best friend.” This time, you reached out your hand to grip his fingers in yours, and his answering smile was full of gratitude. “Or have a nightmare where you hate me,” he added, squeezing your hand to balm the sting of his words. 

The two of you were silent after that, each of you taking turns glancing at one another and then back at your tangled hands before focusing on anywhere else in the room. However, there was a collective sense of expectation hanging above you both, and you had a good idea of what topic was waiting to be broached. 

“Satoru,” you murmured, biting down on the inside of your cheek as he lifted his head to listen to you. There was trepidation in the way he held himself, and you wondered if he anticipated what you were going to say next. “I tried to kiss you.” 

He was rapt in his attention on you, his face giving away nothing as to what he was feeling, but he fiddled with your fingers and ran his thumb along the inside of your wrist. He ducked his head just barely, and when his hair shifted over his forehead, it was just enough to conceal his eyes from you. “You did.” 

Satoru’s evasion grated you, but you set aside your frustration to focus on what you were trying to convey to him, to get him to understand what you couldn’t even quite wrap your head around fully. 

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to me because of what Suguru said.” His head snapped up and his brows furrowed at your words, but you kept going before he had a chance to interrupt. “I think you probably have an idea about what I feel for you, but I don’t expect you to reciprocate just because you might have some misguided sense of duty or responsibility towards me, and I can forget about that near-kiss if that’s—,” 

“I want you,” Satoru said on a exhale, and he looked to be fighting a bashful grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Your noise of surprise filled the heady silence following his declaration, and you felt as though the two of you teetered on the edge of some great precipice. 

A quiet “oh,” was all you could get out, breathless in a mounting giddiness, and he chuckled at whatever flush warmed your cheeks before his features smoothed out into something more solemn. 

“I do,” he insisted, and you could sense the ‘but’ following his statement and it made all the butterflies that had erupted in your chest fall leadened into your stomach, “but I can’t help feeling a little…unsettled about it, maybe? Not in a bad way necessarily, never with you—,” 

Satoru stammered, an overwhelmed breath heaving his shoulders, and you watched him with a pang of sympathy as he struggled to grasp at the words clearly evading him. “I don’t want you to think I feel entitled to you, and I don’t feel like I’m betraying Suguru by wanting you. I don’t even think I need his permission or anything like that. In fact, he seemed to give it in his own twisted way that night, and it’s just…you were his, once, and now you’re…” 

He trailed off, at a loss for the proper words to adequately explain a concept you both seemed to wrestle with, and the look he gave you was helpless and beseeching in a way that was delightfully captivating to you: eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and if his gaze could be anymore adoring you’d melt into the fabric of his fine linen couch. 

What was previously off limits had become an alluring possibility. A person who had always occupied a strictly friendly role had begun to appear in a way not thought of before. It was overwhelming, exciting, terrifying in what it could mean to want someone who had once been unobtainable, who you had not once considered for yourself before the loss of someone precious to both of you. But Suguru was gone now, and what more could be owed to the two of you than indulging in a shared happiness?

You giggled, catching your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that was surely about to overtake your face, and you tugged on Satoru’s hands to pull him in close to you. 

“Don’t be afraid,” you whispered, your voice light and playful while the blue of his eyes danced and his cheeks went round in elation, “I feel it too.” 

————————————————

Later, as you contemplated your existence in the quiet sanctuary of your room, you would berate yourself for not taking the opportunity to kiss Satoru senseless. Alas, you had remained dutiful to your mutual agreement to let the enormity of the morning settle before getting carried away with frenzied touches and the mingling of panted breaths. Instead, the two of you stayed seated on his couch for another hour, close in the way you had both drifted to lean against the other while chatting idly about anything ordinary. 

You had taken moments to gently lift strands of hair from his eyes, goosebumps erupting over your skin when his focus couldn’t decide whether to fix on your face or follow the movement of your hand. When you had later regaled him with a forgotten tale from your time abroad, Satoru had spent his time listening by swirling a finger over the top of your kneecap before letting it drift just slightly over your thigh so he could squeeze it gently. The pressure had you stuttering over your words, and you used the increased need to jump from your skin as an excuse to leap from the couch and beg for a glass of water. Satoru smirked at you in that annoyingly smug, but persistently charming habit of his, and had simply sauntered off to his kitchen to leave you to follow in his wake. 

When the afternoon sun began to push shadows further into the depths of his apartment, you begrudgingly announced your intended departure, pointing out to Satoru the exhaustion that clung to you both when he began to protest. A much-needed nap was in order, and he only surrendered his disagreement when you let out an exaggerated yawn. He followed you to the door with your sleeve caught between two of his fingers. The two of you stared at each other after you had slipped on your shoes, neither quite ready to bid the first goodbye. You eventually took the initiative to rock onto the tips of your toes and wrap your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you squeezed him to you. Satoru arms circled your waist and after nudging his nose against the top of your head, you heard him breathe in deeply before letting it out in a long exhale, and the yearning of it made you ache. 

You had to pry yourself from him, and you didn’t turn to look back as you walked down the hallway lest you lose any remaining self control and skip your way back to Satoru. It was only once you crossed the threshold of the elevator that you heard the click of his door closing shut. If you had a dopey look on your face as you made your way home, evidenced by the knowing grin on the mouth of the gentleman working the door in the lobby, then who were you to deny it?

As you lay in your bed, huddled under blankets and your head cushioned by pillows while waiting for the swiftness of sleep to weigh down your eyes, you stared at a couple of pictures now decorating a small cork board hanging above your desk. None of them contained a singular person more present than the others and were all full of various friends and toothy grins. For once, the appearance of black hair and pierced ears didn’t evoke a dull throb in your chest at a future lost, but instead welcomed a feeling of contented nostalgia for memories treasured. When your eyes started to flutter and you sensed that your battle against sleep was coming to an end, the sight of brilliant blue from the corner of one photo held your fading attention and beckoned the prospect of enduring happiness by a relationship newly minted. 

————————————————

A dreary midmorning wasn’t something that could keep you cooped up on a Saturday free of obligation, and in an endeavor to make the most of your spare time, you busied yourself with errands in the city. If you found yourself standing in line outside the building of your favorite sweet shop, you would insist it was only to fill your own belly. Any extras that made it into your bag would surely serve as a snack over the rest of the weekend and not linger in your room in the hopes a certain white-haired man would make an appearance and find them. 

The thought of Satoru had you reaching for your phone as you shuffled another step further in line. You had texted Satoru a simple ‘good morning’ right before leaving your room then promptly threw the device into the bottom of your bag to be forgotten until after your errands. Otherwise, you would have worried yourself beyond what was considered healthy about whether or not that message presumed too much in light of yesterday’s breakthrough. 

Maybe overkill would lend itself to your passions too. 

To your dismay, your phone remained disappointingly devoid of new messages, but the sudden appearance of small raindrops on your screen took your attention before you could waste more time wishing it would flash with Satoru’s name. While the sky looked quite grey in your perusal of it, the drops never fell faster or increased in size while you waited for your turn to step into the shop, and you hoped the weather would stay its course until you returned home. Because you, in your distraction, had forgotten to snag your umbrella as you scurried out the door that morning. Instead of dwelling on your possible misfortune, you gave a cursory glance at the shop’s menu board sitting by the door and when you were nearly halfway through reading it, a shadow came over you. 

“Dessert for breakfast again?” 

You jerked your head towards the familiar voice and came face to face with Satoru. He hovered close enough to you so that the large umbrella he carried could shelter both him and yourself from the faint pattering of rain, and you met his beaming smile with one of your own. 

“Satoru! What are you doing here?” His arrival wasn’t at all expected, but you drank in the sight of him no less, pleased to see him in casual clothes instead of his uniform and sporting a black coat to ward off the last of the morning chill. 

“You know, just out and about,” he offered, and mischievousness made the corners of his mouth twitch. You suspected his eyes would twinkle just the same if you could see them through his blindfold. 

“Right,” you drew out, not quite sure if you believed that he just so happened upon you by chance, but you were too preoccupied with the fact he was standing in front of you again to question it any further. “Are you busy? Or do you have time to join me?” 

He was quick to nod, and you reached out to wrap your hand around his bicep when someone cleared their throat pointedly from behind. You jolted, heat flushing your neck and cheeks when you realized that there was a large gap in between you and the door to the shop, and you scurried forward. Satoru beat you to the door, swinging it open for you before you had a chance, and you ducked in while he sat his umbrella off to the side. 

You came to a stop a reasonable distance from the person in front of you and crossed your arms with a small huff as you pretended to study the variety of different sweets sitting in their display cases. Satoru’s coat brushed against your back as he came up behind you, and you prayed he didn’t notice the shiver that shook your shoulders when he leaned down to whisper right by your ear. 

“Distracted?” he asked, voice deeply flirtatious, and a scent a bit spicier than the mild soap you recall him smelling of wafted to your nose and made your thoughts hazy. 

“Nope,” you said as casually as you could manage, trying your best to make a mental note of what options you wanted to order so that you didn’t look like a bumbling fool when it was your turn. His answering chuckle was not only heard, but felt against your back. 

“You sure about that?” 

You whipped your head to the side to glare at him out of the corner of your eye, and your cheek nearly made contact with the tip of his nose. “Positive.” 

There would never be any certainty with his eyes hidden, but you swore you could feel his gaze on your lips, and if you ignored the thought and turned your attention back to what was in front of you, it was only because there was nothing you could do about it in a crowded little sweets shop. 

Thankfully—begrudgingly—it was your turn to order, and you stepped away from Satoru and approached the counter while taking in a much needed deep breath. He didn’t stray far from you, however, and you were conscious of how he lingered at your side while you ordered a couple things for yourself and one or two for Nanami in exchange for the few times he had bought you something from the bakery. 

You were just about to pay for your portion when Satoru came up and bumped you aside with his hip and a smirk on his face, and you watched with mild horror as the employee set down a bag of sweets nearly bulging in its fullness. 

“You have a problem,” you commented warily, imagining the amount of sugar in that bag alone and feeling phantom pain in your teeth. You eyed Satoru as he placed down his card to pay for both orders. 

“If you say so.” His shrug was light hearted and drenched in boyish charm, and you shook your head at him. Before he could find any more opportunities to indulge random acts of chivalry, you swiped your bag off the counter and made haste for the exit, pausing only to throw a wink over your shoulder as you stepped outside the door. You barely caught his indignant protest as he finished up his transaction but paid it no mind as you bent down to grab his umbrella and trotted off down the sidewalk. You only made it to a cross walk a couple yards down and had to come to a stop before he was jogging up to your side. 

“Rude,” Satoru pouted, sidling up next to you to slip the opened umbrella from your hand. 

“I can’t let people think I willingly associate myself with someone who has the taste buds of a child.” You giggled and snuck your hand in the slim space between his side and his arm to curl your fingers into the crook of his elbow. Something fluttered pleasantly in your belly when the action softened the deepening frown on his face. 

“Not all of us can have such sophisticated palettes,” he grumbled, but you could see the hint of a smile on his cheeks, so you leaned just a little further into his side. The delicate kiss he dropped onto your temple had you choking down any retort you were prepared to give him back, and the two of you stood in shy silence until the traffic signal changed in your favor. 

“Follow me to the school?” you asked, already in motion by the time the words left your mouth, and the answering look Satoru gave you made it clear that he never intended anything else. 

————————————————

Twenty minutes later had the two of you back at the school and seated on Satoru’s coat under the large tree nestled in the corner of the campus training grounds.

“Leave my bag alone,” you hissed, slapping at the wandering hand Satoru kept trying to sneak into your own stash of sweets. 

“I wanted to try one of yours. They’re different,” he whined. He stretched over your lap in an attempt to grab said bag from where you had moved it to your other side, but you stopped his progress with a hand on his chest. You pushed back against him until he was seated again. 

“No, what’s left are mine and the ones I bought for Nanami.”

“Nanami?” he asked in offended disbelief. “And you didn’t think to get any for me?”

“I’m surprised they aren’t already in your bag, Satoru. I think you bought the whole store,” you said, feeling a little sick to your stomach when you took note of the dwindling size of his own purchase. He scoffed in disapproval and hunched down further against the tree the two of you were resting against. His antics had your eyes rolling, but you went ahead and pulled one of your treats out from the bag as you had intended to do before he decided to try and pilfer them on his own. 

“Here,” you told him, feigning the exasperation in your voice. You held the treat out in your hand, expecting him to take it from you with his own, but Satoru—with uncovered eyes gleaming—leaned forward and ate the snack right from your fingers. You had a brief second to register the heat of his lips and the way his teeth had just grazed your skin before he was sitting back with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Tasty,” he said, looking all too pleased with himself, and all you could do was sit there with your heart pounding. The thought of kissing Satoru had been plaguing your mind since even before the two of you had fought, and now, when his lips were flushed pink and there were crystals of sugar caught on a corner of them, you were weak in your resolve. 

You curled your fingers into the neck of his shirt and pulled him in to meet you, eyes already closing so you didn’t scare yourself out of the idea if there was a shocked look on his face. Your lips met his with an urgency, but you were mindful not to clash teeth or press too hard, and you felt marginally better when Satoru knocked his nose against yours in order to tilt his head and deepen the kiss. His chilled fingertips were a shock to your skin when they settled on the edge of your cheek and under your jaw, and he hummed pleasantly into the kiss when he felt you jump. Satoru’s other arm came to wrap around your back, and his fingers dug into your shirt when you used the tip of your tongue to swipe away any remaining sugar on his lips. 

You were vaguely aware of Satoru pressing closer to you, inching you back incrementally, but you were too lost in the feel of his mouth moving against yours and slipping your arms up and around his neck to pay much mind to it. So when you felt yourself falling back against the ground with Satoru’s hand bracing the back of your head it didn’t trigger the urge to stop, especially not when his free hand landed heavily in the dirt next to your head so he could lower himself down and chase after your lips. However, you could only avoid the cold wet of the ground seeping through your collar for so long, not to mention the fact you two were in public, and you ducked your chin slightly to break away from Satoru. 

“It’s unlikely,” you murmured, feeling him trail his mouth over your cheek to press a kiss just below your ear, “but any of our students—or our peers—could walk by at any given moment.” 

The noise of disagreement he made tickled the skin under your ear that he was nibbling at, but you didn’t have to tell him twice before he was pulling away just hair. All you could see above you was white eyelashes framing bright blue eyes, and the tips of his hair tickled your forehead when Satoru lowered himself just a little so he could nudge his nose into your cheek affectionately. 

“You’re not wrong,” he sighed, sitting himself back up and tugging you along with him by your arm. You pat down your hair and brush some dirt from your sleeves while keeping a watchful eye on his expression from your peripheral. Satoru didn’t seem particularly disappointed or upset at your words, but you, in your habit, worried about the implication of them anyway. 

“I’m not embarrassed,” you reassured him, drawing his focus as you hurried to get your thoughts out to him. “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you either, but this is…” you trailed off as words failed you. 

This was new and something precious to you. For the first time in years, you had someone by your side that cared to know everything you thought and longed to be near you. It was all a touch overwhelming to fall for someone you hadn’t ever pictured in a romantic role, and you were eager for the time to understand it fully yourself before allowing others to fix their attention on it. 

“Don’t worry,” Satoru said, and he was cheerful and giddy in the way he smiled while he dragged a finger across the back of your hand. “I feel it too.” 

————————————————

Your burgeoning relationship carried on in secrecy for the next three months. In between classes and training of students, you and Satoru would find yourselves in an obscure hallway or forgotten classroom to share whispers and fleeting touches. It was nothing torrid or salacious as of yet, but everyday you longed for the moments you had alone with him to bask in muffled laughter and give in to lingering kisses that he would pull you into when you would try to leave for the umpteenth time. More than once you caught his head following you as he and the students walked by you on school grounds, and the previous week Kugisaki had commented on how keenly you studied Satoru while he demonstrated a fighting technique to Itadori. 

And now, when the school day was long over and the sun was beginning to set, you felt at ease walking through the door of Satoru’s office door to surprise him with spoils from your day. 

“Knock, knock,” you called out gently, peeking your head around the doorframe to find Satoru already looking up at you, blindfold nowhere to be seen. Fatigue clearly was gnawing at him. His head dropped from where his chin was propped up in his hand, and there was the faintest hint of purple under his eyes. A pen was clasped in his right hand where it rested on a large stack of paperwork, and you took notes of the various others crowding his desk as you walked in. “How are all the reports coming along?” 

Satoru groaned and threw himself back against his chair. “It’s been terrible! I’ve been stuck here finishing these reports since this morning. I didn’t even have lunch!” 

You laughed at his plight as you came to stand next to him and lean back against his desk before pulling a small brown sack from your bag. “Here,” you said, passing it to him, “I got you something while we were out today.” 

His face lit up in excitement ,and he eagerly snatched the bag from your grasp and buried his hand in it to pull out the pastry located inside. “You’re incredible,” he said, pausing to express his gratitude before he shoved half of it into his mouth. 

“You’ll choke one day,” you warned, vaguely impressed when he ate the other half in just as big of a bite. Satoru shook his head, and his grin told you he was proud of himself. 

“Was that from our bakery?” he asked, and you were grateful he had swallowed before speaking. 

“Yup. The first years did so well in training today that Nanami and I decided to end things early and treat them. We ended up running into the third years on the way, so they joined us and we all had a happy time together.” Satoru’s face fell somewhere in the beginning when you started talking, and by the time you were done his mouth was turned down into a full blown frown. 

“Without me?” He pouted, and the sad, puppy-esque face he gave you would have worked if you didn’t know what would be awaiting you if he didn’t finish his reports. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tutted, shaking a finger at him, “you needed to get these done, or else it would have been me taking over the extras and then we would both be miserable.” Satoru scowled, but the sigh he let out was resigned. 

“You’re not wrong.” 

You reached out and ruffled his hair. “Of course I’m not,” you teased, “but I brought you a treat to make up for it.” 

Satoru cocked a brow and stood from his chair so he could take a step towards you. Your lower back was already pressed into the edge of his desk, so you had to crane your head back to meet his eyes. “That’s true,” he said playfully. “You do make everything better.” He closed the space between your chests and the audible hitch in your breathing made him smirk. 

“Cheesy,” you muttered, but exhilaration flowed through you when his hands came up to cradle your jaw and he lowered his head enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your nose. Satoru hummed an amused sound before finally taking your bottom lip between his. You tucked your arms below his so you could fist your hands into the fabric of his uniform as his sides and a fluttering burst into your chest when he started stroking the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs.

It wasn’t wrong to say that Satoru had transfixed you. Everything about him—the way he smelled, the depth of his laugh, how his fingers felt when they danced over your skin—was alluring to you, and you couldn’t help but clutch him closer as your lips moved against his. In response, Satoru’s hands dropped down to grip at your waist, and you let out a noise of surprise in the brief moment your lips disconnected when he lifted you up, only to set you back down on his desk. He was quick to kiss you again, chasing you when you leaned back to make space for him in between your legs.

His hands seemed like they were everywhere at once: between your shoulders to press you into him, cupping your chin to angle it up and allow his lips to ghost over your neck, and then spread over your thighs to grasp and knead. The room was quiet except for the heady exhalations and gasping breaths of the air you shared, and you heard the rustling of paper being scattered as he cleared a spot behind you. 

Somewhere deep in your mind, your brain supplied you with the thought that Satoru’s office was not the ideal first place to do this—to have him. Certainly not as his hand started to sneak under the bottom of your shirt or your fingers toyed with the button on his pants, but every inch of him was plied against you and it would take something monumental to separate—,

“Ahem.” 

As it turned out, your principal clearing his throat outside of the wide open door of Satoru’s office was catastrophic enough for the two of you to spring apart at something close to the speed of light. You propelled yourself off Satoru’s desk to stand rigid at the side of it while turning your head to gawk accusingly at him, because surely the honored one should have sensed Principal Yaga way before he ever arrived. But from the way he immediately dropped straight into his chair to conceal himself from the waist down proved that, astonishingly, Gojo Satoru could be caught unaware. 

 Neither of you three said a word. Principal Yaga eyed you and Satoru with his arms crossed and brow furrowed, and you couldn’t decide whether hurling yourself out of the window behind you would be less painful than the scrutiny coming from the large man at the door. 

“There’s paperwork for this. You two can each get a copy from my office tomorrow,” he said eventually. You were relieved to hear a lack of judgment or disappointment in your principal’s voice and decided you could live with the resigned finality that colored instead. He didn’t offer anything else and had just begun to turn away with a shake of his head and a hand rubbing at his temple when he spun back around suddenly, making you flinch from where you were still rooted next to Satoru’s desk. 

“I want those reports finished and on my desk first thing in the morning, Satoru.” His tone brokered no discussion and—in all the time you’ve known him—you witnessed the loud-mouthed sorcerer at an apparent loss for words. He simply nodded in agreement and then Principal Yaga was gone. 

“Well,” Satoru started slowly, turning to face you in his chair, “I think that makes things official.” His mouth then tilted upwards into an unbothered grin, and he looked at you expectantly. Strained laughter died in your throat. 

“I guess so.” 

————————————————

In an effort to help make up for last week’s incident , Satoru called you midway through the Friday afternoon to, not ask, but summon you for a late night dinner date. In exchange, you got to pick where the two of you would eat and what dessert you would share at the end. It had taken little to no convincing on your part to get you to agree, and when the name of a restaurant in the upscale part of the city near his apartment slipped from your mouth, you were surprised to find that no guilt came along with it. 

Once upon a time, you might have wistfully imagined yourself seated and dined at that particular restaurant with Suguru, as you had told him when the two of you first passed it on the street. However, that daydream never came to fruition, and you refused to let a faded prospect with your long-lost ex-lover get in the way of creating new memories. So, in order to do just that, you took time getting yourself ready and slipped into a new dress before taking a train to the city to meet Satoru. 

The restaurant was everything you expected, and you took in with a small smile the low light atmosphere and your secluded table illuminated with flickering white candles. Waiters bustled to and fro, and the soft plinking of a lounge piano underscored the muffled murmurings of the restaurant’s patrons. You and Satoru talked about anything and nothing as you looked over the menu. The establishment wasn’t overabundant in the options it provided, instead taking great care to provide a few exceptionally well crafted meals, but you still had a difficult time making your decision nonetheless. Satoru offered to select one of the two dishes you went back and forth between for himself so you’d have the opportunity to try it, and while the idea melted your heart into a little puddle, you urged him to pick what he wanted for himself. 

A waiter came by and presented you with an extensive wine list, and while Satoru didn’t partake, he guessed with unbridled enthusiasm at which type you’d choose. His answer had been wrong, but the determined gleam in his eyes told you he’d never again make that mistake. After eventually making up your mind and successfully placing your order, the rest of the dinner flew by. The two of you spent time exchanging bites of each other’s food and sharing stories about the progress of the first year’s training. 

When you were brought the dessert menu, you both leaned over the table towards each other to look over it together, and when the two of you couldn’t decide on just one, you suggested ordering two. Satoru had raised a brow at you, having already heard twice by then how you were too full to have your own dessert and, despite his protest, insisted on sharing one with him. He relented, and you ordered two. When the waiter was out of earshot, you told him in a pointed few words that you had every intention of sharing that second dessert with him as a middle of the night snack. Satoru immediately sat straight in his seat, eyes flashing with heat and want and a whole other amalgamation of emotions that set your blood alight. 

By the time dessert came, you were two minutes shy of snatching the check and hauling him out the door, sweets be damned. But Satoru simply laughed and passed you a spoon while he situated the plate of dessert halfway between you two. When you were two bites in, stomach protesting and your eyes feeling just a bit heavy from the dimness of the restaurant, you tucked your foot under Satoru’s to rest it against his ankle. His answering smile was tender and maybe a little bashful, and while it could’ve been the second glass of wine that caused the stirring in your chest, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was your heart expanding enough to make room for him. 

————————————————

“I want to go there again next week,” you said blissfully, both satisfied from a delicious dinner and feeling relief from the cold floors of Satoru’s apartment on your sore feet. If you never again picked up the heels you had kicked off at his door, it would be too soon. You meandered into his kitchen and plucked a water bottle from his fridge to down in just a few swallows. 

“I suppose we could go back once a week until we finish trying every dessert and dinner option available,” Satoru responded, coming up behind you to curl one arm around your waist and press a kiss into your hair. “Thank you for being my date.” You lifted your arm to reach behind you and drape it around his neck, and he let his mouth glide across the skin that he could touch. 

“Always,” you murmured, and while the implications of the word felt a little heavy and maybe a bit presumptuous for the early stages of your relationship, it didn’t diminish the truth of which you spoke it with. Satoru didn’t seem to have an objection to it and merely pasted every inch of his front against your back. 

“If you’re tired, or if the second glass of wine was too much, I’m happy to lend you a change of clothes and offer you a guest room for the night. We can make breakfast in the morning if you’re willing to supervise.” His laughter tickled your skin, and you were quick to shake your head and turn in his hold.

“No to the guest room, but yes to breakfast.” 

He smiled into the kiss he placed onto your lips and you fisted your fingers into the collar of his shirt in an attempt to keep him against you when he stepped back and nodded in the direction of a hallway. You caught his hand from behind when Satoru turned to walk towards what was presumably his bedroom and held on to it as he led you. He glanced back at you over his shoulder, eyes promising and mouth slightly parted, and when he whirled around completely to tug you through the open door of his room, you caught yourself on his chest and giggled. 

While Satoru busied himself with nuzzling his lips against the curve of your shoulder and fiddling with the various clasps and a zipper at the back of your dress, you peeked around his arm to study the vastness of his bedroom. It was as expertly put together as the rest of his home, but still mostly lacking in its signs of life. The high beamed ceiling and towering window framed by lush dark curtains created a feeling of openness, but the plush comforter on his bed and the stone fireplace set across from it helped cultivate a sense of coziness. You spied his uniform draped over the back of a chair nestled under a desk, and a thrill went through when the computer sitting atop it flashed a screensaver familiar to you—the picture of your dessert from the cafe a thousand miles away. 

You had the mind to ask Satoru about it, but before you could he was peeling your dress off your shoulders and down your arms. His eyes flicked up to yours in silent permission and it only took a subtle dip of your chin before he was pushing it the rest of the way down your torso, and you squirmed when his fingers danced over your ribs in a way that tickled. Hands started to move in a hurry after that point. Yours flew to the buttons of his shirt while his traveled up your arms to cup your cheeks so he could kiss you again. When you divested him of the fabric concealing his chest, seeing it land in a flutter next to your dress on the floor, you immediately started in on his belt, taking pleasure in the stuttered breath Satoru let out above you when you yanked on it in your efforts to get it off. 

As soon as he stepped out his pants, Satoru was turning you to the bed and he just barely caught himself above you when the two of you fell back against it. You grinned up at him as you shuffled up towards the pillows, and he followed obediently to settle between your legs when you opened them for him. It wasn’t until Satoru had already shimmed your underwear off your legs and did the same to himself did you feel a prickle of nervousness in your belly at the sight of him. There had been a few others in the time between Suguru and now, but they all had blended into faceless bodies and blurred memories of dark bedrooms, none ever so important that you bothered to recall them in times of loneliness. But this—Satoru—would be different, and you had only ever known one other man in such a deeper level of intimate feelings.

“Comparing me to someone?” The sarcastic quip from Satoru reclaimed your attention and nearly had you leaving the bed altogether, but the hidden undercurrent of vulnerability in his voice kept you under him. One day, the two of you would have a discussion about appropriate boundaries and how to express one’s emotions with proper words, but for now, you would reassure him that he would not have to spend his entire life worrying that he would never be enough for you. 

“No,” you said pointedly, cocking an eyebrow at him, and he actually looked chagrined. “I was actually thinking about how you were longer than I expected.” You punctuated your words by reaching down and wrapping your hand around him, and all the air rushed out of his lungs in a forceful exhale. It wasn’t a lie on your part. Where Suguru had been impressive in his width, Satoru excelled in his length, but that wasn’t any of his particular business. 

“I always thought you’d wear some expensive cologne everyday,” you continued in a whisper, tightening your grip around him until he sagged against your chest and let out a low moan in your ear, “but you smell faintly of clean scented soap and that surprised me.” You trailed the hand not currently occupied over the ridges of his spine and had to bite at your lip when Satoru shuddered against you. “Your skin doesn’t run as hot as I imagined it would, but I don’t mind it.” 

He chuckled a bit at that, and the breathless sound of it made you shiver. In a strained voice he asked, “anything else?” You let out a questioning hum, feigning your need to contemplate the idea, and Satoru nipped at your neck in retaliation. 

“Okay, okay!” you squealed, wriggling under him as he continued his assault up over your ear before replacing them with soft kisses over your cheek. “Your hair feels as soft as it looks and not a day goes by that I don’t think about running my fingers through it.” To emphasize your point, you raked your nails over his scalp and a pleased grumble sounded low in his chest. You debated sharing your next thought with him, but he was searching your eyes in a way that was a little desperate and heart wrenching, so you obliged. 

“The night of that failed date, right before we fought,” you began quietly, tracing your finger over Satoru’s cheek and the bridge of his nose, “I spent the whole time wishing it had been you.” 

The admission must have taken him off guard because his eyes widened and a pink flush took over his cheeks. His chest brushed more firmly against your breasts as his breathing accelerated in the slightest, and you reached up to nudge the tip of your nose against his. You didn’t bother waiting for his reply, and arched your hips upwards to grind them against his, this time you both let out echoing moans. Much of what came next happened in blurs of frenzied movement; his hand slipping between your legs and moving about in a way that had you throwing your head back into his pillows until his room was filled with the sound of you chanting Satoru’s name. When you were breathless and panting, he trailed back up your body with his lips straying to the dip of your waist, the curve of your breast, and then back to your mouth. 

When he finally made space for himself inside you and pulled your thigh higher over his hip, all you could do was grasp at his back and grip at his arms while he murmured your name into the crook of your neck. His movements stole your breath and overwhelmed any other thoughts in your head, but you didn’t mind how much room Satoru took up. Not when his fingers traced your features in delicate awe and wonder, and not when he had you calling his name in response to the sudden burst of warmth that poured over you a second and third time before he followed in kind. 

Satoru rolled the two of you over when your chests were still heaving and limbs were trembling, wrapping you up tightly in the breadth of his arms so you could rest your cheek just under his collarbone while he whispered soft affirmations and praises in your ear. You decided then, when he was still nestled inside you and spoke excitedly of a midnight snack in a plastic to-go bag and of shared breakfast in the morning that Gojo Satoru would never be too much for you. 

————————————————

When Satoru blinked awake, the first thing he noticed was the calmness with which he came out of sleep. His skin wasn’t slicked with sweat, nor were his blankets tangled around his legs. He hadn’t thrashed into consciousness, tormented by an endless loop of nightmares filled with his dead best friend’s face or your vehement ire. Instead, his eyes opened drowsily to take in the blue-black of twilight peeking through his curtains and became instantly aware of the sound of rhythmic breathing to his left. You slept soundly on your side facing away from him, but with your back pressed against his arm. Satoru let out a long breath, feeling more rested than he had in months, but he was in no hurry to find his way out of bed and away from you. In an attempt to coax his mind back into slumber, he shifted onto his side and wiggled down into the bed until he could snuggle his face against the back of your neck. You made a sleepy noise of annoyance when he wrapped his arm around your hips to pull you against him, but you didn’t wake and Satoru sighed in contentment before letting his eyes fall closed.

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I hope y'all enjoyed this sweetness as much as I did!

The next chapter with be the last, but will not be nearly as long and will wrap things up and give a happy ending to our couple. I'm excited to share it will y'all soon<3

Have a good weekend!

Taglist: @paprikaquinn & @kafanizdakicokiyi

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Silent Hearts // [Part V]

Pairing | Cowbell x reader

Word count | 3.6k

⚠️ Warnings | Canon divergence, f!reader, Y/N is used. Ghouls locked in cages. Talk of ghoul mates. Sister Imperator is a bitch. Should be okay otherwise? TW for a very brief mention of blood? Lots of backstory in this one....

Chapter Summary: You decide to ignore Mountain's warning and sneak off back to the cemetery to confront Felix. However, you end up finding answers in the most unlikely of places... [pt.2]

A/N: Posting early cause I have it finished - happy early Ghostober fellow Ghesties!

This is part 2 continuing on from where we left off. LOOOTS of lore for Felix in this one. I'm sorry, I hope it's interesting. After this will be some much needed fluff okay? I promise! xoxo

[Prev][Next]

“No need to be afraid, little one. I am no one to fear.” 

The male voice spoke calmly as metal chains scraped against the ground, signalling the creature's movement. “Come closer, I cannot see you.”

“N-No thanks,” you stuttered, about ready to bolt for the door. Felix said I’d be safe down here, the fucking liar. You were about to die and it’s all his fault. Maybe he really did hate you?

“You’re injured. I can help.” It spoke.

Your brow furrowed as you looked down at your leg. The blood was now starting to pool in small areas along your thigh, causing it to seep through the fabric of your pants. “How did–?”

“I can smell it,” he explained. “The blood.”

You didn’t know whether to be scared or utterly terrified. But against your better judgement you grabbed the candle that was flickering on the wooden desk and very slowly ventured into the darkness. It only took a couple steps to notice the back half of the room was full of iron bars which stood from the floor to ceiling in square like formations, much like small unfinished rooms. Although, upon closer inspection they seemed awfully small to be anything more than closets at best.

Who in their right mind puts closets in the middle of–?

Your stomach dropped. These weren’t meant to be rooms or closets…

These were cages. 

Most of the empty holding cells were dust covered, much like the boxes you had just been sorting through, with the doors left agape. As if they were waiting to welcome their next victim. The bars themselves had begun to rust, metal flakes threatening to float away at the slightest gust of wind, yet you knew they were still more than capable of doing their job. The only recent occupants of these cells had been the rats who had scurried away as soon as the light from your candle illuminated the ground, disrupting their hiding place.

You couldn’t help the involuntary look of disgust that crossed your face as you saw them run away before you suddenly felt like you were being watched.

“They really aren’t so bad once you get to know them,” the same voice said, but projecting much louder now you had gotten closer to where he was hiding.

You turned your head in the direction of where you heard him speak, cursing the candle for not lighting more than a foot in front of you. Being so far underground meant you didn’t have the luxury of windows to allow the moonlight in, silently protecting you from the things you couldn’t see. Down here, the dark was in charge. As well as whatever lurked within it.

“How much further?” You turned to look back to the entrance you came through, the once bright area around the desk now seemed dim as the darkness curled around you with each step you took further into the room.

“A few steps, little one.” You could almost hear the smirk in the creature's voice. “You are very brave. An admirable trait, yet also a stupid one.”

You halted after his last words hit your ears, now seeing the outline of the last cage which was facing towards you. All the others had been placed along either side of the room, with doors opening outwards to outline the path. However the furthest cell was straight ahead, which marked the end of the road. You noticed this door wasn’t open like the others either. It was locked, bound in chains with wards etched in red and white chalk over the metal bars.

Whatever, or whoever was in there, clearly was never supposed to get out.

You took an anxious gulp as the chains clanked and scraped again, this time very audible. So audible that you could tell it came directly from the back left corner of the cell. 

When you worked up enough courage to look in that direction, you were met with two piercing blue eyes which stared right back at you. The glow of them almost held you in a trance before the metal of his shackles got caught in deep claw marks etched into the concrete at his feet.

It wasn't until now that you noticed this cell wasn’t like the others. The other pens you passed by had dirt floors. Which led you to believe the Clergy knew he was here, and modified this particular chamber just for him.

“Do not be afraid, I cannot hurt you.” The creature spoke with that calm patience he always had. You gulped as you stared at the damaged floor. 

“W-Was that you?” You whispered, fear seeping into every syllable.

“No, child. That was not me,” he spoke moving closer to the thin iron bars that separated you. “However, you know who did this. Someone dear to you.”

Your mind raced as you bent down to study the marks closer. They were like an angry animal's talons that cut straight through the ground. “Did Felix do this?” You muttered to yourself, your own fingers itching to trace over them.

The creature simply chuckled, “No. Try again.”

He was the only ghoul you knew that was supposedly capable of something like this. So, if it wasn’t Felix, no one else could’ve…

Mountain?

The creature’s amused laughter rumbled off the walls as he heard your breath hitch in realization. “Indeed.”

You didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t. But you had to admit, having a single cell lined with concrete for an Earth ghoul made a bit too much sense. No one in their right mind would try to hold one of them against their will, in a cage built on the very thing they were born to control.

No one in their right might should be trying to trap a ghoul in a cell at all.

While your thoughts raced, you didn’t notice the strange creature had snuck up on you. He was now sitting in front of where you had knelt, successfully giving you quite a fright as his hooded figure was now mere inches away from you.

You jumped and shuffled away, dropping the candle by the bars of the cage in your hurry to create a safer distance. The creature simply extended a long clawed hand through the bars to grab the metal candle holder and pass it back through. Even with the little bit of light it gave off and the candle held so close to him, there was nothing you could see that resembled anything like a face. With the exception of the amused glint you noticed in his two, glowing blue eyes, which had been studying the tiny flame, there was nothing but a pit of darkness under his hood.

“Please, excuse my poor manners. It has been many years since I have interacted with your kind,” he spoke, setting the candle on the ground and turning back to you. “Or anyone, really.”

While your brain was thoroughly spooked, the flickering candlelight helped to make out some features of who exactly you were talking to. He was a ghoul, that much you knew for certain. Dressed in a long black robe which looked to be from Primo’s era. What you hadn't noticed before in your frightened state, was the chain wrapped tightly around his neck. It connected at his waist to another that trailed behind him, much like a harness with a leash. 

As your eyes followed the thicker chain, you noticed this one was not like the rest. In the corner of his cell, you saw what you could only describe as an anchor. Much like you would find off of a ship - and it had to be a large vessel at that, to warrant the size of the spade donning the end.

They had chained the poor ghoul to an anchor. 

It was clearly used as well. You could see the metal had rusted and warped much like it would if submerged underwater for a great period of time. What had happened to this ill-fated ghoul? Who was he?

The creature followed your gaze as you took in his situation. “Don’t worry, it’s not as uncomfortable as it looks.” He tried to joke, but that didn’t change the fact that you were absolutely horrified.

“This is barbaric!” You exclaimed.

“Living up to my name, that’s all this is.” He said, too nonchalantly for your liking. How could he be so okay with this?

“This is all because of your name?” You trailed off in confusion.

He nodded, “Chain. My name is Chain, and you shall call me as such.”

Chain. The ghoul that disappeared?

“Yes, that is me you think of. I did not disappear, the Clergy put me down here out of fear.”

You tried to remember what you had overheard during your first few months at the Ministry. Ghouls were always a topic of conversation for many reasons, both good and bad. “The Clergy said you went feral and killed people, Siblings.” 

“I did no such thing!” His voice boomed angrily, almost cutting you off as it echoed around the empty room. “That is a lie!”

You said nothing, not wishing to anger the ancient ghoul any more than you already had. You both took a breath as he shifted to sit in a more comfortable position. Rolling his shoulders trying to ease the tension.

“I was important once. Feared for the right reasons, but never cruel.” He continued, his voice now closer to his normal, calmer resonance. “I assume Felix feels the same. Alas, he chose the better option. He gets to be free while his actions have damned me never to see the light of day.”

Your head snapped up at the mention of Felix’s name. Chain knew Felix? More importantly - Chain knew him as Felix?

“You know him?”

The ghoul named Chain smiled, fangs poking through that void of darkness which sat cloaked underneath his hood.

“Know him? Little one, we were once kings.” He puffed his chest, his head rolling back as he revered the memory. Anticipating your keen interest, he continued his story. “We were once at the hands of Lucifer himself, made to be the Devil’s personal guard you see. We were built for pure destruction. Unbridled in our abilities to inflict pain upon those he deemed necessary. One day, as fate would have it, the first of the bloodline would call upon his first summon.” 

Primo.

 “Lucifer was delighted to hear of the eldest brothers’ effort to spread his unholy words. When he heard Primo’s call, summoning us to the surface, the Dark Lord chose me to pave the way. Gifting the brother his finest soldier. And being the loyal demon I am, of course I saw it as a blessing.”

He paused to gauge your reaction, only to find your undivided attention. 

“When the day finally came and the portal was open, I was happy to have been chosen. Eager to complete the unholy task I had been given. Felix did not feel the same. He saw it as the Dark One labelling him incapable. And in his streak of rebellion, he abandoned his post by Lucifer's side and jumped through along with me.”

This was absolutely insane. Ghouls were extremely loyal, almost to a fault. And yet, Felix turned his back on Lucifer himself. His creator. You didn’t think that was even possible?

“While he was adjusting to the surface, Felix tried to be good. It was amiable really. To see a ghoul never built with the intention of being compassionate, try so hard to be liked and fit in. The rest of the pack knew he was strange, but none of them knew him like I did. I knew the grudge he held. I never got to tell him that I was only chosen because Lucifer wanted him by his side. Felix was always the better fighter, more ruthless and cunning than I could ever be. He was Hell’s perfect soldier. I was sent to the surface so our dark father wasn’t left without his greatest defender. And yet here we stand.”

You didn’t know what to say. Never in your life did you imagine this was Felix’s story.

“I bet you’re wondering where you fit into all of this.” The ghoul prompted, which earned him a nod. You didn’t trust your voice to speak just yet.

“How much do you know about ghoul mates, little one?” He asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“I know you guys have them, but I don’t know anything specific.” You answered honestly.

Chain just hummed and you could see his hood shift as he nodded in contemplation. “Normally, it’s written within our DNA. A ghoul’s mate is like a soulmate of the highest degree. Not bound by your frail human emotions, they are tied to our very being. Our mates are our lifeline, one cannot exist without the other. So, when you find one it’s very special. And you my dear, are his.”

You’re pretty sure you heard your heart stop.

“He will never admit it to you as it’s forbidden, which is why I am telling you this now, but it goes far beyond that. See, when ghouls are chosen for the Devils guard, we are denied such ‘pleasantries’ in order to make sure our allegiances do not waver. That is why we are not blessed with the ability to produce kits, or have mates. Lucifer decides who is to be a ghoul’s other half, so he purposely leaves it out of our genetic makeup.” 

He paused as you rubbed at your temples. This was so overwhelming. 

“But you just said I was his mate? How does he have one if he… doesn’t have one?”

“Ahh, now you are asking the right questions. I am very proud.” Chain genuinely smiles as he notices you subconsciously move closer in intrigue. “We ghouls are all pawns in the Devil’s little game. When Felix defected, he ultimately called himself king. And of course Lucifer did not like that one bit. If I know my master well, the timing of your situation is quite deliberate. For how else could he punish Felix if not by giving him the one thing he can’t have? Not because of the Clergy’s rules, but because you are human. You will die, and he will not.” His voice grows more sinister by the second. “We mate for life, dear one. You may not realize it but Lucifer is dangling you in front of him like a carrot on a string. If Felix’s actions in the Pit were to be his crime, living without you is to be his life sentence.”

Checkmate.

Your head snapped around to the sudden commotion at the entrance of the room. There stood Sister Imperator and Alpha, who had Mountain whining and pinned by the ear. It looked like he had put up a bit of a fight before they got here.

“And it’s one which we plan on expediting. Thank you Chain, your distraction told us everything we needed to know. You will be rewarded accordingly.” Sister Imperator spoke, her voice laced with venom.

You heard the water ghoul quietly thank the Mother Superior and shrink back into the darkness of his cell as you stood to go check on Mountain.

“Mountain? What did he do? He has done nothing wrong!” You tried to reason on his behalf, which only earned you a snarl from Alpha as you got too close. All he had told you was that Felix was his cousin and warned you to stay away from him. Surely that didn’t warrant all of this. He tried to follow the rules!

“Alpha, please. The girl is allowed to have questions.” The Sister spoke. “My dear it came to my attention that you are in violation of the terms regarding a certain ghoul’s banishment? And as such, the punishment is unfortunately clear.”

She had picked up the old scroll which held the terms and rules of Felix’s situation. You silently cursed yourself for tossing it aside earlier as you read the appropriate punishment.

Death.

Your eyes went wide as you backed up a step. Chain hadn’t told you about that tiny detail.

“It’s a shame that you’ll be joining your friends in the cemetery so soon, but I’m sure they would be happy to welcome a familiar face.” She said without too much fervor, as if none of what was happening held any more weight than deciding whether to have turkey or ham at dinner. Meanwhile your brain was in overload.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to tell them–”

“Shut it.” Alpha snapped as Mountain whined in pain, the fire ghoul’s hot fingertips singeing the middle flesh of his ear.

“Let's go, my dear. Best not to delay the inevitable, it just makes it worse.” The sister smiled and held out her hand, much like a teacher would a child.

You couldn’t even grasp words by the time you reached the top of the steps. It was like everything was moving in slow motion. The next thing you knew, you were standing back outside, facing the very cemetery you were about to be the newest resident of. 

You didn’t notice how Mountain kept pleading for your forgiveness as he was dragged alongside you. Or the way the Sister was trying to comfort you, and explaining that none of this was your fault. ‘You’re just a pawn on the wrong side of an unfortunate game’. 

And sometimes one must sacrifice a pawn to save the rook.

You looked out over the hill at the stars. At least your last night on this Earth was going to be a beautiful one. You just stood there for as long as you could, trying to bring back every happy memory you ever had; gardening with Mountain, singing karaoke with Copia, experiencing Primo’s famous sermons.

I guess the devil wants me back sooner than I thought. I hope I’ve served him well.

You were startled out of your daydream by a voice snarling angrily from the darkness.

“She’s not going anywhere, so I suggest you let her go.”

The tall shadowy figure got closer with every step until the exterior lights of the Abbey illuminated his face for everyone to see.

Felix.

“Ah, ghoul.” The Sister spoke, her body language instantly shifting to a more nervous stance as she attempted to remain in control. Clearly their last meeting had hit its mark. “You know the rules. They are written–”

“Don’t patronize me, Woman. I know the rules very well, I was there when they were fucking written.” He growled and glared at Alpha who had shifted his duties to restrain you at some point during the last few minutes. The ghoul’s strong arm had wrapped around your collar bone and began to tighten with every step Felix took.

“The rules stated anyone who was my mate had to die, yes?” Felix said pointedly, to which the Sister nodded in agreement. “Y/N never agreed to be my mate, nor did she know what that even meant until now. Unless things have changed, we never completed the mating ritual and she doesn’t bear my mark. Therefore she is not my mate, officially anyway, and the rules have not been broken.”

You were so relieved to see him. You worried he was actually mad at you before, but now you know he was just trying to protect you. And if you were being honest, having him defend your life so aggressively right now was kind of a turn on? 

You locked eyes with Felix and it took everything in you not to scream at the strange feeling of his voice filling your head.

Crouch down and run.

You didn’t have to think twice before doing exactly that. You added a good stomp to Alpha’s foot for good measure and slipped under the ghouls weakened grasp before running straight to Felix. 

Alpha recovered quickly and took a hasty step to chase after you before squaring off with Mountain, who was at least 5 inches taller and had already wrapped roots around the fire ghoul’s ankle to keep him firmly in place. At least for a short while.

Once you were safely wrapped in Felix’s arms, his scent brought you an overwhelming sense of peace and safety. You decided you never wanted to be apart from him ever again, Clergy’s stupid rules be damned. The feeling of you pressed into his chest and not literally running for your life like he had implied made his brow lift in amusement. 

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but this works too.” He chuckled, still keeping a close eye on the three people behind you.

The Sister was at a loss for words. How did he know what was going on? How did he know where to find them so fast? How did this all go so, so wrong?

Mountain stood defensively between the pair as Felix turned to lead you away from this mess and assuming back to his den. His cousin might have been psychotic and unworthy to the rest of their kind, but who was he to deny Felix the chance of even a few short years with a mate he was never supposed to have? 

As soon as the Earth ghoul knew of the Sister’s plans, he immediately enlisted the help of the groundskeeper to send word to his cousin, and prayed he wasn’t too late. Mountain knew the old man had made close ties with Felix over the years and was the best shot of getting any sort of message to him.

As Felix led you away from the Abbey and back to the safety of his nest, you looked back at Mountain and smiled, whispering a ‘Thank you’ as he watched you disappear into the night. Even if you were tucked under the arms of the enemy.

[Next]

...

Taglist: @cyra-aa @plethora-of-imagines @pandasleepy07

[ariundercovers]

A Fork in the Road (When Paths Cross, Pt II-Javi Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: The next morning. Chucho, water, and a promise.

Chapter Warnings: explicit 18+ graphic descriptions of sexual acts, fingering, hand jobs, mutual masturbation, Chucho being a Little Shit, Javi being a needy demon, spanish nicknames, idk what else its honestly pretty chill

a/n: Huge shoutout to my spouse who assisted me GREATLY with the Chucho/Javi/Reader breakfast dialogue. There was so much I wanted to convey there and it required a lot of finesse. He was instrumental in getting it there.

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (I) HERE

NEXT PART (III) HERE

You wake up in nearly the same position you fell asleep in, minus one large man behind you that you’re not entirely sure whether you imagined or not. As you blink your bleary eyes open, you recognize finally that you’re not in your apartment, and certainly not in your own bedroom. 

Oh, right. So… it wasn’t a dream, afterall.

You stretch your limbs out wide for a long moment, sitting up onto your forearms just as the door is opening. You pray that it’s not Chucho, and thank fuck, it isn’t. It’s Javi, holding two mugs of coffee. He smiles at you and hands you one that seems to already have cream in it.

“Seemed like the cream-and-sugar kind of gal. If I’m wrong, I’ll take that one and fix this one up for you however you like.” You smile widely back at him and bring the cup to your lips, the smell alone waking you up a bit.

“No, this is perfect, Javi. Thank you.” He nods, perches on the edge of the bed, and watches you as you sip the coffee in your hands. “Is Chucho up yet?”

“No, too early still. Why? Worried about him seeing you?” You shrug in response, not wanting to admit it, but you know he’s right. 

“Alright. You’ve got two options. You can run out of here quickly before he sees you, or you can stay and suffer through it so I can make you a proper breakfast.”

You smile softly and look up at him from where your face is buried in the mug. “And what’s your take on a proper breakfast, exactly?”

“Pancakes and scrambled eggs. It’s about all I can make, so that’s your highest offer.” 

You laugh in response and sip your coffee once more. “Yeah. That sounds perfect, actually. I’ll stay.” You’re a pair of consenting adults, anyway. What does it really matter if Chucho finds out? You’re not a teenager, and he’s not your dad. 

Except, he really has been like a father to you since you got here. You’re certain Javi wouldn’t lie about whether or not Chucho would be mad about it, though, so you do your best to let it roll over you and move along. 

Javi nods back at you with a little lopsided grin on his face and stands up, brushing off his jeans briefly.  Then he’s taking a few steps to close the distance between you and leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll get started then. Join me whenever you want. And feel free to grab a shirt, or sweatpants, or whatever you want from my dresser if it's more comfortable. Open invitation.” You watch him as he leaves, bringing the coffee to your lips again as you sigh. 

This is not how you expected your weekend to start out. 

Half of a coffee mug and one quick clothing change later, you find yourself plodding into the kitchen from down the hall, one of Javi’s t-shirts pulled over your head and your coffee, half-drunk, safely held in two hands. Javi is, as he said he would be, diligently working on making a mess of the kitchen. You can’t help but smile at the easiness of it, setting your mug down on the table.

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head ‘no,’ but doesn’t turn to you as he continues. “Never. I’m making breakfast for you, not with you.” He turns then and smirks at seeing you in one of his shirts - it sets off a pang of possessiveness in his chest that comes out of nowhere. “Done soon, promise.”

You sit and watch him for a few more minutes, the domesticity granting you a peacefulness that you haven’t often felt since moving here. You watch him move back and forth from the fridge to the stove, eventually making up two plates of food and bringing them over to set one in front of each of you.

“Thank you for this, Javi, it’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just tryin’ to treat you right. Plus, Chucho would kill me if he found out I sent you out of here without some food in your belly.” You chuckle at that, as you can imagine it easily. Chucho does always seem to have a touch of a temper, and a keen ability to push Javi’s buttons with expert technique, as he demonstrated last night. He’s also strangely protective of you, for a reason you can’t quite place.

“Thank you, anyway. I appreciate it. And the coffee. And the shirt, actually.” You offer him a genuine smile and then turn to your plate, digging into the array he’s laid out for you. It’s shockingly well-made, which only surprises you because you can’t really picture him as much of a home chef.

You’re both working your way through your plates when you hear the floorboards creaking down the hallway and your head snaps in the direction of Chucho’s room. Your head turns just in time for him to emerge from his room, one brow quirked up at you as he makes immediate eye contact.

Ah. So that eyebrow is genetic, in fact. 

You shoot him an uneasy smile as you feel a heat rise to your cheeks, a bit embarrassed at being caught. You can’t help it - it feels like being caught by your own father.

“Mornin’, Pops.”

“Javier,” he responds, deadpan, looking Javi directly in the eye. The heat in your cheeks deepens as Chucho walks over to the stove, starting to fix himself a plate, as well. You and Javi sit in a stunned silence, bodies rigid with the palpable tension between you all. Chucho sighs, still facing the oven, and adds, “so… we’re having breakfast as well as dinner, now?” 

You can’t see it, but he has a smirk that rivals Javi’s on his face as he speaks. You snort, placing your coffee mug down before addressing him directly. 

“How could I resist a home-cooked meal from Javi himself?”

He turns with his plate now full, and heads toward the two of you. You can see the smile on his face as he walks up behind Javier. “I hope his cooking doesn’t scare you off of our standing dinner dates.”

Javi looks over at you with a wicked smirk and replies, “Oh no, I am certainly countin’ on those to continue,” and then, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Chucho is smacking him in the head, cursing him under his breath. Javi rubs at the back of his head instinctually with a nervous chuckle and Chucho takes a seat at the head of the table, eyes darting back and forth between you two for a moment. 

“Listen, I’m not one to get in the way of things. Treat each other right and I’ve got no opposition. We’re all adults here.” 

You heave out a sigh of relief, grateful for the confirmation that he isn’t actually upset with you. You were feeling like a teenager getting caught red-handed with a pack of condoms by your parents.

“You got it, Pops,” Javi responds, and you turn to offer him a gentle look before shifting your attention back to your plate. Something warm blooms in your chest as you consider the exchange.

The three of you finish eating in a comfortable silence before Chucho excuses himself to go off and start the day’s work on the ranch. Javi takes your plate to the sink and when he comes back, he holds his hand out for yours, helping you out of your chair. You walk back to his room together and you start to gather up your things quickly, feeling once again like you’ve overstayed your welcome somehow. Plus, you need to get home and take a shower, brush your teeth, all the things you usually would have done by this point in the morning

“Muñeca, what’s the rush for?” Your head pops up to look at Javi, propped up against the edge of his desk with one foot crossed over the other. You take a deep breath before you respond.

“Just feel like I need to get out of your hair. Also, I need to change, and shower, and brush my teeth, and all the other stuff I do in the morning.” Shrugging, you go back to gathering your things, but you hear him shift and then in just a few steps bring his body within such close of a distance you think you can feel his body heat through the air between you. He tucks a finger under your chin and lifts, forcing you to stand upright as he tugs your head into alignment so that he can look into your eyes.

“At least half of those things, you can do here, instead. Don’t really want to let you go just yet, darlin’.” You’re lost to his gaze, blinking up at him with wide eyes. 

“And what are you suggesting, Javi?” He leans down and brushes your lips with his, pulling you into a much tighter embrace as his other hand snakes its way around your hips.

“You said you need a shower, didn’t you? Then shower with me, muñequita. We’ve got running water, too.” You giggle slightly, leaning up just enough to peck him on the lips.

“Well… since you put it like that…” Your hands find their way to his waist, fingers catching in his belt loops as you tug, trying to pull his hips in, against yours. His hand shifts from your chin to wrap into your hair at the back of your head, tugging lightly to expose your neck, where he promptly attaches his lips and teeth to. You groan, letting your head loll to the side as you close your eyes and let him lavish you with the attention of his mouth.

He pulls you toward the door, breaking apart only long enough to lead you straight across the hallway and into the bathroom. He sets you back against the countertop, arms caging you in as he leans in for a much softer kiss than the ones you’ve shared so far. It makes your head spin, twists your insides into a knot, and short circuits your brain for a moment.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, pupils blown out wide and mouth hanging open as you gape up at him. His lips twist into a mischievous smile as he stares at you, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt, still tugged tightly onto your upper body. He eases it over your head, dropping it onto the counter, and reaches for your jeans, deftly unfastening them so you can shimmy them down your body, as well. His shirt comes off, then, his own belt and jeans, and suddenly you’re standing in front of each other in just your underwear.

Javi turns to turn on the shower, letting the water heat up while he puts his hands all over you - sliding up and down your torso, chest, and ass. Gripping the meat of your ass tightly in two large palms, he presses your hips into his again and you can feel his nearly hard cock jabbing into your hip.

“See what you do to me, muñeca? All it takes is looking at you.” You smile back at the praise and run your hands along his arms, winding them around behind his neck as he leans in to kiss you. He checks the temperature of the water quickly and then leads you in, holding your hand as you step over the tub edge and under the spray. You have to admit, it feels nice, and it’s even nicer when he steps in front of you and floods your vision with the broad expanse of his naked torso.

You take your time washing one another, lathering and scrubbing and rinsing in tandem as your hands work all along each other’s skin. It’s such a basic but intimate action that it makes your heart swell to be able to do it, and sets off a pang in your chest when you remember you just met this man last night.

How in the world did he have you falling so head over heels already?

Organically, your gentle scrubbing and lathering hands turn slowly into more sensual touches. Javi’s fingers reach for your ass and inner thighs, hitching one of your legs up into the crook of his elbow. 

“Let me feel you, baby,” he drawls, head dipping to mouth at your throat as his fingertips tease at your wet folds. You push your hips into his hand in response and his middle finger finds your clit, drawing little circles around it as you moan softly. 

“Fuck, Javi, okay.” Your hands shift then, one moving to rest on his chest as the other reaches for his cock, settling in a loose fist at the base as you start to stroke him with a matching intensity to his lazy circles on your clit. He groans into you ear and presses his finger a little more directly before sliding it down to your entrance and pressing in. His thumb finds your clit again and you can’t help the little whine you let out in response. 

“Love all those little sounds you give me, muñequita. Every one of them goes straight to my cock.” He chuckles, nipping at your throat and then your jaw as he pumps his finger in and out of you, eventually adding a second finger. Your strokes along his length quicken, squeezing tighter and adding a little twist to it each time you make your way back up to the head. He moans deeply right into your ear and your eyes close softly, lost in the feeling of it.

With your back pressed up against the cool tile of the shower and the heat of his body pressed against you, it’s not long before he has you shattering into oblivion for him, cumming hard on his fingers as he works you right through your orgasm. As soon as you’re back in your own body a bit, your focus shifts to getting him off, hand diligently stroking his cock, thumb swiping over the reddened tip, until he’s cumming too, shooting bright white streaks all across your belly. 

You giggle a little bit and he lets go of your leg as you stand. “I think this shower served the opposite purpose. Now I need to wash myself all over again.” He offers a chuckle as he eases you back to standing, breath still heaving in and out. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you with that, promise. But give me a minute.” He leans in to kiss you again, though this time is totally different than the way he kissed you against the counter. it’s slow, sweet, gentle, even, his hands rubbing soothing circles over your skin. 

When Javi pulls away, he reaches up for the shower head and bring it between the two of you, rinsing off your stomach and himself with the warm water before replacing it and grabbing the soap. Just as he said he would, he carefully lathers you both up before directing you back under the spray and then himself. His lips find yours once more before he winks at you.

“Ready? I’ll give you a new shirt and stop holding you hostage here when we get out. Promise.” Another quick kiss from Javi lets him reach around you and turn off the spray, then turning and helping you back out of the tub. He steps out himself and gathers up two towels, wrapping one around your shoulders before he towels off his hair and his own body.

You take your time drying off and dressing, pausing every once and a while to offer each other gentle kisses and easy smiles. Things between you feel almost too easy, too natural. Togetherness comes to the two of you like second nature. If you knew any better, you’d probably be unnerved by it all, but you don’t, so you soak it in, instead.

Javi leads you back across the hall and, as promised, offers you a clean shirt and a peck on the cheek. He gets himself dressed and helps you gather your things, walking you out into the living room, where Chucho is back from feeding the animals and sitting in his leather chair for a few minutes of rest. Javi leads you to the front door, unlocking it and opening it for the two of you to walk out.

Chucho looks over to you with that signature eyebrow quirk and pipes in, “Same time next week?” You let out a little nervous laugh and you can feel the telltale searing heat work its way back into your cheeks.

“Yeah. Same time next week,” you respond, even more heat blooming in your cheeks, and Javi leads you out of the house. He walks you the whole way to your car with a gentle hand at your lower back, leading you along until you’re at the driver side door and he’s pressing your back up against it, leaning into you.

“I had so much fun with you, muñequita,” he whispers into your ear before nipping lightly at your earlobe. “Thank you.”

That same heat which had only just started to dissipate rises to your cheeks again, and a breath catches in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him with a small groan and smile back at him. 

“I did, too, Javi. you don’t have to thank me.” He shoots back a matching smile and lifts your chin to press a sweet kiss onto your lips. 

“Well, I’m thanking you anyway.” He pauses for a beat before he continues. “What do you think about dinner later this week, just the two of us? Or lunch. Anything you want. No Pops invited.” Your smile grows wider as his thumb brushes gently along your cheekbone.

“Yeah? I’d like that a lot, actually.” 

He kisses you one more time before taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets so he isn’t tempted to keep taking and taking. “Well… It’s a date, then?”

You nod and a light chuckle slips out that you didn’t expect.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

~~~ a/n: don't forget to like/reply/reblog! I love to hear from you!

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Sewing!Reader pt.2

Chapter 3

You and Alastor crossed the threshold of the door and as soon as the blanket of darkness took you both over, you shivered.

"You must be freezing Y/N!" Alastor said pulling away.

"Huh? Oh no I am quite alright. It is just a couple of blocks to my place." You countered to the best of your abilities but your actions put no truth into your words. You brought your arms around you in a hug as an involuntary shiver spread throughout your body.

"Well," Alastor chuckled, "if it is just a couple of blocks my dear then I suppose I will be 'quite alright' as well." Alastor reached over his shoulders bending down slightly to wrap you in his coat.

"Thank you," you said going back to his arm.

"Anything for you" he said with a satisfied grin on his face.

You two walked back to your shop in a comfortable silence. You owned the building on top of your shop and lived there. It worked well because you saved time from the commute and were not paying for two separate areas in town. Walking together, you took notice of Alastor's coat around you. Different seams were tearing and there were plenty of holes in the lining. Safety pins that proved the illusion of a well fitting jacket poked at you with each step. 'How on earth is this comfortable' you thought to yourself. The shoulder pads shifted slightly with each step as they weren't stitched down.

"I broadcast at the end of this road." Alastor broke the silence recognizing where you both were as the sewing store came into view. Why didn't he ever take notice of your shop?

"Do you now? Who would have guessed we worked so close to one another and have never crossed paths" you chimed knowing its because you liked the comfort of your home.

"Thank you for walking me home Alastor" you continued incredibly grateful for the gesture.

"Of course darling. Do you need anything else from me tonight?"

"Just for you to get home safe"

"I will. Only because you were pleasant company tonight and I look forward to seeing you again." He ended the night the way it began, a simple gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"Why thank you doll, you're just as charming as your voice on the broadcast. Safe travels- I'll see you again." With that you waved him goodbye, a smile plastered on your face. He was just the sweetest thing to you!

Alastor made it halfway home realizing you still had his coat. 'No worries' he thought. He would just pick it up Monday on his way home from work. He was content with the night, happy a nice person such as yourself was home safe and likely tucked away sleeping.

However, as soon as Alastor was out of your view, you got to work. Sure you had the next two days to get the coat returned to Alastor but you were excited for the project. Immediately you went to your sewing tables and flipped the blazer inside out. This made it easier to see what you were working with. There was a large tear in the lining in the back middle seam. The waist was pinched by bent safety pins on both the left and right sides as well as the back to create a tailored appearance. There were rips in the armpits causing the lining to tear away and multiple inner seams were torn.

It must have been difficult for Alastor to find properly fitting clothes with how tall and lean he was. If he sized down things would be too short on his long body so sizing up and altering the appearance was his only option.

The best way to fix his coat would be to tear out and replace the lining. It needed to be taken in at the waist and armpits and the sleeves needed to be hemmed a slight amount. Getting to work, you took your supply of old flour bags and started to trace a pattern. Cheap fabric could be difficult to come by so you offered discounts to anyone who would bring you the fabric for flour bags.

The new lining was made out of a heavier duty material rather than the cheap fabric already in the suit that could hardly hold a stitch without ripping. It took a while between all the cutting and stitching but you had the lining fit and sewed into the suit. Getting ready to hem and tailor the the coat, the sun started to peer through your blinds clearly curious about your work. Being focused in your work wasn't anything new, often times you were unable to sleep when you got a new project idea in your head.

Deciding to take a break, you headed upstairs. While getting ready; changing your clothes and washing your face, just doing the daily fixings you put a cup of coffee on the burner and set some breakfast in the oven to warm up. Once finished you headed down the stairs to open your shop and get started for the day.

You had Alastor's coat to finish- which now would take half an hour at most now that the hard part was out of the way. The blanket needed to be done this weekend and a few pants and dresses to hem. Next week you would start preparing for Mimzy's dress order.

A/N Hi everyone! Sorry this is short. I have been writing out all the parts to this story and then typing them all! I intend for this story to get pretty long and will be asking for some opinions soon! Thank you for reading!!