#still breathing still standing upright still doing the things that need to be done

[jmflowers]

I am… so tired. This last week has been so emotionally and physically trying and I know the week ahead will be more of the same.

This weekend we’re shooting our “capstone” short film, which will be our final major project before graduation (they’ve still given us a bunch of other less major projects to do after). Usually, I am such a control freak when it comes to these things - and I have been, in terms of pre-production. But yesterday, we started shooting and I just… didn’t have it in me to care what this actually looks like. I spent most of the day standing back watching while I let my partner film instead.

Today is our big shooting day, as we’re back on location with our two main actors this time. I know I should film some. I know I should care about camera angles and framing and which lenses we’re using. I know I should’ve made more of an effort to get us someone to help as crew today. I also know that I feel as though I’m barely treading water and it’s taking all of my energy to keep my head up enough to breathe.

I’m ready for this semester to be over. I’m ready to graduate and have my life back to a way where I can decide when I need to rest. I’m ready to be a little selfish and unburdened from all of these extra things going on around me. I’m ready to stop feeling as though I’m on the verge of tears without any time to actually cry.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: ANGSTTYYYYY, swearing

A/N: here we areeee sorta lmao

Masterpost

Steve walked you up the steps to your apartment, the silence between you both heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, casting a soft glow on the quiet street. You paused at the door, fumbling with your keys, when Steve broke the silence.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. His blue eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I mean, Bucky’s bound to come back sooner or later.”

You offered him a small, tired smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Steve. You’ve done enough for me tonight. This… this is something I need to figure out with him. Just the two of us.”

Steve hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m a big girl, remember? I can handle it.”

Steve sighed, then pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His warmth was grounding, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just exist in that safe space he always seemed to provide.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet promise. “No matter what.”

You squeezed him back, your heart aching with gratitude. “I’ll always be here for you too, Stevie. And… I’m sorry.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders, and gave you a small, sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you couldn’t find the right response. You just nodded, your throat tightening. Steve leaned down and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

With one last lingering glance, Steve turned and made his way down the steps, disappearing into the night. You watched until he was out of sight, the ache in your chest deepening. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the door, bracing yourself for what was to come.

As you closed the door behind you, you felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the unmistakable presence of someone else. Your heart jumped, and when you looked up, there he was.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. His head snapped up the moment you walked in, his blue eyes locking onto yours. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Finally, Bucky broke the silence, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to desperation. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Part of you screamed to say no, to protect what was left of your shattered heart. But another part—the one that had clung to him for so long, even when you shouldn’t have—was too tired to keep running.

You nodded stiffly, your voice barely audible. “Yeah. We can talk.”

The tension in the room was unbearable, the silence crackling with unspoken truths and jagged edges. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“You wanna sit?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft, almost careful.

You shook your head, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “No. I’d rather stand.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you, his eyes stormy and unsteady. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost raw.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and humorless. “Well, there’s a lot to unpack, Buck,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.

He flinched, but nodded again. “I know,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all was finally dragging him down.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the words bubbling up, the frustration, the hurt—it was too much to hold in any longer.

“You had no right,” you said suddenly, your voice slicing through the stillness.

His head snapped up, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

“You had no right to tell me about Steve,” you snapped, your tone biting. “That wasn’t yours to share! I can’t believe you’d do that to him—to me! He’s your best friend too Bucky!”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening as his face crumpled in guilt. “I—”

But you weren’t done. “And you had no right to punch Dean, no matter how you felt about him. Or to make those snarky little comments about me not being able to handle a real date. What the hell is wrong with you, Bucky? And for what? Why?”

Bucky looked at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. He opened his mouth, but it was clear he was struggling to find the words. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “You’re absolutely right.”

You blinked, not expecting his immediate agreement. The anger bubbling in your chest faltered, leaving behind a hollow ache.

“I had no right to any of it,” he continued, his voice rough and remorseful. “Not to tell you about Steve, not to hit Dean, not to say those things to you. I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I’ve been an asshole to you, and I know it. I know that. And I’m sorry.”

The words sounded genuine, but they weren’t enough to soothe the pain in your chest. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Bucky,” you said, your voice trembling. “Sorry doesn’t undo everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I know it doesn’t. And I know it probably never will be enough. But I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know why I say the things I say, why I push you away and pull you back, over and over again. I don’t know why I—” His voice broke, and he took a deep, unsteady breath. “I just know that I can’t lose you. I can’t. Not as a friend. Not as anything. I can’t, I won’t live a life without you in it… a part of it.”

Your heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but it only fueled your frustration. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim here, Bucky!” you snapped, your tears finally spilling over. “You’ve hurt me so many times—more times than I can count. Do you even realize what you’ve done? How much you’ve hurt me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I realize it every fucking day.” Bucky’s voice is low, rough, as he takes a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. His blue eyes blaze with frustration, pain, and something deeper—something raw and unfiltered. “But, what about me?” he snaps, his voice trembling. “What did you think those moments meant to me? When I would try and try and try to break through those walls you had up? You think that was easy? It wasn’t.”

Your breath catches, and you take a step back, but he follows, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting. “Every time I tried to get close, every time I put myself out there, you’d shut me down. You’d give me that look, and then you’d fuck off like none of it mattered. Do you think it was easy for me? It wasn’t.” His voice cracks slightly, but he powers through. “You’re acting like this is all my fault, but it’s not. This is a two-way street, sweetheart.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls pressing tighter with every word, the air thick and suffocating. Bucky’s voice reverberates in the charged silence, raw with an intensity that shakes you to your core.

Your voice trembles as you finally manage to speak, your words slipping out, shaky and sharp. “Do you blame me? That night in college—we dove headfirst into it! Y-you never even tried to talk to me about it after. What was I supposed to think? To feel?!” You pause, your voice breaking. “You had a reputation, Bucky! What was I supposed to believe?”

His face twists, a mixture of frustration and pain that spills over in his words. “We’re going back to that night again, huh?” he growls, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his movements restless, his fists clenching at his sides. “Fine. Let’s remember.”

He turns to you suddenly, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of the emotions he’s been carrying for years. “You left me that night! I never left you! You walked out on us, on the possibility of something real, and you didn’t even look back. You assumed!” His voice breaks on the word, loud and desperate as it ricochets off the walls. “Because you always fucking assume! You never stopped to think about what it meant for me—what it actually meant for me—that night. You leaving…”

His pacing stops abruptly as he runs both hands down his face, dragging his palms over his stubble like he’s trying to hold himself together. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged. “What about me?” he asks, his voice cracking, and for the first time, he looks at you like he’s completely unraveling. “What about me?”

Your breath hitches, and the tears that have been burning at the corners of your eyes finally spill over. You don’t even try to stop them as you glare at him through the blur of your tears. “You never clarified anything to me, Bucky!” Your voice is trembling but sharp, slicing through the tension. “You just let those rumors float around! And even after we had sex, you never stopped them! You still went out with girls, you still slept with them! And you wanted me to just… somehow know that it actually meant something to you?!”

Bucky’s jaw tightens as your words hit him like a physical blow. His hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. “Of course you should have known!” he yells, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s YOU! For god’s sake, it’s you! You’re not just anyone, and after all these years, all this time, how could you think of me like that? How could you not see it?”

His breathing is erratic, his blue eyes boring into yours, raw and pleading. “And for the record,” he says, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost broken tone, “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

You shake your head, your disbelief immediate and sharp. “That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

Bucky lets out a bitter, humorless laugh that slices through you. “Of course you don’t. You never do apparently! But you believe everybody else, don’t you?” He takes a step closer, his voice rising again, full of pain and accusation. “Everyone except your best friend. You’ve known me since we were five, and you still think I’m lying?”

Your voice shakes, your anger breaking through your tears. “Fuck you,” you snap, your words trembling with both fury and heartbreak. “That was over two years ago! Don’t stand here and tell me you haven’t slept with anyone in two years, Bucky!”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he lifts his right hand, his fingers splaying out. “I’ve got a hand, don’t I?”

The bluntness of his words stuns you into silence for a moment. The room feels impossibly small as his voice drops, quiet but raw with emotion. He takes a hesitant step closer, his blue eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t think I’ve tried?” he asks, his voice breaking on the words. “I’ve tried! I tried with Kate. I’ve tried with others. But I just can’t.” His hands fall to his sides, his voice rising with desperation. “Because it feels wrong without you. Everything feels wrong without you.”

His confession hangs in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating, and you’re left standing there, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to burst. The vulnerability in his voice, in his posture, is devastating. You’ve never seen him like this—so unguarded, so exposed—and it cuts deeper than you thought possible.

And for a moment, the world seems to stand still.

Summer before senior year

The sun was casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet neighborhood as Bucky finally reached your house. His chest heaved with exertion, and his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was finding you.

The house was eerily silent as he approached. He pounded on the door, his heart in his throat. He called your name, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s me. Please… are you here?”

No answer.

Bucky clenched his fists, the pain in his knuckles grounding him as panic threatened to take over. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the windows, the driveway, any sign that you might be home. He was about to start circling the house when he noticed movement down the street.

It was you.

You were walking slowly, your arms wrapped around yourself, your head down. Even from a distance, Bucky could see the way your shoulders were hunched, like you were carrying the weight of the world. His heart broke at the sight.

He called your name, jogging toward you. The sound of his voice made you stop in your tracks, but you didn’t look up. He reached you within seconds, skidding to a halt a few feet away. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

You lifted your head, your tear-streaked face cutting him like a knife. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He took a cautious step closer, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said softly. “Steve told me… he told me what happened.”

Your lip quivered, and you quickly looked away. “You didn’t have to come, i didn't ask you too…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, I did,” Bucky said firmly. “I did because…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because I care about you, You’re my best friend. And I’m sorry for telling you that you couldn't come to me, for making you feel that way, I’m sorry for everything.”

Your eyes finally met his, and he saw the anger and hurt swirling within them. “You were right, though,” you said, your voice breaking. “Mike didn’t care about me. He didn’t even want to stay.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I feel like this is my fault. Like… like maybe if I’d told you about Carley, if I’d been honest with you from the start, you wouldn’t have felt like you had something to prove.”

You blinked, startled. “What does Carley have to do with this?”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never told you about her because I was ashamed. I wasn’t ready for… any of it, but I did it anyway because I felt like I had to. Everyone else was moving on, and I thought I should too.”

He paused, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you rarely saw. “But it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like it thought it should’ve. And I hate that you had to go through that with Mike. That it wasn’t… that it wasn’t what it should’ve been for you either.”

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you deserve to know,” Bucky said quietly. “And because I never want you to feel like you have to settle for less than you deserve.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. Bucky froze for a moment before his arms came around you, holding you tightly as if he could somehow piece you back together.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered into his chest. “For everything, i never wanna lose you Buck”

Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his eyes closing as he held you. “We’ll be okay, we’ll always be okay, its us”

“I have loved you since we were kids,” Bucky’s voice broke, his words raw and desperate, the kind that claw their way out of a person when they’ve been buried too long. He stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “How could you not see it? How could you not feel it?”

His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his emotions, and his fists clenched as if trying to hold himself together. “I love you. I have always loved you. I LOVE YOU!” The words ripped from him like they’d been burning a hole in his chest for years, finally too powerful to contain.

His shoulders sagged, and his breath hitched as he continued, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Every time, every single time—you needed something, you called me, and I came running. I dropped everything for you. Everything. Even when you didn’t ask, I was there. I chose you, over and over again. And every damn time, you never saw it.”

His gaze locked onto yours, his anguish laid bare. “I’ve spent years waiting, hoping you’d notice. Hoping you’d see me—not just as your friend, but as the guy who would do anything, be anything, just to make you happy. But you didn’t. Or maybe you did, and you didn’t care. Either way, it’s been tearing me apart.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence crackling with tension as he stood there, breathing hard, his raw confession filling the space between you. For the first time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t just your best friend—he was a man who had reached his breaking point, stripped of every defense, standing exposed in front of you, waiting for you to either put him back together or shatter him completely.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as tears streaked down your face. “No. No, you don’t get to say that now. You can’t just say that now.” Your voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything you’d held inside for years. You wiped at your tears with trembling hands, frustration bubbling over. “It wasn’t obvious, Bucky! Maybe in your goddamn head it was, but not to me!”

Your voice rose, trembling with anger and heartbreak. “How could it have been? You were always with someone else, or talking about another girl. Every time I started to think, maybe—maybe—this isn’t just in my head, you’d do something to prove me wrong. You’d flirt with someone else. You’d talk about someone else.” You gesture wildly, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably now. “And you expect me to believe that this—that we—was obvious?”

Bucky flinched, his eyes wide, but you pushed forward, unable to stop yourself. “We had moments, Bucky. God, so many moments where I thought maybe… maybe. But you never did anything. You never said anything. You just left me sitting there, waiting—wondering if I was crazy for even hoping.” Your voice cracked, and your hands fell limply to your sides. “You never tried. You never did a damn thing. And now you stand here, years later, telling me this? Now?”

You could see the pain etched across his face, the regret in his eyes, but it didn’t dull the ache in your chest. “It’s been years, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Years of me wondering if I was imagining it all. And you just… let me.”

The air between you and Bucky was suffocating, heavy with years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, every word exchanged cutting deeper than the last. The living room, once a safe space, now felt like a battleground where the ghosts of your past circled, waiting for the final blow.

Bucky’s chest heaved as he stared at you, his blue eyes glassy, his face etched with frustration and heartbreak. “You think I didn’t try?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You think I didn’t want to make a move? I didn’t do it because I was scared! Scared of ruining the one good thing in my life! I couldn’t risk losing you, so yeah, I kept my mouth shut and buried how I felt.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his words. “You didn’t just bury it, Bucky. You locked it away and threw the key at my feet. You made me feel like I was imagining everything! And all the while, you were running off with other girls like it didn’t mean a damn thing.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t back down. “You think it was easy for me? Watching you look at me like I was just another guy, like I didn’t matter? God, every time you’d laugh with Steve or go on about some asshole, it killed me! And yet, I stayed. I stayed because you needed me, and I thought that was enough. But it wasn’t.” His voice cracked again, and he wiped a hand down his face. “I needed you, too.”

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, hot and stinging as they trailed down your cheeks. “If you needed me so badly, then why did you let me walk away? Why didn’t you come after me, Bucky? I gave you every chance, and you still—” Your voice broke, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Bucky’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice hoarse. “Because you looked at me like I was nothing that night. Like everything we’d built, everything we could’ve had, didn’t matter to you. Do you know what that did to me? You left me, and I—I didn’t know how to fight for you when you didn’t want to be fought for.”

You spun back around, your eyes blazing. “You don’t get to put this all on me! You broke my heart before I even knew what it meant to love someone! You made me feel like I was never enough, like I was some backup plan while you figured out your life. And now, now you want to stand here and tell me you’ve loved me all along? No. That’s not fair, Bucky.”

He took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I’m not asking for fair. I’m asking for real. I’m telling you now because I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve carried this for years, and it’s tearing me apart.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, stretched to its limit. Bucky’s face was a canvas of raw emotion—anger, sadness, longing. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, I will always love you” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t show it the way you needed. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I didn’t love you with everything I had, with everything I could”

You shook your head, your body trembling. “And what am I supposed to do with that now, Bucky? After everything? After all the pain, all the missed chances?”

He stepped closer again, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You say I never made a move? Well, here it is. I’m laying it all out. I love you, im so in love with you! and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. But if you don’t feel the same—if you can’t—then tell me, and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave, for good this time.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the weight of his confession crushing you. You looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for clarity, but all you found was the same broken boy you’d loved for years. The one you’d always loved.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, his face falling as if the weight of your words had physically struck him. He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, leaving you suspended in a free fall with no end in sight.

Finally, you turned away, your voice breaking as you said, “I need time, I just need a minute..”

Bucky didn’t stop you. He didn’t call after you or try to pull you back. He simply stood there, watching as you walked out of the room, his heart shattering with every step you took.

The streets felt endless as you walked, the cool night air biting at your skin but doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. The echoes of Bucky’s voice still rang in your ears, his confession, his anger—it all felt too big to hold. You didn’t know where else to go, so your feet carried you to the one place that always felt like a refuge.

Natasha and Wanda’s apartment.

You didn’t knock. Your hands were shaking too much to even try. Instead, you turned the handle and stepped inside, your breath hitching as you fought to hold yourself together.

Wanda was the first to notice you. She stood in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket, her fingers curled around a mug of tea. Her face softened the moment she saw you, her expression filled with concern. “Oh, babe,” she said gently, setting the mug down and crossing the room to you. “Come here.”

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you inside. Your coat hung limp in your hand, and your shoes scraped against the floor as you kicked them off.

Natasha appeared from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. Her sharp green eyes flicked over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the uneven breaths, and the raw emotion clinging to you like a second skin. She didn’t say anything right away, just gestured toward the couch.

You sank into the cushions, your heart hammering. The silence was heavy, and when the words finally came, they spilled out of you like a broken dam.

“I talked to Bucky,” you choked out, your voice unsteady. “We fought. He told me he loves me. That he’s always loved me.”

Wanda perched beside you, her hand gently squeezing your knee. She didn’t say anything, just offered silent support. Natasha, however, stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silence was unnerving, her face unreadable.

“And now?” Natasha asked, her tone quiet but carrying an edge. “Why are you here crying?”

Her question hit like a slap, cutting through the haze of your thoughts. You blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Natasha took a deliberate sip of her wine, her gaze steady and unnerving. “I mean, why are you here? Why aren’t you there? With him?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “Because…” you stammered, shaking your head. “After everything? After everything he’s done, you’ve always told me not to run back to him.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she set her glass down with a sharp clink. “Yes. After everything.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, frustration bubbled up. “Why aren’t you on my side right now?” you demanded, your voice cracking.

Natasha sighed, rubbing her temple as if this conversation was physically draining her. “Because, for once, he finally said it. He said what you’ve been waiting to hear for years.”

Wanda’s hand stayed steady on your knee, but she looked at Natasha with quiet curiosity. Natasha’s tone wasn’t just sharp—it was laced with something else, something deeper.

“If this is what you’ve always wanted,” Natasha continued, her voice rising slightly, “and he’s there, telling you he loves you, why the hell are you here? Why are you sitting on my couch crying about it?”

The words felt like they knocked the wind out of you. You tried to speak, to justify your actions, but nothing came.

“Let me make this clear,” Natasha pressed on, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “At least the person you love actually loves you back.”

Your heart stopped. “Nat…” you started, your voice weak. “What are you talking about?”

Natasha’s eyes flashed, her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. “God, you’re so blind,” she snapped, the words biting. “I’ve been in love with Steve for years.”

The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, the disbelief in your voice evident.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah. And Steve’s been in love with you for just as long. And while you’ve been chasing after Bucky, Steve’s been stuck watching it all, pining after someone he’ll never have. It’s a fucking circle of misery, and I’m tired of watching it.”

Her words felt like daggers. “I didn’t know,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know, Nat.”

“Of course you didn’t!” Natasha snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Because you’ve always been so wrapped up in your own little world. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend—you’re not. You’re one of my best friends. But God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, the anger giving way to exhaustion. She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need your apology. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because you need to get your shit together. You need to stop wasting time. Steve, he needs to let you go and Bucky…”

Her eyes bore into yours, the weight of her words impossible to ignore. “He loves you,” she said softly, her tone shifting. “And you love him. So what the hell are you doing here?”

The silence hung heavy between you, the gravity of everything sinking in. Finally, Natasha sighed and gestured toward the door. “Get out of my house. Go back to yours. Go see Bucky.”

You hesitated, glancing at Wanda for reassurance. Wanda gave you a small, supportive smile. “She’s right,” Wanda said softly. “You know she is.”

Natasha crossed her arms again, her expression softening just slightly. “Go,” she repeated. “Before I lose my patience and drag you out myself.”

You nodded slowly, standing and grabbing your coat. As you reached the door, you turned back, your voice trembling. “Thank you…”

Natasha gave you a small, tight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just… go fix it. Go be together, finally… please.”

You stepped out into the cold night air, your heart pounding as you walked back toward your apartment, Natasha’s words echoing in your head.

He loves you. You love him. So what the hell are you doing here?

[moonstruckme]

Omg Mae more Spence please!! I love him ❤️❤️ what about the team is out at the bar after a case and some guy is flirting with reader and not taking no for an answer and spencer steps in even tho it’s out of character for him bc he’s so so jealous

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: minor assault, fictional confirmation that most guys are douchebags

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 926 words

“Right,” JJ says, “so Henry had actually been trying to say ‘fork,’ but of course everyone heard ‘fuck.’” 

You double over, laughter bubbling to the surface even easier than usual with the help of the couple of drinks you’ve had. Garcia has far surpassed you, tears leaking from her eyes as Morgan all but holds her upright. 

“And Will’s mom was…” JJ shakes her head with a smile, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, she was pretty upset. She accused Will of using that language around Henry, because she said he’s always had a potty mouth.” 

“Will?” Garcia cackles. “Our sweet southern beaux? There’s no way.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “I can see it. But he wouldn’t do it around Henry, for sure.” 

“Actually,” Spencer pipes up, “studies show that many children pick up swear words regardless of their parents’ usage. Even if they don’t know what they mean, most have a vocabulary of thirty to forty offensive words by the time they start school.”

The humor drains from JJ’s face. “Like, kindergarten?”

“Sometimes earlier,” Spencer says, before seeming to realize JJ finds these facts more alarming than fascinating. “I’m sure Henry will have a higher vocabulary than that by the time he gets to that age, though.” he adds hastily. “Probably won’t even need to resort to swear words.” You grin at him, laying your head on his shoulder consolingly. You might not have done it if you were completely sober, but right now it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Spencer only tenses for a second before relaxing.

It’s Garcia who notices first, stiffening and straightening in her seat, but Hotch is the one to ask, “Can we help you?”

“I think so,” drawls a voice from behind you. “You can give me your friend’s number.”

You turn, finding yourself too close to the man standing with his hand presumptuously on the back of your chair and grinning like your agreement is a done deal. 

“Thanks,” you say, not unkindly, “but I’m not looking for anything.” 

The man tilts his head as if to say come on. “But don’t you just love when you find it anyways?”

“I’m here with my friends.” 

“And I’m not asking you to leave them.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, undeterred when you lean away. “Just give me your number, and next time you can be here with me.” 

“She said she’s not interested.” Emily’s voice is hard. If this guy weren’t so unpleasant, you’d be impressed that he’s still here, with your whole team staring daggers at him. 

The douchebag only smiles. “She didn’t say that, though. Did you, sweetheart?”

Your blood runs hot at his disregard of Emily. A man like this, you know—the assertive, overly masculine type—can be dangerous to piss off. But so can you. “I’m not," you say, finally letting the disgust you’ve been holding back seep into your voice. “Leave us alone.” 

Anger sparks in the man’s eyes, just like you knew it would. You don’t expect your gaze looks much different. His grip on your shoulder tightens as he gets in your face, close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. “I know you don’t mean that.” 

You tense, ready to shake him off you and drag him back to whatever musty corner of the bar he’d come from, but Spencer beats you to it. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says, prying the fingers from your shoulder. You stand, a protective instinct moving you in front of Spencer, but he pushes past you, badge outheld. “FBI. Do you really wanna pursue this? Because if so, I’ll have no problem cuffing you and explaining it to the local police.” 

The guy makes like he’s going to dart for you again, but Spencer steps in his way, pushing him back with a hand on his shoulder. His voice is quiet but clear. “Do not touch her.”

“Fuck off,” the guy shakes Spencer’s hand off, stalking away. He’s drunker than you thought, wobbling his way back to the bar. 

“Spence,” you say, taking his hand as though mere contact with the man’s shoulder could hurt it. “You didn’t have to do that, I could have handled it.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replies, pulling back the collar of your shirt distractedly. His fingers skim over tender skin, and you look down to find your shoulder is red where the man had gripped it. It’ll probably be a bruise tomorrow. Spencer’s eyes darken. “I can still arrest him. That’s assault.”

“It’s fine.” You move your shirt back into place, pulling him back to your seats. “I’m fine, really. Sorry about the scene, guys.” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Hotch says severely, still eyeing the man from across the room. 

Morgan lets out a low whistle, relaxing back into his seat. “Way to go, wonder boy. Got a little jealous there, did we?”

Spencer lets out a little laugh, though it sounds more strained than usual. “I just did what all of us wanted to do.” 

“Agreed,” Emily says gruffly, toasting with her beer. “I thought I was going to have to go all the way around the table to kick that guy’s ass.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate the support, but I can take care of myself, you know.” You adjust your collar self-consciously, and as soon as you drop your hand back to your lap, Spencer’s taking it in his under the table. 

“Yeah,” he says casually, thumb stroking soothingly at your wrist. “We know.”

[erwinsvow]

really, rafe hadn’t even realized he’d done anything special. 

he was used to having sarah’s litter of friends over at tannyhill, as annoying as it was. after one of them had needed an ambulance and a stomach pumping after too many shots snuck in upstairs in his sister’s room, he was trying to keep a handle on things, keep an eye on the situation. be proactive, be the man of the house, which he was when ward wasn’t there.

he thought he’d heard a bunch of girls scurry out in the morning, but he must have been wrong, because when he’s walking to his truck, he finds you, sitting on the ground next to your bike, blocking his exit.

you look angry, mumbling curses under your breath while you fiddle with something he can’t see—though your bike is tipped over and the wheel looks slightly deflated. 

the first thought in his head is to tell you to move with your bike or he’ll run you both over. but that’s not what the man of the house would say, so instead he gets closer, crouching next to you.

“what’s goin’ on?”

you look up, startled. you were so focused on your broken bike that you hadn’t heard the footsteps of sarah’s older brother, the one she always complains about.

“everyone left for the beach already, i was gonna bike there. i got on and the wheel just gave out and i fell off. i don’t know what’s wrong with the stupid thing.” you’re facing your bike now, looking at the various gears and chains trying to make sense of it. you don’t look back at him but he’s still staring.

rafe doesn’t think he’s met you before, thinks he would have remembered—you were too pretty for him to forget.

he hoists the bike upright, spinning the tire until a gleam of silver comes around.

“nail in the driveway. your, uh, little bike didn’t have a chance.”

“crap. i don’t have the thing with me.”

“the thing?”

“the air pumpy thing. you know, the thing?” you look up at rafe to see his furrowed eyebrows.

“yeah, kid. sure.” he takes a step back, leaning the bike against his truck. “lemme go see what i can find.” you’re still perched on the ground, but pressing your palms flat on the pavement to get yourself up. “here-” he offers you his hand, helping you up.

even standing, you still have to look up at rafe to see his face. 

“you don’t have to do that. i’m sure you’re busy. i can always walk-”

“nah, it’s fine. you saved my tire from getting that nail. stay here, i’ll be back.” 

and you listen, twiddling your thumbs waiting for rafe. he comes back with a tire pump and other things that you don’t recognize, but you watch intently. when he pulls out the nail, he offers it to you, and you offer him your cupped palms to drop it into. 

finally, rafe stands and moves the bike slowly, testing it out.

“here, kid. good as new.”

“wow. thanks rafe!” you beam, smiling brightly. “that was so nice of you. you’re so nice.” you think you sound a little dazed—but you are. rafe is so nice to you, nothing like what sarah had told you about him.

at first rafe can’t tell if you’re just joking or not, but he decides not when you don’t immediately get on your bike and ride to where your friends are.

“uh, thanks. it’s nothin’. m’not just gonna leave you here like your shitty friends did.” you laugh, still smiling at him. “well, uh, i’ll see you around, kid.” for once, he actually hopes he does.

after the beach that day, you swing back home, making sure to ask sarah what her brother’s favorite dessert is. you pack a big batch of oatmeal raisin cookies in a pretty pink tin and put them in the wicker basket attached to your bicycle, riding over to sarah’s place. 

instead of going upstairs like you normally do, you wander into the kitchen, where rafe is standing, looking at some papers spread out on the island.

“hi, rafe,” you say, and when he turns to look at you, you smile big. 

“hey, kid. uh, i don’t think sarah’s home yet-”

“oh, i didn’t come for her.” you open the tin, placing it on the counter infront of him. “i just wanted to say thanks for this morning. sarah said you like oatmeal raisin.”

he looks up down at the cookies, then at you. 

“thanks. y’know, you didn’t have to do that.”

“maybe. you were just so nice this morning, i felt like i should do something.” you’re looking up at him with big, fluttery eyes and a thudding heart. “is there anything else i can do? that you want? to say thank you?”

he cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head, hoping he’s understanding you correctly while knowing that he is.

“yeah-yeah? anything else?”

“i just want to thank you properly,” you sigh, getting closer. being bold’s not new to you, but this is only the second time you’re talking to him. you’re sure he understands, with the tiny dress you wore here, the one with the low neck and thin straps.

“yeah. alright, kid. c’mon, upstairs.” you beam, darting up the stairs and giving him a show in the process. he stares from the foot of the stairs for a second before joining you.

you’re so glad you stuck that nail in your tire.

[confessedlyfannish]

Six Years Ago

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Sam watches Danny wash the dishes in their kitchen, quietly humming to himself, and wonders how many more days they'll get like this. She comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his torso, resting her forehead against the plane of his shoulder.

He leans his head back until it rests against the top of hers, and they stand there as her hand creeps up to rest on his heart. Danny turns the sink off and they breathe together, slowly.

"Hey," he says, putting his hand on top of hers. His hand is warm. "Still here."

Sam rubs her cheek against the thin cotton of his shirt, and he pulls their intertwined hands to his mouth to kiss her palm.

She pulls away.

"Sam?"

"You talked to Clockwork, didn't you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he stiffens.

"I saw the pause," she says, tracing the edge of the table they picked out together. "Before you took the kid to Frostbite."

"Sam..."

"I know you were going to tell me. I just thought I'd beat you to it."

"Because I know what you're going to say—"

"Make me a vessel."

"Sam, no," Danny grabs her hands, squeezing. "Please, don't ask me to do that."

"I started all of this, the day I dared you to go into that portal," she says, putting a hand on the face already mouthing a no.

"I don't regret what happened," Danny says.

"Neither do I," she smiles lightly. "I asked you to go in again, remember? I've killed you twice now, and maybe it says something about me that I never felt all that bad about it."

"We were kids," Danny says.

Sam shrugs. "I heard you scream. Both times."

"I'm not as strong as you," Danny whispers.

"I know," she says. "That's why you need me."

Danny's eyes flick up towards the ceiling, in the direction of the guest bedroom. "He's awake," he says.

"Let me talk to him," she grabs the pill bottle resting beside them, turning towards the stairs "You freak him out."

Danny catches her wrist. "I can't ask you...I can't ask you to do this for me."

"You're crazy if you think I'd let you do this alone."

"You hate organized government," he blurts out. Sam laughs.

"Hardly what this is, first of all, second," she smirks, "I guess we'll have to make some changes."

"It'll be hard."

"It's been hard before."

"We'll have to fight."

"Done that too, once or twice."

"And we won't be able to..."

"Yeah," Sam says, resting her forehead against his. "I know."

"You can still walk away from this," his eyes scream for her to stay.

"You're my family. End of."

"I'll change."

"Yes, absolute power tends to do that. You won't be good, because you can't be with all that power, and you might even be evil or worse, ignorant. Someday you'll be stopped. Someday you'll have to be stopped. You're," she swallows, voice cracking. "You're dooming yourself Danny."

"Yes. Please don't ask me to doom you too."

"I don't know," she winds her arm around his neck and presses their lips together, her lipstick staining his lips blue-black. "Sounds pretty goth to me."

"That's dumb," a voice pipes up. They both turn in surprise to see the kid standing in the doorway. With his arm bandaged, his leg splinted and face pale, he still looks pretty worse for wear. He's holding onto the arch for support, and in the other hand he's clutching a crocheted green stuffie of a ghost, complete with red eyes and a black-stitched smile. Upright, he's smaller than Sam thought.

"Absolute power doesn't make you evil. My dad is super strong, stronger than anybody on Earth, he could do whatever he wanted, and no one would be able to stop him," the boy rambles. "But he doesn't, 'cause he wouldn't ever, 'cause he doesn't want to, and that'll never change. Never. He's good. If you want to be good, you be good."

He frowns hard at them, as if willing them to be good with his gaze alone.

Sam glances at Danny, and watches his face go from stunned to inexplicably fond.

"You're right," he says quietly. "Adults can really complicate things sometimes, huh?"

"All the time," the kid says with exasperation, the most put-upon look on his face that Sam has to abruptly turn away before she busts a gut.

"Why can't I fly?" the kid demands. "And why is your hair black?"

"Permission to approach?" Sam asks, putting her hands up when the kid takes a hurried step back. The kid eyes the bottle in her hand and she puts it back on the table, pulling a chair out for him. He chooses to warily limp past her instead, but murmurs a "thank you" as he sits that has both adults biting back grins, especially when it is clear his feet only skim the ground.

"Not going to lie, kiddo, really thought you'd try climbing out the window," Danny says. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"Yes, please," the child says. He mutters something.

"What was that?" Sam asks, smile widening.

"It was too high," the kid repeats, petulantly. "Seeing as I can't fly." He accepts the water with another thank you. He eyes the pill bottle again. "What're those?"

"This," Sam says, scooping it up and giving it a shake. "Is for you." She places it in front of him, and he cautiously takes it.

"Medicine?" he asks.

"Yup, you got it!" Danny says, rummaging through the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"There's no label on it," the kid says, eyes narrowed.

"That's because we had it made especially for you," Danny explains, unwrapping a turkey sandwich and placing it in front of him. As if on cue, the kid's stomach growls loudly.

The child seems to abruptly realize he is still holding the toy, flushing. He still carefully places it on the chair beside him. Danny beams in its direction.

"Glad you like Blobert, my Dad made him."

"Blobert?"

"The Third," Sam says with solemnity. "Danny's dad is big into crocheting." He'd found it to be a nice outlet outside of ghost hunting, and now their house was full of slightly wonky-looking stuffed ghosts.

"My dad knits," the kid offers around a big bite of sandwich. "Gran taught him when he was little. He says it's relaxing."

"Knitting and crocheting involves teeny little stitches to create something big, right?" Danny says. The kid nods. "People are kind of the same way. We're made up of things called cells, which are super super small, too small for us to see. There's skin cells, and hair cells, and mouth and hand cells. There are pinky toe cells!" Danny exclaims.

"Each cell has a job, like some cells fight germs when you get sick, and that's how you get better. Does that make sense?"

The child nods.

"Other cells make sure that when you eat food, like your yummy turkey sandwich, is it yummy?" He nods again. "Phew! Between us, I'm not that good a cook."

"I liked the mac n' cheese," The boy says quietly.

"You did? I made that," Sam says triumphantly, while Danny obviously sulks. The boy giggles.

"Well," Danny says loudly, "when it comes to your obviously amazingly mind-blowing-ly delicious turkey sandwich, and Sam's okay mac n' cheese—"

"Hey!"

"There are cells that take that food and make sure each cell eats so it can do its job. And if all the cells are doing their jobs then you can do stuff like walk and run or in your case, fly."

"But I've been eating," the kid says, frowning. "And I can walk and run fine."

"You're a bit more special than that," Sam says, taking over. "Most people eat food and their cells know what to do. But some of your cells need some help knowing what to do. It's kind of like they're sleeping and we need to wake them up."

"Do you remember when we first met, and I took you to the sun?" Danny asks. The boy tenses, which is a yes. "I won't do that again, not without your permission. But we realized you needed that, sunlight. It helps wake up your cells."

"Yeah, that makes sense," the boy says slowly. Danny and Sam exchange a look over his head.

"Did you already know that?" Danny asks gently.

"My dad...he needs sunlight too. Sorta."

"Kiddo," Danny says, "the truth is, this isn't your world. Which I think you already know, yeah?"

The boy puts down his sandwich. "Yeah," he says, staring at his plate, and Sam wants to scoop him up and hold him close and tell him everything will be alright.

"Hey, I know it's scary, but we'll figure it out, okay? We're going to get you home, I promise."

The boy's head shoots up. "You know how to get me home?"

"We'll figure it out," Danny repeats. When uncertainty creeps into the boy's face, Danny shakes his head. "No, none of that. We know how you got here. If we time it correctly, we should be able to get you back."

"And in the meantime, you can stay with us," Sam says. The boy turns to her, surprised. "If you want to."

"With you?"

"Me and Blobert the Third. Oh, and Danny I suppose."

"Hey!"

The kid barely smiles. "You can really get me home?"

"Yes, but it might take some time. And while you're here, you'll have to take those," Danny nods at the pill bottle. "Our sun and your sun are different. It's kind of like it's speaking a different language than the one your cells understand, so they're having trouble knowing what to do. Those pills will help."

The kid looks suspiciously at the bottle, then them, then the bottle. And because he is just a kid, stranded and alone in an unfamiliar world while sick and in pain, the suspicion quickly gives way to fear.

"I forgot," Sam declares abruptly, "How unbelievably rude of me! My name is Sam. Samantha Manson," she offers the kid her hand to shake. "And that," she jabs a thumb in Danny's direction, "is Daniel James Fenton. But he also goes by Danny Phantom."

Sam leans in. "But kid, here's the thing. Remember how you asked why his hair is black?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, Phantom is actually Danny's superhero name. Except for me and a few other people, nobody knows Danny Phantom and Danny James Fenton are the same person."

"Wait," the boy says incredulously. "Are you telling me Danny Fenton is his secret identity?"

"Yup," Sam says, blinking as the boy gets more agitated. but keeping her tone level. Danny nods along. "Exactly what I'm saying."

"And you told me?" the boy cries. "You just met me! What if I was a bad person?"

"What if," Danny says, eyes bright.

"What if, indeed," Sam concurs.

"This isn't funny! Secret identities are important, you can't just go around telling people!"

"They are. It would be really bad if you told people Danny was Phantom, actually. But trust is a two-way street, have you heard that phrase before? We want you to trust us, so we're gonna trust you. Starting with Danny's secret identity." The boy stares, stunned.

Sam continues; "Kid, we'll always be honest with you. If you stay with us, we'll tell you whatever you want to know. And we'll keep you safe, until we can get you home to your dad."

"We'll tell you whatever you want to know even if you don't stay with us," Danny says quickly. "And we'll also get you home. But even if it's not with us, you need somewhere to stay. You need regular meals, and a bed to sleep in, and even if it's super boring, school,"

"I like school," the kid blurts.

"Oh? Which grade are you in?"

"I was going to start sixth after summer break..." the kid swallows suddenly.

"Wow, a middle schooler! That's old!" Danny says, attempting to distract him. "Here I thought you were seven!"

"I'm ten!" the kid says, bristling and blinking back tears.

"You must've been looking forward to it," Sam says, shooting Danny a glare. The child rubs furiously at his face. Danny comes around to his other side, crouching down.

"I was...I was going to go to school with my best friend, and I tried on the uniform and it was so cool...and I'd never been to a school with a uniform before and my Mom said we'd have a fitting in September," the boy is picking up speed, "but I wanted to be more like my dad and understand who I was because I feel weird and my powers feel weird and my grandpa said it would help and it would be important," the boy begins crying in earnest, "It wasn't supposed to be forever! It was just for a little while, and then I'd go back to school but I thought it sounded so cool and people looked up to me and I wanted to help and I told my mom I'd be okay so she left and—" Danny pulls the boy into a hug and he collapses into his shoulder, sobbing.

"We'll get you home, hey, hey, it's going to be okay—"

"I don't even know how to take pills!" The boy wails. "My leg hurts!"

"That's because you walked on it, silly goose," Danny says, standing up with the boy still in his arms. He clings to him like a koala. "We'll fix it. Hey, look at me. I'll fix it. Kiddo—"

"My name is Jon!" the boy wails louder.

"Jon, I've got you. I've got you, it'll be okay. I promise it'll be okay."

Oh, Sam thinks, watching Danny cradle the boy. This is going to break his heart.

Part Six

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 23

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You let your hands drift down to the soldier’s neck. You’re shaking. Stop thinking. That hasn’t done you any good. It can’t. They say when you’re in life and death moment, your body takes over. That’s what you need to do right now.  

You touch his high collar and feel along the front of his arm. You press your hands flat to his chest. He takes a deep breath as his hands hover around your hips. He toys with the light linen as you trace the straps of his harness. He lets you unbuckle one side, then the other. 

He does stop you. He is entirely still but for the tilt of his head. He watches you strip away the leather harness and then his belt. He doesn’t react as you hand catches the pistol. Even if you were fast, you’re not a marksman and by the scars on his body, it wouldn’t be that effective. 

You set it aside as his arms fall straight. You go back to him and remove his body arm, a piece at a time; shoulders, forearms, chest, thighs, calves. You didn’t realise before how much he layers on. You stack it all then take his hand. You bring him to the couch and have him sit. 

You get down to undo his boots. It’s another task to keep you busy. One piece at a time. That’s it. Like counting. You set his boots aside and peel off his socks. You hiss at the sight of his bruised toe. He doesn’t flinch. 

You tuck the fabric into the top of the boots and turn back to him. You stand and unzip his jacket? Shirt. It’s thick, a layer of mesh over something heavy. The high collar splits and you pull down the tab to reveal his muscled chest. You push the sleeves down and he brings his arms slightly back to help. 

The weight of his gaze drapes over you. You stop and frown, touching the black and blue chafed around his shoulder, a slender gash at the center. You daintily flutter your fingers over the edge. 

“Ouch.” You look at him and he blinks. You’re not sure he can feel even that. 

You finish taking the jacket off. He shifts on the cushion as you lay the fabric over the rest of his things. As you return to him. He stands and tears open the front of his pants. You gulp. He’s bulging to escape. 

You near and he reaches for you, keeping one hand on his fly as he squeezes the back of your neck. You whimper and grasp his wrist, patting his stomach at the same time. You show your teeth in pain. 

“Ow, hurt,” you say. “Soft.” 

You spread your hand over his and he slackens his hold on you. He stretches his fingers across the back of your head instead and you slide your palm up to his chest. You reach for his other hand and move it away from his fly. He resists but lets you take over. 

You tug his pants down little by little. He exhales deeply and you push the fabric past his thick thighs. It catches at his knees. You look down and gently brush along his swollen length. He twitches and clutches your hair even tighter. 

“I’ll be nice if you are,” you say. 

He doesn’t react. Not that you expect a vocal answer. He just stands there, still. You reach to move his hand from your hair and urge him to sit with a careful nudge and finish removing his pants. 

He is rigid and upright. You rub along his chest and shoulders. You feel his heart beating. You lightly push until he leans back. 

“That’s good,” you tell him, “relax.” You meet his eyes again. They cling to you. You trail your hands down and his stomach clench. You hush and coo at him. “I said relax.” 

He tenses then slowly, you feel him easing. You trace along his pelvis and thighs. He flexes but quickly shakes his head and grips the muscle along his legs as if to force them to release. You bring your hand up along his shaft and tickle up his length. 

You’re alight in that moment. Do or die. No thinking. Keep going. 

He goes stiff again. You put your other hand on his shoulder. You tell him again, “relax.” 

His jaw squares as he watches you stroke him. Your gaze falls to the easy motion of your hand. A raspy noise rises in his throat and he pulls his hand back to brace the couch cushions. 

You lean in and lift your knee onto the couch, then the other. You straddle him as you keep yourself above your hand, pumping him as he grunts. He rips his hands from the cushions and grabs the front of your dress. 

He stops himself from tearing it open and instead, plucks the top button carefully. He continues down the front until your chest is exposed. He spreads a large hand over your tit and kneads. His breath rises and falls shallowly. The feel of his rough palm against your nipple plucks at you. 

You balance on your knees and yank up your skirt. He keeps his hand on your chest, fondling eagerly, as his other frames your hip. He urges you down and you lead his tip along your folds. You bite your lip as you push him to your entrance and lower yourself little by little. 

His fingertips dig into you and a strangle sound catches in his throat. You sink down as you drone, your nerves unwinding as you give into instinct. You clasp onto his thick arm as you take him as deep as you can and blow out between your lips. 

You tilt and moan. He’s big and you’re not quite wet enough. You put your hand over his and move it from your hip along your pelvis. You guide his thumb to your clit and wiggle it, letting out a squeak at the flicker of heat. He presses more firmly and you slip your hand up your stomach. 

You rock your hips and push your head back as you let the rhythm coax you. Your eyes roll into your skull and you sigh.

There is nothing but the promise of relief. No unanswered questions, no bloodstains on the floor, no wailing winds or desolate house. There is only that fleeting release that will let you feel anything but horror, if only for a split second. 

[aspergerasparagus]

What if... Lucky Contestant and/or Real Frankie angst? 👀

<Incorrect-Finding-Frankie

You asked for this. Bad Ending unlocked. Also on Ao3

They were on the 65th season when things finally came to an end. The chat was slowly starting to lose interest in their winner. They needed someone new and Lucky had seen the writing on the wall before the new season had even started. So in hindsight it was no surprise that he had come out of the gate swinging. Literally. 

Of course Frankie had been the first to face him. He'd been getting used to playing with them first before trying to catch them so he'd let his guard down. It was only when Lucky drove the knife he'd concealed into his eye did he finally realise what was happening. Of course the fight had still been a brutal affair. Lucky being tossed around like a rag doll as the rabbit screeched in pain, lashing out blindly in search of his target. Both were bloodied by the end but living up to his name, Lucky had managed to strike the final blow by tripping the beast and sending them careening into a saw blade trap. Bloodied and beaten he continued on, clutching his broken ribs as he breath came out in short ragged bursts.

He'd ignored the Frankie on the tvs for the most part. It's not like they could do anything but to throw curses and insults his way. But even that Frankie fell silent after Lucky had made his way to the server room. Leaving only one “Frankie” left to deal with.

And so here they were, finally at the end and it was everything the rabbit had wanted and more. Frankie lay pinned under a piece of parkour equipment Lucky had managed to dislodge during their confrontation. His legs pinned down meaning he had been easy pray for when Lucky had plunged the metal pipe into his chest. Pity he didn't have the strength to hit a little deeper, seeing at the rabbit was now slowly “bleeding” out rather than the quick end his contestant had hoped for.

“You're beautiful you know that.”

“Shut up. I've heard enough from you…” Lucky was leaning against the broken screen, the chat still visible behind the cracks. He was caked in blood, sweat and oil, his breath laboured as he tried to keep himself standing. It was impressive he was still upright given the damage Frankie had done to him, the rabbit was pretty sure he'd broken their arm in the scuffle, along with their collar bone. He must be in annoy and yet he still refused to back down. Frankie could only grin wider. He was perfect!

“It's true tho. After all you've been through, all we've been through, here you finally are. My “Lucky” contestant, my money maker, my lover, my everything.” Frankie could stop the purr that escaped him as Lucky glowered at him, disgust clear on his face for the first time in a long time, haven finally discarded the mask Frankie had become accustomed to.

“Look at me more like that, my little rabbit. You know what you do to me when I get to see you angry~” Lucky went to spit out an insult, only to hiss in pain as he clutched his side the exertion of such an act too much for him right now.

“Go to hell you bastard…”

Frankie just chuckled as he watched Lucky force himself to pick up a jagged piece of scrap and begin to stumble his way over to the rabbit. He wasn't going to let the rabbit just bleed out, that was too kind of a death, no where near befitting of their relationship. He wanted it to be close and personal. A suddenly shiver went down Frankie's spine as he realised this was it. This was his end. He was going to die. When he first realised that the higher ups were going to terminate him he'd felt real fear for the first time. Terrified of the ceaseless void of nothingness that was going to take him. But now, here, facing his end, he couldn't feel anything other than absolutely ecstasy! This was beyond anything he had ever felt before and he was intoxicated.

Grinning wider he held his hand out to the man as he shuffled towards him, as he had when they had first made that deal all those years ago. A wonderful memory he had come to cherish. Sighing the man reluctantly took it as he shifted his weight to it as he continued on, it's not like Frankie could do anything now. He'd lost. Lucky had won. As he always did.

Finally reaching him the man took a moment to catch his breath, the rabbit studying him, memorising each and every detail of him in this moment.

“I wasn't lying when I said you were beautiful. Right now you are stunning, Lucky.”

“I know and that's why I wish you'd stop talking for once.” Frankie just snorted as he gently rubbed the back of their hand, soothing them for what they had to do next.

“I wonder if a small part of you will miss me? I'll miss you.”

“I… Maybe a sick part of me will miss you. But it'll fade. I'm not letting you control my life anymore. I'm getting out of here and taking what is rightfully mine.” Lucky held the rabbit's gaze as through his confession, even at this stage refusing to hide his true feelings. Truly a stunning man~

Frankie just smiled and nodded before directing the man's attention towards a spot on his head.

“My main CPU is stored here. A hard enough strike there will shut me down permanently. So try and not mess it up, it would be embarrassing to miss with such an audience watching us.” Lucky could only roll his eyes before offering a small smirk, unable to resist Frankie's charm one last time. Helping him up onto his chest, he watched as Lucky steadied himself before he raised the metal above his head ready to deal the finishing blow. To end this all. For both of them.

“Do you remember my promise? The one I made to you on our first date?” Lucky hesitated, the scrap still raised.

“Yes, as if I'd forget that. But it doesn't matter now Frankie. You've lost.”

“I know but I still intended to keep my promise my sweet little rabbit.”

Lucky didn't have a chance to react as Frankie wrapped his arms around them and contracted the springs in his arms. 

The sound of the pipe impaling them was a mix of the sickening cracking of bone and squelching of meat. His poor little contestant didn't stand a chance. He heard them cry out, gasping in pain as they tried desperately to expand their chest, but the blood quickly filling their chest charity and lungs made it impossible. (Not to mention the pipe.)

“Shhhh it's okay Lucky. I'm here. Frankie’s got you.” His tone was so soft, like a mother with their child as he cradled their shaking form closer. Coming up to pet their hair he could hear them gargling, before they hacked, blood spluttering out, covering them both. Now this was the ending they deserved. It was perfect. The triumph of the hero over the villain, only for the twist and betrayal at the end. This story was already written the moment Lucky had agreed to stay. There was no happy endings here for them.

Holding him Frankie could only let out a purr, this was practically orgasmic. The feeling of Lucky dying in his arms, by his hand, was even more perfect than he could imagine. He'd have to make sure the techs didn't erase his memory when they repaired him. He needed to remember this moment for all eternity, just so he could have it on a constant repeat in his head. This is how he wanted to remember his Lucky. Hearing them gag he snapped back, offering a small apology he nuzzled this head before leaning down to place a soft “kiss” against their forehead. 

“B-bastard… t-this was always the plan wasn't… it.” Even with his injuries he still had the ability to talk. How impressive~

“It was. You were never going to leave this place alive Lucky. And I think you knew this.” Lucky could only give a weak nod, tears slowly starting to drip down his cheeks, leaving streaks in the blood caking them.

“I… did. I…just had t-try still… Frankie i-it hurts…” Hushing him, the rabbit cuddled him close, burying his face against his hair.

“I know, just close your eyes Lucky. Just give in. It'll be over soon. I promise I won't leave you here like the others, I'll put you somewhere special. So we can be together forever~”

Lucky could only let out a weak sob, but just as Frankie had said soon he closed his eyes. His breaths becoming shallower and shallower until nothing. His body lay limply against the rabbit as they soon succumbed to their own injuries. The only sound left was the hum of the facility and the sound of multiple footsteps approaching them.

[cowgurrrl]

darlin’ i’d wait for you

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: Inspired by my real life love for my godchildren. Mis almas, no hay nadie que ame más que tú. Gracias por elegirme.

Summary: “Ten fingers. Ten toes. And even if you had none of them, you’d still be the grandest thing I’ve ever seen.” - Emily Henry, Beach Read aka you and Joel have a baby [3.0k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of labor and delivery (nothing graphic), swearing, lots of emotions, fluff

"You need to be resting!" Maria says as you pace the living room with your hands on your hips. Ellie is watching you move from her space in the kitchen, her knee bouncing with anxiety as she sits there. 

"You need to find Joel!"

"Tommy's getting him right now. Please, just lay down."

"I'm fine," another contraction ripples through your body, and you grip the back of the couch. "Fuck! I can't believe Joel convinced me to do this again!" You yell. The pain tightens in your lower abdomen, and you drop your head to the cushions, unable to focus on anything else. Strong hands press against the small of your back, applying the perfect counter pressure to your contraction. The tension releases just enough for you to pick your head up and find Maria standing over your shoulder, a knowing look in her eyes. No words need to be exchanged for her to know how grateful you are for her presence.

The contractions have been coming and going since late last night, but you didn't think much of it. They were sporadic and not painful enough to make you think you were in labor. You had false contractions with Jane and expected the same thing with this one, except that these contractions became very real very fast. Joel was already out on patrol when you had Ellie run to Tommy and Maria's for additional help because they were getting so bad. This baby is coming soon. 

"Do you have a bag ready to go?" Maria asks as the contraction ends, and you nod, pushing yourself up. 

"In our bedroom closet, but it's missing some stuff." 

"Okay, tell me what you need, and I'll pack it."

"I can do it."

"Honey, if you walk up those stairs, there's no way you'll make it back down." She says, and you sigh. Reluctantly, you list some last-minute things that need to get thrown in the bag and where they'll be. Maria turns on her heels and sprints up the stairs, ever a woman on a mission. Ellie walks over to you as Maria's figure disappears, standing awkwardly near you as you hold your belly. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to scare you." You say, wrapping her in a hug or as much of a hug as you can manage with the baby in between you. She relaxes and lets out a big breath as you rub her back.

"I feel like I should be the one comforting you." 

"I've done this before. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but that was before," the fear in her voice rattles you to your core, and you pull away to look at her. Her bottom lip is cracked and bleeding from her teeth worrying at it all morning, and she looks like the scared kid you met in Boston. "You really should be on the way to the hospital." 

"As soon as Joel gets here, I'll go, okay?" You say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head, and you open your mouth to say something more, but the vice grip returns, and you grip her shoulders. Your head bows under the weight of the pain, and you clutch Ellie like a lifeline.

"Okay, they're getting closer together. Maria!" Ellie yells as she holds you upright. You vaguely register Maria rushing down the stairs and telling Ellie something, but you don't have enough energy to listen. Time could've stopped right there, and you would've had no way of knowing. No stab wound, gunshot, or punch even comes close to this pain level. Your breathing is uneven, and you can feel yourself sweating bullets despite the cool August air. You thought you were ready. You thought you knew what to expect after Jane, but this is different. You wonder why you thought you could have another baby as the contraction fades. Maria says your name, and you pick your head up from Ellie's shoulder.

"We need to get you to the hospital right now. Joel will meet us there." She says, but you shake your head, the lump of panic in your throat tightening. Memories of begging your mom, Jane's dad, friends, or anyone to come to the hospital so you wouldn't be alone replay in your head. You were alone and scared and sixteen fucking years old when you had Jane on a stormy Tuesday morning. The nurses looked at you like a kicked puppy and mumbled, "a baby having a baby," under their breaths when they left you to cry alone while holding your newborn. 

"No, no, no. Joel's not here yet. I'm not going without him."

"I promise that Tommy will bring him to you. I'm sure they're on their way back now." 

"I'm not going by myself!" The harshness in your tone makes everybody in the room pause. "I've already done this alone once, and I'm not fucking doing it again. So, we are going to wait for Joel even if I have this baby on the fucking floor! Do you understand me?" 

"Hey," Ellie says softly. "Hey, you're not alone. At all. We're all here because we love you and want you to be safe. Nobody is going to leave, okay?" She says, rubbing your back as tears fill your eyes. 

"I can't do this." without her, you want to add, but you don't. Ellie pushes the sweaty hair out of your eyes and holds your face so you can look at her. Your breath is shaky, and you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces, but her brown eyes are looking into yours so intently that you have no choice but to look back.

"You can. You can do this. You're doing so good. You're going to have this baby, and it'll probably be the cutest fucking baby ever. And we'll all make stupid faces at it and love it even though I don't even think I like most babies, and you'll be okay. Both of you," her eyes don't move from yours as she speaks, even when you start crying. "You're not alone, but I can tell you're in pain, and we need to get to the hospital before it gets worse, okay?" She asks, and you take a shaky breath before nodding. Ellie and Maria seem to let out sighs of relief at the same time, and they start ushering you to the door when it opens.

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm sorry I'm late," Joel yells as he and Tommy run in. He smiles and runs over and kisses you. You have half a mind to smack him for looking so giddy when you're in so much pain, but let him kiss you anyway. "You ready to have a baby?" He asks as another contraction tightens in your stomach, making you squeeze him tightly. You don't get to see your family scrambling to get out the door, but you feel it. Bags and coats find owners as your entourage helps support you down the steps of your home and on the path to the hospital. 

Four contractions come and go on the way to the hospital doors, where Maria, Tommy, and Ellie cheer and promise to wait there until you're ready for them. "Almost there, baby. We're gonna get you all the good drugs, okay?" Joel tells you quietly as he flags down a nurse and a wheelchair for you. The nurse asks rapid-fire questions as she rushes you into a delivery room, and Joel does his best to answer them. You curl into yourself the second your body hits the hospital bed, yet another contraction hitting you, but this time with a familiar splitting pain. You're not going to have time for the good drugs.

The rest is a blur of doctors, nurses, questions, and Joel whispering praises into your temple. Your vision struggles to focus on anything as pain radiates from your hips to your back and up your spine. It's excruciating and dizzying, and you think you'd throw up if you weren't so focused on getting this fucking kid out. "One more, baby. One more push, and then it's over." Joel tells you. You don't respond. You can't. All the blood rushes through your ears, and you squeeze his hand hard. For a moment, the whole world stops, and tears fall down Joel's face as the tiny baby is placed on your chest. You gasp and hold them close as they screech, announcing their arrival loudly.

"It's a girl!" Someone announces, and you laugh weakly, struggling to catch your breath. You look down at your daughter and kiss her head as she continues to cry.

"You're okay. I've got you. We're okay, sweetheart. You're safe," you tell her, rubbing her back. Joel reaches out to trace the apple of her cheek and grabs her tiny hand. You and Joel join her crying, everything besides your family becoming obsolete. Joel presses a chaste kiss to your lips and smiles when you laugh against him. "I told you so." You say, and he laughs. 

"You were right," he says. "I'm so proud of you." He kisses you again as your daughter cries beautifully on your chest. Jane didn't cry at first when she was born, effectively scaring the shit out of you and everyone else in the room, but when she finally did, it was like you were breathing for the first time, too. You think this may be the first time since her death that you've felt that much peace. 

Joel cuts the cord, and the room devolves into a controlled madness with nurses and doctors calling things back and forth to each other. You don't care. The little girl on your chest has settled down and tucked her head under your chin, listening to your rapid heartbeat and recognizing the pattern. "We're right here, baby girl. We're not going anywhere, okay?" You whisper to her, kissing her over and over again. She smiles, and you immediately recognize Joel's crooked smile— nine months of carrying her and a record-breakingly fast delivery for her to be his twin. 

"Mama, we're gonna take her to get cleaned up and get her measurements, okay? The doctor's working on getting you fixed up, too." A nurse says, and you nod. 

"Just be careful, please. I made her from scratch, and it took a really fucking long time." You say as you pass her to the nurse. Everyone, including Joel, laughs even though you're serious. Joel leaves your side only to follow the nurse to the other side of the room, watching her every movement meticulously. You keep eyes on both of them. She starts fussing as the nurse cleans her up, and Joel reaches out to smooth her hair. He says something to her that you can't hear and watch him start crying again. She settles down again, but Joel is a mess. The nurse offers him a tissue, and you laugh to yourself but don't do anything to get his attention.

Let them have their secret conversation. You have a feeling it will be the first of many.

She's asleep, but you can't stop looking at her. Joel is lying in the hospital bed with you as she rests in his arms, your chin hooked over his shoulder so you can stare at her. The little girl who gave you enough excitement for a lifetime is bundled up in a white blanket with a striped hat covering her dark hair. Her legs are long and skinny, but she's strong, grasping anything within reach.

She has his nose and lips, but your eyes match. Her little chest rises and falls steadily, and little sighs come from her occasionally as she sleeps. Her hand somehow escaped the swaddle, and her fingers flex around the blanket's fabric like she's trying to decide whether she likes it. Joel reaches for her tiny hand and tries to tuck it away again, but she resists, making an angry face until he lets go. You laugh and melt simultaneously at her actions.

"She's perfect," you whisper as you kiss Joel's shoulder. He hums and turns to kiss your temple. "How did we get so lucky?"

"I've no idea," he whispers back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Her. This. Making me a dad again." His voice is so tender and raw that your eyes mist up again. You sniffle and wipe your eyes.

"Anytime, cowboy," you rest your hand on her chest to feel the little heartbeat you made from nothing but stardust and blood. Her face scrunches up in her sleep before her little fingers find yours. "Well, maybe not anytime, but you know what I meant."

"Oh, 'm ready for another one right now."

"Never in a million fucking years could you convince me to do that again."

"You did great." He says, and you smile. You're both exhausted and should be sleeping, but you can't stop looking at the life you created together. She's not even a day old, and you know you would tear the world into a thousand pieces if she asked you to. You would do anything for her.

"D'you still like the name we picked?" You ask, and he nods.

"Do you?"

"I think it's perfect for her."

"Hey, guys," a nurse peeks her head in the door. "Are we ready for some visitors?" She asks. You nod, and Joel adjusts baby girl in his arms. Her little arm reaches up in a stretch, and she fusses when she loses the grip on your hand. You tell her you're not far, and Joel bounces her. 

"Hey," Ellie says softly as she enters the room. You smile and sit up, ignoring the jarring pain in your hips at the movement. "Oh, my God. How are you feeling?" She asks as she hugs you like she's afraid she'll break you if she holds you too tight. You rub her back and kiss her head.

"I'm okay. I delivered pretty much the second they could get me to lay down."

"I knew we should've gone to the hospital sooner!" Ellie says, and Joel shushes her. She makes an eek face as she looks at him.

"A baby's tryin' to sleep here."

"Holy shit," she breathes, taking in the bundle in Joel's arms for the first time. "Girl or boy?"

"I'm pretty sure the Millers are only capable of having girls at this point," you say, and Ellie smiles. "Do you wanna hold her?" 

"Can I?" She asks as Joel stands. She's unsure what to do but copies Joel's position and puts a hand under her back.

"Support her head," Joel instructs quietly as he carefully transitions your daughter into Ellie's arms.

"I got it. I got it," she says. Instinctively, she starts swaying back and forth and patting the baby's back. Joel stays nearby, watching as Ellie gets comfortable holding her. Your heart could explode seeing the three of them together. "Who are you?" She asks quietly, pulling the blanket under the baby's chin so she can see her. 

"This is Charlotte Elaine Miller," you say. "Charlie, for short." 

"Hey there, Charlie girl. My name's Ellie."

"She's your big sister." Joel adds. Even though he's talking to Charlie, he's looking at Ellie. She takes a shaky breath as she processes his words. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. 

"I'm one of your big sisters," she says. The pregnancy hormones and the day's emotions catch up with you, and you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to. Something about seeing Ellie with Charlie hits you hard. "I've got so much to teach you and tell you about when you're a little bigger, though. There's not much I can do with you right now except, well, this," She shrugs as if to make her point to the sleeping baby, and you laugh. Charlie stretches again, probably getting used to having so much room now that she's out of you, and yawns. "Oh, big yawn. Good job." Ellie praises.

"You're a natural," Joel says, making her smile.

"I dunno about that, but she does like me. Right, Charlie girl?" she asks, and the Charlie girl in question chuffs. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together." She says sincerely. Joel meets your eyes, sending you a knowing look and a crooked smile, and you smile back a little sadly. He works at his jaw, and his Adam's apple bobs as his eyes sparkle with tears again. No words need to be exchanged. You know. You may be one of the only people who know. Ellie rambles to Charlie, ever the present audience, and you remember, silent and pious in your devotion. 

You think you'll spend your whole life remembering, a constant scramble for pieces of memories that bring her closer. You think you'll find bits of her in music, the summer sun, and your girls' eyes. You think you'll tell Charlie of her big sisters, who were loved and cherished beyond belief, and their shared adoration of Patti Smith. You think you'll be able to find a way to talk about her that doesn't feel like your soul is desperately ripping away from you. For Sarah, Jane, Ellie, and now Charlie, you think you would do anything.

Even after so much loss, destruction, and nights spent hopelessly staring at the wall like it would be enough to start Jane's heart again, you think you would do it all again. The world can be a really shitty place, and you've seen firsthand how horrible people can be to each other. You and Joel have been a million different versions of awful people, and you can never escape that. But you have Ellie and Charlie. And each other. And for a moment, in this horribly lit hospital room, every minute of that misery has meaning.

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taglist: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts​

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XI)

Chapter 11: If We Break

Hello!! We’re back with… angst… **diabolical laughter**

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1809

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You had never talked about that night, the one when you stayed.

Andrew didn’t dare to bring it up. He hated to admit it, but he had cried in the morning, when, after looking all around his house, he finally accepted that you were gone. You left a post-it note on the fridge, to thank him for the night and remind him of that afternoon you meant to spend with Sam and Daphne to plan the wedding. And that was all. It was a mix between a farewell note left to a one-night stand and a reminder to a friend. Polite. Factual. The opposite of how you behaved the previous night.

What was killing him was that he didn’t know what to make of your behaviour. You were still you, still the person he thought he knew so well… and then you pulled stunts like that. They were almost cruel, really. The pain that they left behind was enough proof that this relationship was slowly destroying him. Things needed to change. And they needed to change quickly.

Now that he knew for sure that you cared, that he wasn’t projecting feelings onto you, he needed to talk to you. This… arrangement needed to evolve. And the first step was to talk about that night.

Which was easier said than done, when your lips were glued to his neck, nibbling on the tender skin, right over his pulse, and then there was your warm tongue that made his head spin, and under his hands were your hips, and then your ribs as he slipped his fingers under your shirt…

“You’re so handsome, Andy…”

His breath caught in his throat at your words, his heart making a happy jump at the praise. His breathing was heavy and irregular into your ear.

You shifted on his laps, and he needed to stop you… he had called to talk to you, not to have sex with you. This was… incredible… but then he thought back to that empty spot in his bed, and it acted like a cold shower.

Gently, he pushed you upright.

“You’re okay?” you asked, surprised by the interruption.

He nodded, but shifted again so you would climb off him, and your expression grew even more worried.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” you asked with earnest worry, but he was quick to reassure you.

“No, of course not. That was amazing…”

“Why did you stop me then?”

“I… as lovely as this is, I didn’t call you to have sex.”

“Oh… okay. Well, if you wanted to go for a walk or something, we can still have sex and then do whatever activity you had planned.”

“I… I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh…”

You stood straighter, settling more comfortably on his couch.

“Okay… what did you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Oh…”

He noticed how tensed you were now, defensive, ready to run. He hated the sight, but this needed to be done. You cared. You cared, he knew that now. It ought to mean something…

“I just… it’s been over three months now. Don’t you think we should… make an update on things?”

“An update? On what?”

“I don’t know… but this is… like, it’s lingering. It’s been going on for a while, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop soon. So… maybe we could update some rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“Staying at night would be a good start.”

“Andy…” you sighed, looking away.

“It’s ridiculous, Y/N. We’re having sex, we’ve been having sex for months… we can sleep together.”

“No, we can’t.”

“We did, though. You stayed.”

You sucked on your teeth, and he wasn’t sure if the gesture came from annoyance or anger, but both possibilities made his blood boil.

“I couldn’t drive. And it happened once.”

“It wasn’t just that, and you know it.”

“Andy… don’t…”

“You asked me to hold you. You asked me to hold you and to not let you go! Have you forgotten that?”

You shifted, clearly uncomfortable, fleeing his gaze, but Andrew didn’t back down.

“It was more than that, and you know it. And that’s alright. Why are you reacting this way? Why the fuck did you leave that morning?”

He saw the way you struggled to swallow, as you ran your fingers through your hair because of nerves, how you blinked tears away.

“Why did you leave? You could have stayed. I would have made you breakfast, we would have talked over pancakes and bacon, you would have taken a shower, and you would have left like a normal person, instead of a fucking asshole.”

You looked at him again, throwing him a glare.

“Hey! Why are you insulting me all of a sudden?!”

“How do you think it made me feel to wake up to an empty bed?”

Your lips parted, and again, you were averting your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”

“No, Y/N. You shouldn’t have left.”

“No! No, you don’t get it! I shouldn’t have stayed!”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes everything complicated! Look at us now! We were having fun, and now we’re fighting! God, I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have gone home.”

“Why are you so fucking scared to let me in?”

You let out a bitter laugh.

“I’m not afraid…”

“No? Then why are you building so many walls between us?”

“Because it’s the only way we won’t get hurt!”

There was a moment of silence. Andrew’s throat had tightened, and he was the one to turn away now, resting his elbow against the armrest of his couch, and his cheek against his knuckles. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking, but his words were out all the same, loud and clear, despite his voice deepening.

“Well, I’m hurting.”

Silence. Nothing. Andrew waited for you, long minutes spent motionless. But he was patient and afraid, and it was your turn to speak.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to,” you spoke after a while.

You sounded sorry. But you didn’t offer anything else.

He heaved a painful sigh.

“Y/N… I just… I don’t get where this is going.”

“What do you mean? We agreed on that at the beginning.”

“It was three months ago. Haven’t things changed at all for you?”

“I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m still attracted to you. Nothing’s changed.”

But when he looked at you, he could see the truth in your eyes.

“Now, you’re lying, Y/N. If you respect me at all, then don’t lie to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t back down.

“I’m not lying. The situation hasn’t changed. We can stop though, if you don’t agree with our plan anymore.”

You offered the solution that easily, like it was that simple. Like it wouldn’t break him to lose you. Would it really be that easy for you to let him go?

“I don’t want us to stop seeing each other,” Andrew protested.

“What do you want then?”

“I’ve told you what I want. I want you to stay the night. That would be a good start.”

You seemed to ponder his words.

“Not all the time,” you negotiated. “Only if we’re really tired.”

“Only if we feel like it,” he fought back, and you took a minute to nod, but eventually you yielded.

“Okay… okay, we can do that sometimes.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Grand. That’s grand.”

“It doesn’t mean that we’re together. Or exclusive.”

He frowned at that.

“We agreed to stop this if we want to see other people.”

“Yes… yes, that’s what I meant. I meant that we can meet other people, and choose to see them again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you met someone?”

“No,” you answered, and he wondered why you were so defensive. “I was just reminding you.”

Andrew wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway.

“I know that. No need to remind me.”

“We… we’re still friends, right?” you asked, and he frowned again.

“’Course.”

“And if… if we stopped this… would we still be friends?”

He stared at you while he thought of an earnest answer. He didn’t want to lie to you. But he didn’t want to lose you either.

“Honestly… I don’t know, Y/N.”

You looked at him with so much fear in your eyes…

“I mean… this changes things, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He blinked at how fast you answered, how absolute your tone and words were.

“Y/N… we’re sleeping together.”

“Yes, and we agreed that this was a casual thing. Nothing more.”

“I… I know, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’, Andy. We agreed.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh.

“We can still stop if we don’t want the same thing. Before it’s too late for our friendship.”

He slowly shook his head. You weren’t ready for more. You weren’t ready to let him in. You were clearly in denial, because he wasn’t stupid nor was he blind. The signs were all over the place.

He took a deep breath.

It was okay. He just… needed to be more patient. It was okay, you were just scared.

“I don’t want to stop,” he answered firmly, and you nodded.

“Good. I don’t want to stop either for now.”

For now. Andrew’s heart was breaking, but he ignored it, pushed the words away until he couldn’t hear them anymore.

“Do you want some tea or something?” he asked, trying to get the tension down again.

But you shook your head, and he was surprised when you moved to straddle his laps again. Still, it was a reflex by now, really, when his hands came to rest on your hips as soon as you were settled above him.

“I’d rather pick up where we left off… if that’s fine by you,” you whispered in that suave tone that made his brain mushy and his heart melt.

Your lips came closer, but remained a breath away, and when he tried to close the space between your mouths, you moved away just enough to remain out of reach. He looked into your eyes, and read desire in your dilated pupils.

Slowly, he nodded, even if a voice in his head was ringing a warning. He ignored it as he answered in a tempting voice.

“Yeah… that sounds like a good plan. Mind reminding me where we were exactly?”

Your smile was full of mischief.

“There, I reckon,” you answered, sealing your lips back to his pulse, making him shudder, and audibly making his breathing stagger.

“Yeah… yeah, I remember now.”

He placed his hands back on your ribs, gently tracing circles on your soft skin with his thumbs, and you gasped under his touch. He let his head fall back on the backrest of the couch.

God… you would kill him one day… you would kill him with either pleasure, or pain…

[scarlett-vixen]

Shattered

A/n: Here it issss the final part of the series. I can't believe I started Vicious two years ago...and that it took me 18 months to finish the last chapter akfdjjfd anyway thank you guys for all the love and support!! I hope the wait was worth it mwah Summary: Your year in the Devildom has come to an end finally. Before you head home though, there’s one loose end that needs to be tied up, and he gives you the perfect opportunity to do so. You’ve stood up to the Avatar of Pride a few times now but things are different now that you have a pact with each of his brothers…and him as well.

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, suggestive but not NSFW

The Fight: Vicious

The Apologies: Beelzebub, Satan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan

“To the Devils who tried to keep me living like a prisoner”

Hours ago, the sound of plates being set, the smell of dinner still cooking, and the warm feeling of a family getting along filled the massive dining hall and seeped out into the hallways, drawing the last few missing members in. Moments ago, the sound of pure rage, looks of terror partnered with teary eyes, and the cold feeling of dread and guilt swelled inside the dining hall making it nearly impossible to breathe. Now, the dining hall was void of nearly all sound.

Seven dinner plates sat unfinished, left behind and forgotten in the evacuation. Four chairs stood crooked from their usual places as their occupants had hastily left, two chairs laid on their side in pitiful form as their occupants had fled the scene in full force, one chair laid on its back far from the table almost lost from its counterparts. The force with which it was knocked back could still be felt in the air, a rage that was thick and unsettling, even though the one responsible had been the first to abandon the dinner. The last chair at the enormous oak table sat upright in its typical spot with its usual resident still seated and soaking in the aftermath, alone at the table and trying to process what exactly just happened.

“I’ve busted my ass!...I’ve jumped through every hoop!...I did my best! SO WHERE WERE YOU?”

Lucifer’s fist slammed against the table causing the plates to jump in fear, the glasses rocked anxiously, the liquid inside them threatening to spill but seeming to know better in this situation.

How dare you?

How dare you raise your voice with him? How dare you accuse him of not caring about the exchange program by letting you be in danger? Where exactly did you get off throwing around such powerful questions and accusations? And towards him of all demons??

He knew the answer to all those questions though. Yes, you were the exchange student that Diavolo was so proud and fond of, but you had become so much more than that.

You were the one who had managed to break down every wall his brothers had put up.

“I did my best to get along with your brothers and help them with their problems!”

Lucifer rose and began clearing off the abandoned dinner table. You were the one who managed to free Belphegor from the attic despite the magic placed on the door and stairwell.

“And as a thank you for all that I did.”

You were the one who tested him at every turn, never backing down and standing your ground even when faced with possible death.

“You think you have all humans figured out, don’t you?”

You were a pain in his ass.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

You were the reason he started to understand why Lilith had done what she did.

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

The sound of glass shattering jolted Lucifer out of the trance he had been in. While removing a wine glass from the table, the first born caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror that was hung on the back wall. Looking at himself and wondering how the hell he had let this all happen, how such a noble demon had slipped up so badly, your words echoed in his head and the glass fell from his hand like the final leaf on a tree before winter sets in.

Lucifer stared down at the shattered glass that was scattered at his feet. You always seemed to attract trouble wherever you went, perhaps that was just how it was for a human in the Devildom--- Devil knows Solomon seemed to be a disaster beacon when he visited--- but regardless of whether you went looking for trouble or it just had a way of finding you, Diavolo had placed you in the care of the six (now seven) brothers and at the end of the day it was Lucifer’s job to ensure your safety and clean up the mess left behind.

But this time he failed the first part, so now he was left to pick up the pieces he was responsible for breaking.

******

The next morning had been even more unusual than Lucifer had expected. With a cautious gaze he watched as you commanded the youngest brother to follow you out of the house and, to his complete surprise, watched as Belphie instantly jumped up to follow after. Something strange was going on. Twelve hours ago, you were red in the face and looked ready to jump across the table to rip Belphegor to shreds, now you were ordering him to follow you around. Clearly a change in dynamics had occurred, but Lucifer was unsure of how to feel about the sudden shift. Normally he would demand an explanation before you had a chance to leave the house, but the wave of guilt was still pulling at him from last night, on top of that the first born knew that both you and his youngest brother would both be in very sensitive states. For now, he would wait and see if he could put the pieces together himself.

All morning Lucifer found himself rather distracted from his daily tasks, thinking of where you might be and if Belphegor was also with you, what exactly had happened between you two in such a short time. Eventually he found himself watching you two from the second floor of Hexes Hall, standing in an empty classroom with a window that looked out over the courtyard where various demons and succubi were having lunch. Seated at a table towards the side was the odd pair that had captured plenty of attention today from numerous students yet somehow (thankfully) had stayed out of the gaze of any higher ups.

Typically, Lucifer could ask Mammon what was going on because, aside from knowing better than to lie when directly confronted, he seemed to be an open book when it came to you. In fact, there had been times that Mammon had gone to Lucifer questioning if you would be safe in certain situations and would even give subtle hints that the two of you may end up in trouble later. Not to say his brother was trying to narc on you, far from it rather, it was more that when it came to you Mammon was always more concerned about your safety than anything else. So if anyone would know about you being in potential danger, it would be him. However, the second born was not in attendance today which left Lucifer with no good source of intel on you. There was always Barbatos but that would most certainly prompt questions from Lord Diavolo and that was the last thing Lucifer needed right now.

A familiar voice echoed out in the hallway, Lucifer glided towards the door and waited for the demon to pass by before calling his name.

“Beelzebub.” The sixth born froze in the hall at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turned to face his older brother and Lucifer noticed an odd look on his face. One of shame and sorrow rather than his normal stoic yet happy expression.

“Is something wrong Lucifer?” he asked, shifting his bag slightly on his shoulder.

“I need to speak with you,” the first born started to turn back into the room but caught sight of the two demons who had been walking with his brother. “Alone.”

Lucifer gestured into the classroom and Beelzebub reluctantly followed after waving off the other two demons he had been with. Once inside Lucifer closed the door to prevent any wandering ears from lingering.

“I want to know what’s going on between them.” Per usual Lucifer’s words came across more as a direct order than a question.

“Between who?” Beelzebub had a look of genuine confusion on his face.

“Between your twin and our exchange student. The two who were just as each other’s throats last night but now seem joined at the hip.” Lucifer’s gaze was as cold and stern as always but this time it hurt Beelzebub more given the circumstances.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Beelzebub something has clearly happened and I want to know why they’re suddenly letting him be so close!”

“Nothing happened! I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Lucifer knew when each of his brothers was lying, they all had a tell, unfortunately for Beel his was total avoidance of eye contact. The sixth born knew something and Lucifer knew his brother wasn’t going to give that information up easily, not when he was protecting one of you. So instead, he would have to play dirty.

“Really? You have no idea what’s going on between them?” Lucifer gave an unamused scoff and walked back toward the window where he had stood before. “I’m not the only one who has noticed the change Beelzebub, seems to me that half the academy has taken notice.”

The sixth born seemed to move against his will toward the window, looking out to see you and Belphegor talking down below. His body flinched; Lucifer could tell he was uneasy.

“It won’t be long before this reaches Lord Diavolo’s attention…and I would hate to think what would become of Belphegor if it was discovered that ill intent was at play here.”

Beel’s head snapped toward Lucifer at that last part, his eyes seemed to glow with a hint of rage.

“What exactly does that mean?” He asked with a guarded tone.

“It means nothing…or possibly many things, that all depends on how exactly your twin managed to win over his former enemy.” Lucifer stayed put but shifted his gaze to see his younger brother from the corner of his eye. He could see the frustration on Beel’s face and knew it wouldn’t be long before he spilled everything he knew…or so he thought.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at Lucifer…and I don’t know what happened between them but I DO know that I won’t let you accuse Belphie of using some dark magic or evil power to get on MC’s good side! He’s not like that!”

“Oh please, the same demon who started all of this? You really think he wouldn’t stoop to that level Beelzebub?” Lucifer now turned to face his brother.

“No… I know he wouldn’t! Belphie fucked up but you can’t accuse him of every mistake for the rest of his life, that’s not fair!”

“This isn’t about fair Beel, this is about figuring out why he was forgiven so quickly!” Both their voices were starting to rise in anger.

“So you just assume he did something bad? Maybe they talked it out! I don’t know what happened but I’m done discussing this with you, you want answers go ask them yourself, but don’t come to me with accusations about Belphie anymore!” Beel took one step toward Lucifer, feeling his aura wanting to change, his wings and horns trying to emerge and his fangs trying to push through. No. Not this time, he had caused enough problems letting his rage blind him before, he had almost killed you by doing that. Instead Beel turned on his heel and headed out of the room, opening the door he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer once more.

“He’s your brother too you know… not just my twin.” With that Beel slammed the door shut behind him. Lucifer wanted to be mad but he knew this was all his doing, what had he truly expected to come from that? The eldest knew he needed to correct things so he hurried toward the door and called after his brother.

“Beel! BEELZEBUB!” The sixth born kept walking, until finally he was out of sight.

“Damnit..” Lucifer muttered. One more piece to pick up later.

“Well Lucifer…are you proud of yourself?”

The first born tensed up, immediately upon hearing the voice a headache started to form in the front of Lucifer’s mind. He had been wrong earlier; this was the last thing he needed. He didn’t need to turn to know who he had the displeasure of being in the presence of, yet he did, and instantly regretted it. There, leaned against the lockers, stood that damn sorcerer with the same shit eating grin on his face he always had when he managed to catch Lucifer with his guard down. If he wasn’t a necessary part of Diavolo’s program, Lucifer swore he would have destroyed this stain on humanity long ago.

“What is it Solomon, here to shamelessly beg for another pact?” Lucifer smirked, trying his best not to show his total irritation.

“Would that actually work?” Solomon suddenly had a look of awe in his eyes as if Lucifer had just offered to give him a pact as well as let him move into the HoL. “I’ll start begging right now if that’s all it takes Lucifer, on my knees and everything!”

Lucifer sneered as the sorcerer pretended to beg for a moment. Then through gritted teeth spoke again.

“What do you want.”

“Nothing really,” Solomon gave a light chuckle “it’s just come to my attention that there’s some…tension between residence of the House of Lamentation.”

A sly grin appeared on Solomon’s face, one that Lucifer knew meant the sorcerer knew more than he was letting on. For a moment he wondered if you had gone to him, seeking the comfort of another human after the fallout of last nights dinner, the thought made Lucifer sick to his stomach, but only for a moment until he realized the more likely answer.

“What exactly did Asmodeus tell you.” His voice was much sterner than he ever used with his brothers, even during more recent events. This was a family matter, one that he was already trying to figure out how to resolve quickly, he didn’t need Solomon sticking his nose into things.

“Why? Worried that your brother told me something I shouldn’t know?” the sorcerer teased; knowing better than to go too much further with it. The look of irritation in Lucifer’s eyes was growing more apparent and, as much as Solomon wanted to see just how far he could push the Avatar of Pride before causing him to make a scene, he didn’t want to ruin his already slim chances of ever getting that pact. “No need to fret,” he offered a smile as if to say he was backing down. “Asmo was so worked up that all I really got out of him was that something happened last night at dinner, other than that I have noticed the…unusual relationship that seems to have blossomed between Belphie and our little exchange student, then there’s the way Beel just stormed out of that room with you calling after which I’ll assume means the two of you had a not so enjoyable conversation. Care to enlighten me?”

“Firstly, the conversation I had with Beelzebub is none of your concern, nor is what occurred last night at dinner. That being said, I would advise you to leave Asmodeus alone regarding the matter, you of all people know how he can be when his emotions run high.” Lucifer could feel his temper rising, he never cared much for Solomon and always wondered if his disdain for the shady wizard hadn’t pushed his brother further into his arms. And why did he suddenly seem to care about your relationships with his brothers, Lucifer was confident that his younger brother could handle himself if Solomon ever tried to pull something on him, but he’d be damned if he was going to let Solomon try to go after you. “Secondly, they are not your anything. They are Lord Diavolo’s exchange student and my responsibility, as for their relationship with Belphie… that doesn’t seem to be any of your business either.”

“Of course, how silly of me to think the mighty Lucifer would need any help or advice from a human such as myself in this matter.” Solomon teased once more before continuing on his way down the hall, stopping to turn around and speak one last time. “If you do find yourself in need of help, do reach out to me! There’s no need to be shy Lucifer.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” The first born growled in response. Solomon gave another sly smirk before disappearing down the corridor. Lucifer stood for a moment trying to compose himself after the argument with Beelzebub and that unwanted interaction with Solomon just now, his pride wanted to confront you and force an explanation out of you, for both the dinner and what had transpired with Belphie last night.

Over the last several months Lucifer had watched you from afar, observing your interactions with his brothers, the relationships you had formed, the way they seemed happier and more relaxed with you around. More importantly he had watched how his brothers personalities had developed more into their own and less of just what their sin made them out to be.

The way that Mammon seemed to care less about his schemes and profits when he could spend time with you instead, how Leviathan was more willing to join group outings without complaining about how everyone else seemed to be having more fun when you were with them, and how Satan seemed to find a way to calm himself to prevent an outburst if you were next to him. He noticed how you managed to captivate and hold Asmodeus’s attention even with a mirror in the room, the way Beelzebub’s appetite seemed easier to satiate when you cooked, and even though he had only rejoined the group for a few weeks Lucifer noticed how Belphegor appeared less tired and more engage when you were involved in the situation.

Avatar of Pride came with many setbacks, the main one being the inability to express his feelings in an appropriate manner. It wasn’t that Lucifer was as cold and closed off as his brothers and other demons perceived him, it was that his sin, his pride, kept him from saying the things he truly wanted to. This wasn’t a new predicament for him though, even as an angel Lucifer had struggled with showing his love and appreciation, it had only worsened since being saddled with the sin of pride. The truth was that he had envied his brothers for being so close to you, more than anything he wanted to be like them, to be able to let his walls down and talk to you like everybody else. He wanted whatever bond it was his brothers had with you that would quell his pride and give him the chance to freely interact with you.

Maybe it was his desire to not be so controlled by his sin, or perhaps it was the guilt still eating at him. Whatever the reason was, Lucifer started down the hall but instead of barging into the courtyard for answers he retreated to Diavolo’s office. He chose to focus on his tasks and let you mend you bonds with his brothers in peace, well aware that eventually the time would come for him to have his own confrontation, but for now he would sit back and observe.

Just like he had for the last seven months.

******

“Mammon! Ugh, you suck so bad! How did you even die right there?” Leviathan groaned while waving his controller around wildly in a desperate attempt to still complete the level.

“Don’t ask me! How do you jump in this game anyway?!” Mammon barked, aggressively spamming the B button.

“The A button! It’s always the A button!!” Levi scolded.

The two of them had been bickering for the last hour while playing Levi’s newest game, although they sounded irritated with each other you could tell they were enjoying the game immensely. You couldn’t help but laugh as Mammon died yet again and Levi went into full dramatics over it. On the bed behind you Satan was busy giving an educational lecture about…something, while Asmo, Beel and Belphie listened. You honestly had no idea what they were talking about but seeing them all together and getting along made you happy.

You had made amends with the brothers, explaining why you were so hurt by their actions and finally getting apologies from them, Belphie had learned his position and had become your obedient servant as it were. Everyone was getting along, the previous tension was long gone, you were thrilled to have everything back to normal and be on speaking terms with all the brothers once more.

Well…all but one.

Ever since the fatal night, there had been one demon who seemed to successfully avoid you at every turn. Sure, you saw him at breakfast and dinner but that was clearly just to keep good face with his brothers, his way of not letting them know that the two of you had not spoken since the blowout. He always managed to finish his breakfast shortly after you joined but never soon enough to be noticed by his brothers, the only time you saw him at RAD was in passing between classes and typically he was always talking with Diavolo or some random professor, once dinner was over he would manage to lock himself away in his bedroom or study for the evening only to reappear at breakfast and start the cycle again. There were a hand full of occasions where the eight of you had gone out as a group, a few joined by the angels and Solomon, but even then he kept his interactions with you short.

You knew the main reason for this was because of Lucifer’s sin, it would be shameful for a powerful demon such as him to admit defeat or show weakness to a mere human such as yourself you were sure, but Lucifer seemed to have forgotten that you were stubborn and prideful yourself. You refused to be the one to crack, to go to him and seek an end to this ridiculous feud, you would wait until he managed to swallow that damn pride and approach you.

Apparently, Lucifer wasn’t very good at swallowing.

Tonight was your final night in the Devildom and that old man had yet to apologize for everything he put you through this year, all the dumb tasks you had to do, the never-ending events to support RAD, the various balls and dinners you had attended, not to mention the three accounts of murder he had attempted towards you. The thought of you returning home without Lucifer being held accountable for all the shit you went through was more than irritating, you considered confronting him tomorrow in front of Diavolo mainly so you could see the horror on his face as you tore into him in front of his precious prince, but you really didn’t want a repeat of That Night. You looked around at the six brothers, all deeply absorbed in whatever they were doing, and decided to go for a walk.

You got up from your spot on the bed and headed towards the door leading downstairs, only to catch the attention of your loyal servant.

“Where are you going?” Belphie sat up on the bed and looked at you the way a dog watching its owner leave for work would. You could tell he wanted to get up and follow but was waiting for your orders to do so, you were proud of how well you had trained him in the last few months and almost felt bad leaving him behind tomorrow.

“I’m just getting a drink!” You gave a reassuring smile in an attempt to keep him from wanting to follow and it seemed to work. Belphie sank back onto the bed before answering.

“Alright…don’t take too long.” You could tell he was forlorn.

You headed downstairs and only felt a little bad about lying to Belphie, technically it was only a half lie which is why you only felt a little bad. Sure, you were going to grab a drink from the kitchen, but you were going for something else.

You were getting that damn apology.

As you approached the bottom of the stairs you heard a faint melody coming from somewhere down the hall, recognizing it as a record playing you decided your drink could wait and followed the sound towards your potential prey. The soft symphony led you to Lucifer’s study, you lingered for a moment wondering if he was actually in there or if he was just throwing you off his tracks, after a moment you knocked on the thick wooden door. Twelve months ago you would have been terrified to confront Lucifer, the first born demon lord, Avatar of pride, but as you stood in front of his door there was no fear in you.

Only determination.

“It’s open” the familiar stoic voice stated from inside.

Opening the study door, you found Lucifer standing at the bar on the right side of the room, the heavy jacket he normally wore missing from his shoulders and instead neatly placed on the back of the large chair behind his desk, an elegant, bejeweled chalice in his hand as he poured himself a glass of Demonus. You carefully closed the door behind you while still facing the demon across the room, stealthily you reached your hand behind your back and quietly locked the deadbolt, you didn’t want any sudden interruptions tonight.

“I thought you were upstairs with the others enjoying your final evening here.” Lucifer spoke as he set the Demonus bottle on the bar and replaced the cork.

“I was, but I got thirsty… Beel went through all the drinks upstairs so I was on my way to the kitchen.” You slowly moved further into the room, making your way toward the lounge chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Well, you’re welcome to join me since you’re here,” Lucifer held out a second gorgeous chalice, decorated slightly different but obvious that it belonged in the same set as his. You took the chalice from him and he made his way over to a chair, you perused your options at the bar but settled on Demonus, it didn’t get you drunk but had a wonderful taste, it was probably best you didn’t end up intoxicated during this anyway. “That noise up there gives me the perfect opportunity to listen to my records in peace down here, so I guess I should thank you for whatever you did to lure them all up there.”

Lure them?? Why did he have to make you sound like a monster waiting to devour his brothers? Whatever. You let it go and tried to focus on the task at hand, admittedly there was something…primal that you had felt when confronting a few of his brothers recently so maybe he wasn’t completely in the wrong. Regardless, you decided to play nice for now.

“What are we listening to anyway?” You could feel his gaze on you as you poured your drink, you couldn’t place it but something about his behavior seemed a little off.

“The cursed vinyl edition of The Tale of the Seven Lords, the one you managed to acquire from Leviathan for me.” The usual stern matter-of-fact tone of his was missing, in its place was an unfamiliar, friendlier one.

“Don’t people say you’ll die if you listen to it?” You placed the cork back in the Demonus bottle and turned to take your seat. Doing so you caught Lucifer looking at you in a way that was new to you, though it didn’t last long as he quickly turned his sight away and down to his glass when he realized you were looking at him.

“I see you haven’t forgotten the story behind it,” he gave a soft chuckle but rather than his usual mocking one, this was much more amused. “It’s true that all humans involved with its creation died mysterious deaths, but that was nothing more than coincidence.”

You took your seat in the chair adjacent to his, making yourself comfortable before he continued. As you did you got your first good look of the evening at the first born. He wore his usual vest and dress shirt combo but his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving you sight of his forearms which were much larger than you remembered, his gloves were also gone, discarded somewhere else in the room (on his desk you assumed) letting you see his hands which were a rare sight to see in general, but tonight they were adorned with three different rings. A thick silver band on the index finger of his left hand with something inscribed on the side, a small golden ring on the pinky of his right hand that was greatly overshadowed by the massive ring on his index of the same hand. An onyx-black band with two thin gold lines that curved up into what looked almost like two small claws holding the largest ruby you had ever seen. Drawing your eyes away from his hands you noticed his usual red tie was missing and the top two buttons on his shirt were undone, his hair was a messier than the prideful demon normally kept it, and upon closer inspection you found his cheeks to be dusted a light pink. You immediately realized why his demeanor seemed off and couldn’t help but smirk.

The asshole was drunk.

“Besides, even if this vinyl were truly cursed, look who you’ve got by your side. You’re talking to one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. There’s not much to worry about now is there?” a not-so-subtle brag by the not-so-sober demon. You wanted to tease him, maybe even make fun of him a bit, for letting you see him like this. Obviously this wasn’t the first time Lucifer had drunk around you, it was, however, the first time you had smelt this cologne on him. You held your tongue and took a sip of your drink, buying you time to think of a response that wasn’t a snarky or smartass joke at his expense.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finally settled on.

“You know, it was in this very room that I selected you for our exchange program.”

Oh, here we go.

You rolled your eyes and took another swig of your drink, suddenly wishing humans weren’t immune to Demonus. Lucifer swirled his glass gently before going on, his eyes locked on the fireplace in front of you.

“When I first welcomed you here…I was only doing it for Diavolo.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction, if looks could kill he would be taking his last breath. Was he seriously about to start a fight with you, in his current state? Maybe he had to be drunk in order work up the nerve to finish you off.

“I figured that if you managed to survive a year here without any incidents…that was all I could really ask for. And even if things didn’t go as planned, as long as I could prevent you from getting eaten by any of the lower-level demons, everything would be alright.”

“Oh, but trying to kill me yourself was perfectly valid?” You muttered under your breath a little louder than intended, thankfully Lucifer was too lost in the flames dancing before him to hear you.

“That’s really what I thought…but somehow I managed to choose a human who’s such a magnet for trouble it almost defies belief.” Lucifer scoffed and shifted his gaze to his drink. “There were times I thought I’d made a mistake choosing you.”

You felt the familiar warmth of your rage starting to dance across your skin, you wanted to snap, to tell him off right here and now, but you were waiting for the perfect moment. This wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry for being such a burden.” You practically hissed. You were doing your best to hold your temper but Lucifer’s arrogance still managed to shine through even when drunk.

“It’s far too late to be trying to suck up to me with apologies, you know?”

Arrogant ass.

“Also, there’s no need…things are different now. I made the right choice choosing you, after all you’ve kept me quite entertained this past year.”

Entertained? You entertained him?? You didn’t really consider being forced to choose between protecting Beel or Luke entertaining, nor being attacked by Lucifer. Nearly being crushed to death while dancing with him at the Demon Lord’s Castle all because he was ensuring you understood he would destroy you if you harmed his brothers wasn’t a joy ride either. Let’s not forget the time the brothers trapped the two of you in a fake game and Lucifer almost killed you when you revealed you had met Belphie to him, that had gone in the opposite direction of entertaining. You remembered all the snide comments as well, the reminders that you were just a human and here as a part of the exchange program, that if Diavolo’s plans failed because of you--- you bit your tongue to stop the words from flying out of your mouth.

“Glad I could be of service.” You managed.

“So then,” He seemed to shake himself off before looking back at you finally. “have you done all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business?”

You started to demand your apology when the tingle of Satan’s pact mark sparked something in your mind.

“Actually Lucifer, I still haven’t made a pact with you. I think that’s the last thing on my list” You took a slow sip and watched the eyes of the first born go wide only briefly before slowly tilting his head in curiosity.

“A pact?” His voice suddenly much deeper than before; it caused a jolt to run up your spine. “I see, you’ve made a pact with all of my brothers…which just leaves me.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips. “Do you really want a pact with me?”

You could feel the steady beat of your heart in your chest, your mind suddenly fuzzy and your rage now mixed with a different feeling. His demeanor had changed again, still obviously drunk but now you had his full attention, his eyes locked on you and awaiting your response. While scrambling to sort out your thoughts you made a connection that you had missed before, the rolled-up sleeves, the unbuttoned shirt, the intoxicating cologne, the beautiful rings, the gorgeous glasses, the vinyl record still playing in the background…the Demonus. Lucifer hadn’t gotten himself drunk so he could finally kill you off, he had done it so he could make a move.

You suddenly realized what the look in his eyes was, this was all some form of a demon mating ritual, a trap that he lured you into--- lured? Damnit! He wanted you down here, he wanted you to ask for a pact, when you did you triggered something in him and now you suddenly felt like the prey. On top of this horrifying discovery, you also identified what the odd feeling was.

Along with Satan’s pact mark, that was still simmering on your skin, Asmo’s pact mark was also starting to tingle. You felt like throwing up for a moment, what the hell was wrong with you?? Admittedly you had always had a thing for Lucifer, he may have been an ass at times but which brother wasn’t? It was never anything serious though, just an innocent crush or at the very least recognizing that he was good-looking for a centuries old demon. So why the hell was this the situation that was turning you on? Yes he was very pretty to look at in the glow of the fireplace, but hadn’t he just insulted you like three times and brought up some sore memories??

“What’s so wrong with that?” You heard your voice say, unable to tell if the question was directed at Lucifer or yourself. All you got in response was an amused huff from the demon who now had you in a slight trance, was this some weird demonic power of his?

“I don’t know how my brothers felt about making a pact with you, but I am more than just another name to be crossed off your list.” Lucifer placed his glass on the table between you, sitting straight up in his chair you realized just how much bigger than you he really was. No comparison to Beel or Diavolo but after spending most of your time with demons like Mammon and Asmodeus, Lucifer’s build was intimidating; especially when you no longer seemed to be in control of the situation. You watched as he rose from his seat and strode over to his desk, lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the box he had pulled from his jacket.

“I won’t be lumped together with everyone else.” Lucifer turned back toward you, taking his time to walk back over. Without realizing it, you were suddenly standing up, your own glass now resting next to his on the table, and your feet seemed to be moving on their own. Lucifer had stopped moving but you were inching your way to him now as if an invisible rope were pulling you in.

“That won’t do.” You watched as his eyes shifted to the deep red you had seen on those rare unpleasant occasions, the horns on his head seemed to grow effortlessly without messing up his hair, his four jet black wings emerged and expanded as if to make him appear bigger. You were familiar with this part. This was where Lucifer tried to intimidate you, make you afraid and turn tail, or drop to your knees in submission, you were never really sure what he was looking for because you never did any of those things. Instead, you did what you always did in this situation.

You stood your ground.

“You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you irritating, and yet, as irritating as it is,” Lucifer reached his right hand up and lightly gripped your face. “it’s even more endearing.”

You were almost positive he could hear the pounding of your heart. This all felt overwhelmingly familiar, you preferred the version where you were in charge and held all the cards with Belphie, but no matter what he did next you would never give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Listen well little human,” Your eyes locked onto his, his right hand tilted your chin up slightly while his left hand pressed against your back to pull you closer. “I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

You felt your body tense momentarily, this didn’t excuse his actions, this wasn’t the apology you wanted, but you didn’t not want this pact. You tried to stay grounded, to keep your mind from flying off into the abyss, to not be completely overpowered by Lucifer’s aura.

“So, what will it be?” His grip on your face loosened and his hand fell away from your back. Something in your mind panicked, it felt abandoned suddenly, it needed his touch again.

“Yes.” You tried not to sound too desperate with that answer. You’d beat yourself up later for turning to putty in his hands, for now you had to focus, you were so close. You saw a genuine smile form on his face this time.

“Good, then it’s done. As of this moment,” Lucifer reached into his pocket and pulled out the box you had missed him pick up before. He opened it and inside was another gorgeous ring, almost identical to the large one he wore, a black band with a beautiful ruby posted in the center, smaller and sleeker than his but just as mesmerizing. He took your hand in his and gently slipped the ring onto your finger, as if by magic, you felt the band slowly start to form to you. “you are mine.”

You were busy inspecting the gaudy ring that now rested on your finger when a familiar burning sensation started, you took in a sharp breath of air as you felt a new pact mark forming on your skin, you had been through this six times already and each one had been less painful. This one, however, felt different, the burn was deeper and hotter than the others, you felt a little dizzy and closed your eyes from the intense pain, a bright blue symbol flashed in your mind as you did. You recognized it as Lucifer’s mark, opening your eyes again you found the first born looking at you with adoring eyes, his sight fixated on the pact mark that was glowing a brilliant blue. The excessive pain made sense now, this was the burn of a new pact mark along with both you and Lucifer feeling intense pride at the same time.

Aside from the overwhelming sense of pride in yourself for managing to pull this stunt off and not make a fool of yourself, something else was growing inside you. Your mind seemed clearer than before, no longer panicked or intoxicated by Lucifer’s power, you remembered the real reason you had come down here. You felt your rage returning but this time it felt intensified, your body felt lighter yet stronger than before, Lucifer no longer registered as a threat to you, there had been another dynamic shift but it wasn’t quite as obvious to the demon tracing your new pact mark.

This was the moment you had been waiting for.

“I agree that you’re different from the others,” you grabbed the wrist of his hand tracing your skin with a force that seemed to catch him off guard. “however, there’s one thing you got wrong.”

You pulled his hand away from your skin, a look of confusion and caution taking over his features. All the pain, all the tears, every insult, every fight, every bad day, every day you woke up scared all came flooding back to you at once. Satan’s mark glowed a beautiful emerald green against your skin while Lucifer’s continued to glow as well, he gave no visual signs but somehow you knew Lucifer was uncomfortable, as if you could sense his fear. Just like the night you had broken Belphie, the fear you sensed was feeding something inside you, filling you with that same confidence.

“It’s true that you’re a very powerful demon Lucifer, you could handle any of your brothers if they ever went rogue and not a break a sweat, really the only demon here that outranks you is Lord Diavolo himself,” You felt his mark tingle on you and knew you were feeding that ego of his. “And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have this pact with you now! If I’m honest this is probably the mark I’m happiest to wear!”

Time to destroy it.

“Because that means you answer to me now.” Your voice was soft yet powerful. You narrowed your eyes and felt a grin on your lips, the fear was now apparent on Lucifer’s face, this was too good to be true.

“Over the last year I’ve been through my fair share of shit from you and your brothers, I’ve been the good little human you asked me to be but guess what my love? Even good humans go bad when pushed too far.” Just like before you started taking steps closer without realizing it.

“I’m aware that we put you through a lot, and I know Belphegor’s actions---” a psychotic type of laugh ripped from your throat.

“Oh, this has nothing to do with Belphie. See I’ve had fun little chats with your brothers, I think the most fun one was with Belphie himself the night that I snapped at dinner when he stopped by my room.” You watched Lucifer’s eyes go wide just like earlier, except this time there was a hint of betrayal in them.

“I know you’ve been oh so curious about what happened between him and I that night. Beel told me how you practically cornered him wanting to know what went on. You’re just dying to know how I turned a brat like Belphie into such a good boy who does what he’s told aren’t you?” With every word the look on Lucifer’s face worsened, like you were digging in his chest searching for his heart, and in a way you were.

You wanted him to break, just like Belphie.

“Well, how else would a human corrupt a demon so quickly?” You saw a grimace on the first born’s face, that one struck a nerve. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let him into my bed, he knows his place is on the floor. If you really need to know, he and I had a little… conversation, similar to the one you and I are having now actually. Let’s see if you can unlock a different ending though.” You gave a teasing wink.

“I’m here to discuss the issues you and I have had in the past, nothing to do with your brothers, in fact for the rest of the night let’s just act like they don’t exist shall we?” Lucifer had started to take small steps backward as you closed the gap between the two of you, his pride was trying to keep him in place but you knew it was slowly bowing down to you, you could feel it.

“Let’s talk about how you treated me when I first arrived, back when you were ‘just doing it for Diavolo’ as you put it.”

“That’s not what I---"

 “Let’s discuss all the fun and entertaining moments where you tried to attack and kill me.”

“I realize I overreact---”

“Let’s go over how you threatened to kill me if I ever harmed your brothers and the ironic twist of how you let your youngest brother harm me instead!”

“Please, just let me---”

“Let you do what Lucifer? Let you smooth talk your way out of apologizing? Let you convince me that you were just having a hard time controlling your brothers? Let you distract me long enough to call your precious prince so you don’t have to take responsibility for how you behaved?”

“No, I just---”

“You see sweetheart, I just don’t care. I’ve done my part of listening to you for the last twelve months, tonight you’re going to listen to me instead.”

You had unintentionally forced Lucifer to back into the chair he sat in before, the back of his legs made contact with the seat causing him to stumble for a moment before regaining his balance. Similar to Belphie, you could sense his fear, but this time you could sense some pride still running through him as well. What could he possibly still be proud of? Pushing you to your limit? Or did he still have one more trick up his sleeve somehow? “You talk a big game, you know that?” Your eyes narrowed with annoyance and anger. Whatever he was proud of, you’d make sure to squash it. “You spent all that time telling Diavolo how you were happy to assist him and house the new exchange student. You paraded me around to every event and dance Diavolo held. You made me keep my head down so I wouldn’t embarrass the prince and subsequently, you. But it was all an act wasn’t it?”

A look of hurt flashed across the first born’s face. You felt that familiar rage burning deep inside you again, the one that wanted flip the table and throw plates at dinner, this time you just might set it free.

“You never really cared about my safety. You just didn’t want to upset or disappoint that prince of yours. I was an inconvenience to you actually, preventing you from focusing on more important matters, you loathed that Diavolo saddled you with caring for me. Didn’t he know you already had six, well…five brothers to look after?” a devious smirk crept onto your face. “But who were you to protest, hm? After all he saved your precious Lilith.”

The fire inside you flared up as you growled her name. You still didn’t fully believe that you were somehow related to her, it just seemed too convenient, but the brothers sure believed it.

“You only put up with me for her didn’t you? Did learning that we were related make it easier for you to accept my existence? Did you suddenly stop seeing me and pretend you saw her when I walked in the room? Or do you think I somehow am her? Because I’m not!” Your fists clenched by your side. You knew by now Satan was upstairs struggling to keep his composure, not wanting to alert the others that you were pissed off somewhere in the house. “I AM NOTHING LIKE HER!” You felt a sting in your throat and small tears trying to push their way to freedom. “It would’ve been so much easier for you if Belphie had gotten away with it wouldn’t it?? If Mammon hadn’t found him and I had just died! That’s why you didn’t save me ISN’T IT? YOU WANTED ME DEAD? YOU WANTED ME OUT OF YOUR HAIR!?”

“NO!”

His voice strained, the red in his cheeks now sprawled across his face. He jumped slightly after shouting, as if he startled himself with the outburst as well, then collapsed in the chair behind him. You watched his eyes fill with an unfamiliar hurt, his breathing became shaky,his wings went limp, his voice weak as it searched for words to say.

“That’s…that’s not what I wanted…it never was.”

“Then what did you want, Lucifer?” You seethed. A few seconds passed as you watched the once arrogant demon now struggle to find his voice. Your patience was running out. “Enlighten me.”

“I just…I wanted to have the same bond my brothers did…I wanted to be close with you—” Another maniacal laugh from you cut off the end of his sentence.

“And you think the way to do that is to constantly threaten me?? To always remind me that I’m nothing more than just a lowly human?? TO LET YOUR BROTHER KILL ME???” You could almost feel the fire in your eyes, your teeth bared as you did your best to not start swinging your fists.

“NO!”

“And yet you did! You did all of that Lucifer! Plus more! I FUCKING DIED AND YET YOU’VE NEVER ONCE SAID YOU WERE SORRY FOR ANY OF IT!”

“BUT I AM!”

“THEN SAY IT! SAY YOU’RE FUCKING SORRY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH!”

“I’M SORRY!! I LOVE YOU AND I’M SORRY!!” Lucifer’s voice cracked as he shouted at the top of his lungs. You were certain that the other six heard the screaming match that just happened all the way in the attic and wondered if they too had caught that middle part in between his apology.

“What?” You weren’t sure if it was because you had been caught off guard by the sudden confession or if his apology had finally satisfied the rage inside you, but your voice dropped back to its normal tone as you looked at Lucifer now sobbing into his hands.

“I’m sorry I was so wretched toward you” The first born looked up at you with pitiful eyes, tears streaming down his now bright red cheeks. “I’m sorry for saying such vile things, for making you feel worthless and alone. I’m sorry for all the times I let my anger get the best of me and nearly killed you. More than anything I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop my own brother from ending your life.” He gasped for air in between silent sobs before continuing. “I never understood why Lilith sacrificed everything she had in the Celestial Realm just to spend time with a human, but I realized a while back… that somewhere along the way I fell in love with you, and suddenly it all made sense. Every joke you made with Mammon, every late night spent in Leviathan’s room, every living room fashion show you sat through with Asmodeus, every afternoon in the garden spent with Satan and every meal you made just for Beelzebub… I witnessed it all and I realized…you care for them just as much as I do… and they all worship the ground you walk on. I wanted to be a part of that.”

You felt your rage begin to melt away, the fire burning deep inside faded to a small ember and your stomach flipped as you listened to the prideful demon pour out his true feelings.

“So many times, I wanted to tell you how I felt, to apologize for how I behaved before, to have a chance at forming the bond that would allow me to be happy just like my brothers. But each time I tried, my pride would prevent me from speaking my true intent and instead some condescending remark was made. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect you from him, the flashbacks of watching you fade away in Mammon’s arms keeps me up most nights, I failed both of you that day. And I’m sorry.”

His apology seemed sincere enough, but you still couldn’t shake this new feeling you had. You got more than you had wanted out of this, a pact, an apology, and a new sense of confidence it seemed. You felt bad watching Lucifer practically beg for forgiveness like this, and yet, seeing him sit there like that? A complete mess, eyes red with tears still gently rolling down his face, he looked like easy prey just waiting to be caught. It was still feeding the beast inside you.

“Can you ever forgive me?” The question was soft and weak. This was possibly the most vulnerable you’d ever seen the great Avatar of pride before. You were starting to enjoy it.

“Oh Lucifer,” a gentle smile appeared on your lips. “All I ever wanted was a sincere apology and for you to take responsibility.”

You bent down slightly before continuing.

“Of course I can forgive you, as long as you understand our dynamic now.” You wiped the newest tears off his cheeks with your hand and gently caressed his face, you felt him lean into your touch slightly. “I care deeply about my pacts and the demons I formed them with, I want nothing but for us to get along and have that special bond.”

Lucifer’s eyes softened and you could see his body begin to relax.

“However,” the same devious smile from previous encounters reappeared on your face as your firmly held his with the hand that had just wiped his tears. You planted one foot firmly on the seat of his chair right between his thighs and leaned in closely, your nose lightly brushing against his as you spoke. “If you think you control me, you don’t know what you’re in for.”

Your voice was practically a whisper now but felt more powerful than when you had been yelling earlier. Lucifer’s eyes couldn’t decide whether to stay locked on yours or watch as your lips hovered just out of reach of his. You had officially reduced him to the same pathetic puddle Belphie was during his little chat, but somehow this time it felt a lot more enjoyable.

“Understood?” You tilted his chin up just as he had done to you earlier.

“Yes, Master.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the response.

“How obedient, must come with the pride.” You let go of his face and stepped away from him. You glanced at the time on your phone and then one more time at the new ring that adorned your finger. Realizing how late it was and how early you had to be up to finally return home, you headed toward the office door. “You should head to bed soon. We have a big day tomorrow.”

You heard shuffling behind you and a few very clumsy footsteps before turning to look over your shoulder. Lucifer had scrambled to his feet half drunk on Demonus and the other half on you, you assumed he wanted to follow after you but either his legs stopped working or he was sober enough to stop himself because he only made it as far as the chair you had been sitting in.

“You cou— you could just stay here tonight…with me.” He managed to get out as his face flushed red again.

“I could,” you smiled “but I won’t.” You watched his face drop as you unlocked the door and stepped out. Before closing it you turned back one more time. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

**********

The next morning, you stood in the student council room at RAD along with the brothers and other exchange students one last time, back where it all began. As the others talked excitedly and goodbyes were said to Simeon, Luke and Solomon, you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened, both good and bad. You had been tossed into this world against your will, tasked with representing the entire human race, placed in a home with seven unruly brothers, faced death more times than you cared to ever remember, got caught up in weird family drama, and stood toe to toe with raging demons one too many times.

It wasn’t all bad though.

You made some new friends, you experienced things you never knew existed, you tried amazing food from both the Devildom and Celestial Realm, you managed to help the brothers patch things up, you pulled off making pacts with seven Demon Lords in just one years’ time (Solomon would be furious when he found out) and got the apologies you rightfully deserved from each of your pact members. All in all it wasn’t too terrible and the more you thought about going home the more you realized you would miss seeing these dorks every day, you wouldn’t miss the arguing…but you’d miss the bad jokes, the movie nights, the random adventures and most of all you’d miss watching them embarrass each other in front of you.

The others eventually departed and now it was your turn. You were trying to think of the easiest way to say bye without causing tears and dramatics when you felt a soft tug on your arm. Belphie stood a few inches away from your back, trying to get your attention the same way he had the last few months, when you turned he blushed slightly and dropped his gaze to his feet as usual.

“I’m sorry for fucking things up for so long. I really enjoyed the time we had together, I just wish it could last a little longer.” He lifted his gaze to look at you. “Are we okay?”

“Yes darling,” you smiled. You had put his ass through the wringer ever since the fallout yet with each passing day he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, the least you could do was forgive him before leaving. “I think we’ll be just fine. Listen to your brothers while I’m gone though, if I find out you’ve been nothing but a brat,” you pulled him in for a brief hug and whispered in his ear. “there will be consequences.”

You released him from the hug and noticed the deep red on his face, you’d miss how easy it was to tease him. Leaving Belphie to drown in his thoughts you turned to his twin and started to speak.

“Beelz—” Only to be cut off by a hug that knocked all the air out of your lungs but then melted into a firm but gentle one. “Good to know you learned some self-restraint.” You managed to squeeze out in one breath.

“Thank you,” the sixth born spoke into the top of your head, his arms trapping you against his chest. “For helping Belphie, for putting up with us, and for making us a family again.” You started to respond but felt a sudden wet spot on your shoulder, managing to look up you found the gentle giant staring at you with tear filled eyes.

“Oh Beel,”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I said I wouldn’t cry and look what you made me do Beel!!” The unmistakable sound of Asmo throwing a tantrum and stomping his boot on the ground made you laugh; they truly were predictable.

You freed yourself from Beelzebub only to be engulfed by Asmo who begged for you not to leave him here with his brothers.

“Who’s going to tell me how beautiful I am? Who’s going to help me do my nails? Who am I supposed to gossip with??” Asmo asked frantically.

“Well, I’m sure Solomon has an easier way of getting back here.” You offered.

“He doesn’t count!” Asmo sobbed before Beel peeled him off you. You adjusted yourself and moved away before getting sucked back in by Asmo’s grasp. Satan looked at you trying to contain his laughter.

“Just so you know, I won’t cry.”

“And I thank you for that.” You sighed.

“I will miss you though.” You hugged the fourth born and then he continued. “Thank you for teaching me how to feel things other than anger and for helping me find better ways to control it.”

“Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You teased.

“No promises.” He replied.

You turned to Levi who looked like he was waiting in line to meet Ruri-chan herself.

“Alright my otaku friend, I know this is far too much of a normie thing so I’ll keep it—” Cut off again by the world’s fastest and most unexpected public hug you blinked trying to figure out what just happened. “Did you just hug me in front of other people?”

“You’ll probably forget about all our games we have saved once you get home but I’ll keep them in case we get to play again…thanks for being my friend this year.” The third born turned bright red as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You knew this whole thing was probably a lot for him and were incredibly proud of how far he had come since day one, he was no longer the awkward little shut-in you first met. Now he was your awkward little friend.

“ANYWAY!” Mammon shoved his brother out of the way before standing next to you and leaning on your shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s probably suuuper boring back home ‘cause I’m not there so why dontcha just summon me on the daily and you can be entertained by the great Mammon?”

This time you gave the unsuspected hug.

“Thank you Mammon,” you squeezed your arms around him one last time. “For always being there for me…and protecting me until the very end.”

“’Course,” his voice was soft and you knew he was fighting tears. “Wouldn’t trade it for all the Grimm in the Devildom.”

You pushed out of the hug and grabbed his face with both your hands and smiled a big goofy grin.

“And thanks for being my first man!” you teased.

“Ack, why ya gotta go and say somethin cheesy like that?? Geez, like I care!”

You would definitely miss embarrassing him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you backed away and watched him blush while muttering to himself. One goodbye left and you’d be gone.

Once again you stood before Lucifer, the same old song and dance you had done for twelve months, but this time the dynamic was switched. You stood tall with a confident smile on your face while Lucifer seemed a little more nervous than usual, he of course would never let his brothers see that which is why he stood with his back to them.

“I’ll never forget this year I’ve spent with you.” Lucifer spoke with his usual matter-of-fact tone but you could sense sadness in his voice. You knew if the goodbye dragged on too long he would break just like he had last night, so you tried to keep it short, to spare his ego.

“Watch over your brothers,” you took a few steps closer and lowered your voice so your conversation became more private. “Keep them out of trouble but don’t work yourself to death in the process. Remember to relax every now and then.”

“I’m only truly able to relax when you’re around.” Lucifer had a pleading look in his eyes, one that was screaming for you not to leave. If you didn’t go soon you might just give in and stay a little longer. After all, things just got interesting and the cards seemed to finally be fully in your favor.

“Be good while I’m away.” Your final command to him.

“Of course, Master,” the first born lifted your hand and gently kissed the ring he had placed on you last night. “Anything for you.”

“Hey, Lucifer! What’s the big idea whisperin’ over there?? And why the hell are ya holdin their hand! No one said anything about that!” Mammon shouted from behind, breaking the trance Lucifer seemed to be in and drawing out the normal heavy sigh and eye roll.

“It’s time.” Diavolo interjected before an argument could break out.

You grabbed the few belongings you had gathered during your stay and walked toward the portal Barbatos had opened, a few more steps and you’d finally be back home. You had officially survived your stay in the Devildom.

“Before you go,” Diavolo spoke again. “I’d like to know, is there anything in particular you learned during your stay?”

You turned back around to face the prince along with the brothers. Had you learned anything? Honestly you learned a lot, about the three realms, about magic, and above all about yourself. It was hard to pick one singular thing and even harder to find a way to condense it all.

“I guess if I had to choose,” you paused for a moment to think. While doing so you made eye contact with the spoiled brat who had caused the last five months of tension and ultimately unlocked some bizarre power and feeling inside you that you still didn’t quite understand. “I learned that what doesn’t kill me, just makes me vicious.”

You watched as the youngest brother ducked his head and began to fidget with his sleeves, you caught the pink in his cheeks as you turned back around and headed through the portal leading to home. The brothers watched your every move, hoping that at the last minute you would turn around and run straight back to them, but you didn’t. Just as you entered the bright light and your silhouette started to fade, Leviathan caught sight of a bright blue symbol shining against the glow of the portal, one that definitely wasn’t there before.

“Wha—” the third born recognized the symbol immediately but couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way you had pulled that off, and if you did then that made you the most badass person ever, like insanely badass, more than any anime protagonist he’d ever heard of. He frantically looked around at his brothers who seemed clueless to the new symbol. “IS NOBODY ELSE SEEING THAT??”

“Ow, Levi don’t shout in my ear like that, ugh.” Asmo scoffed while blinking tears from his eyes as to not ruin his mascara.

“NO NO! You guys totally see that right?!? That’s Lucifer’s pact mark on—" Levi turned and pointed back at the now gone portal. “them…”

“WHA— DID YA GET A PICTURE OF IT?!” Mammon screeched while grabbing his brothers shoulders.

“N-no?”

“Levithatwasaoneinamillionshotwhaddyameanyoudidnttakeapicture??” Mammon sobbed while shaking his younger brother like a rag doll.

“Mammon stop! You might snap him in half.” Beelzebub said as he picked the second born up and threw him over his shoulder before heading toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Honestly Leviathan,” the third born jumped, not expecting Lucifer to be directly behind him. “you might want to take a break from all the video games, I think it’s ruining your eyes.” Levi smiled sheepishly and watched his brother turn to leave the council room. “We’re done here.”

The brothers said goodbye to Diavolo and Barbatos before departing, Belphegor teasing Mammon as Beelzebub carried him out of the room, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Satan speaking in hushed tones while gossiping about you potentially having a pact with the demon of pride himself, and Lucifer leading them out with his head held high and a smug grin on his face. He knew damn well you had flashed his mark on purpose, just to stir his brothers up.

“Well, I suppose that brings the first year of our exchange program to an end Barbatos! I have to say, I think it was a rousing success!” Diavolo grinned, feeling overly proud himself.

“Of course young Master, however,” Barbatos said. “Did you happen to notice our human exchange student seemed a little less…”

“Human?” Diavolo finished his question. His grin disappeared and a look of concern took its place. “Yes, I did notice that. It’s very troublesome but I’m unsure if Lucifer and his brothers are aware of it…Barbatos, could you—”

“I’m already on it sir,” Barbatos smiled calmly and opened a new portal.

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

Tag list: @hero-the-diamond @purplerosewrites @alydra @lotusyasumi @bagofwetmice @itsmeninerz @elssecondaccount @a-toxic-person @takimarasukido @umbra-davina @littleagxs tumblr hates me and I couldn’t tag some people >:( also @delphi-dreamin just because I feel responsible to tag you in all my Lucifer pieces💖

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

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You take in San’s words, blinking aggressively. You pull your face away from his, your questions clear from your expression.

San squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at you for too long. “I can’t explain it now. Or, well, I’ll explain it all soon, but we need to leave.”

“Leave? Like, the farm?” You question, your words coming faster than you can control them. “What? San? Did something happen?” 

He opens his eyes, then, staring into yours. The pain is evident in his face, his internal struggle still battling. 

“After today, I can’t predict what Hongjoong will do to get you to break.” San admits, tears welling in his eyes. “He’s going to hurt you, and if he can’t, he’ll kill you.” 

“What happened to you, San?” You ask, more concerned by his disheveled appearance than by the revelation of the thoughts that you’ve had hundreds of times. 

He shakes his head. “It’s not important, I promise. I’m fine.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine, San, just shaken up, I guess. Do you know how Hongjoong did that?” 

His hands squeeze your forearms tighter, gripping you like he’s going to lose you. “I have no idea. But if he’s willing to go this far, I… fuck, I can’t believe it. I have to get you away from this.” 

You can only gape at him. You can’t believe that San is saying these things to you. San had always been so loyal to Hongjoong, even leading up to the very moments before the ceremony. What could possibly have made him flip his entire script so quickly? 

It’s almost touching to realize how much San must care for you. If he’s willing to abandon this for you… Fuck. 

“San, when can we go?” You try to not sound so eager, but the prospect of getting away is so sweet. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead before replying. “I have to think on it, but I swear that it will be soon. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to figure it out.” 

You want to ask what it is that he’s figured out or what made him realize, but that sits in the backseat compared to the thought that suddenly rises to the forefront of your mind. “What about Haseul? And Mingi?” 

San freezes, still searching your face. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but no words come out. 

“San?” 

“I,” he pauses, biting his lip, “I’ll have to think about it more. We might have to come back for them.” 

You don’t like that idea, but you had thought it yourself a few times before. It would be a lot easier to get yourself out and come back with people that could actually stand a chance against this group rather than try and sneak out with someone else, risking all of your lives in the process. 

“Just trust me, yeah?” He smiles, letting go of your arms to readjust his shirt. 

You nod, throwing the blanket off of your legs. This is as good of a time as any to get out of the infirmary. Whatever had been going on with San, they must not care too much if you’re back with him considering the fact that he’s here now. 

Once San is reassembled, he offers you his hand again, helping you stand as you swing your legs off the bed. The two of you leave the room, passing by Nayeon as you walk down the hallway. She waves, smiling while you go. 

San drops your hand once you’re outside, but keeps one on the small of your back. He could reasonably pass that off as just helping you stay upright. 

By now, it’s mid-morning, almost 11. The sun is high and the fields— 

For the first time since you had arrived at the farm, you saw the farm equipment actually being put to use. A huge combine harvester moves through the field, still relatively close to the barn. You’re awestruck to actually see work being done, amazed that the time has passed so quickly. 

You halt in your tracks, lifting a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun so that you can watch the machine move. It doesn’t move particularly fast, but, by God, is it freaky looking. You wouldn’t want that thing coming to run you down, that’s for sure.

Which only reminds you of the time that you had tried to escape. And then resorted to hiding in the corn. 

When all of the corn is harvested, how will this place look? Barren. Cold. You don’t want to picture it; all that land with nowhere to hide. Will you even have to see it? Maybe you’ll be gone by then. 

A waving figure catches your eye off in the distance. You’re easily able to identify Yeosang once you look fully at him, and you raise your hand back in greeting, having to squint your eyes against the sun. 

San doesn’t wave back, instead ushering you to turn back toward the compound and keep moving. 

“Are we in a rush?” You ask, allowing him to steer you toward the door. 

San glances around, “I wouldn’t say that. But I’d feel better if we were alone in our apartment.” 

Well, okay, you guess. You would think that it would be a bit suspicious if you both suddenly started acting differently, but it’ll probably be okay for right now. At least until you can talk to San about everything. 

You head inside, trying to walk to the stairs. But you’re stopped before either of you can make the first step, a voice calling your name behind you.

It’s Wooyoung, you realize, before you even turn around to face him. 

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” 

You glare across the foyer at him, wondering what kind of nerve this kid must have to be talking to you like you’re best friends again. 

He has a point, though. You turn your attention to your stomach, but you’re not surprised that the general sense of nausea and unease still lingers there; nothing like hunger. “I’m not hungry.” 

You know better than to directly accuse him of drugging you again. You really don’t know if he did… it’s possible that he didn’t. But, really, looking back on it… Ugh, you’ll just ask San later. He had already told you what he thought, but… you don’t know. Just, whatever. 

Wooyoung squints, a flat expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright after everything? Not just anyone can say they stood down a Guardian.” 

That’s really rich, coming from Wooyoung, you have to admit. The guy that basically told you that you need to accept your role in this place because he isn’t happy with his, either. Maybe he’s trying to sympathize with you, as a fellow skeptic. You won’t take the “compliment” at face value, but you still don’t appreciate the remark. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you shrug, hoping to end the conversation there. 

He doesn’t look convinced. “I’ll have someone run some food up for you guys.” 

San thanks him for you, clearly ending the conversation there. He ushers the both of you up the stairs and to your apartment, swiftly locking the door behind you once you’re inside. 

You look around your apartment, almost expecting something to have changed, but nothing has. Everything is just how you left it this morning, not a single thing out of order. 

“Are we talking about this now, then?” You question, looking to San as he paces in front of the couch. He doesn’t stop pacing, but he does gesture for you to sit down, “you’re really worrying me, San.” 

He halts in place then, frowning, but not sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets his sentence hang in the air, “I can’t believe… I can’t believe it.” 

“What happened to you while I was out?” You want to reach out and grab his hand, but you can’t, he’s moving too much. 

San starts pacing again, “well, first of all, sorry for disappearing on your right before the ceremony.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Seonghwa appeared out of nowhere and pulled me aside to talk about literally nothing and then, by the time I realized what was happening, the ceremony had started and I couldn’t have helped you.” 

He freezes, as if recalling the memory, “and then the ceremony happened. And, and that thing appeared. I hope to God that Hongjoong or Seonghwa or someone was able to explain that to you, because I can’t. I don’t know what that was, I’ve never seen anything like it or heard of Hongjoong—” he stops abruptly. “I mean that I don’t know how that happened. And I saw it grab you and I seriously, I thought that it was now, that, that Hongjoong had enough of you and— I thought you were going to die.” 

It’s only now that his voice falters, breaking with his last sentence. You’re no stranger to San’s emotions, but his tears always have an effect on you. To his credit, he does a good job of keeping it mostly together as he keeps speaking. 

“But then it was over, and you were on the ground, and I tried to stand up to go to you, but Seonghwa held me down, and I couldn’t do anything. I felt so helpless watching Hongjoong pick you up, watching Mingi run to his side to take you off of his hands and carry you out. I tried to get up again, but Seonghwa wouldn’t let me go. I almost fucking hit him.” He shakes at the memory, his voice thick with both anger and his tears. “We stayed there for a long time. We just waited until Hongjoong came back, and he sure fucking came back. He was incensed. Didn’t even say why. Even Seonghwa looked nervous as he screamed and bitched and threw shit around.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“You will not take her from me!” Hongjoong screams, at neither man in particular. “I don’t care which one of you it is; I forbade it for a reason and I will be fucking respected!” 

Seonghwa doesn’t move an inch at San’s side. San doesn’t say anything, either.

Hongjoong’s rage permeates the chapel. “Why isn’t she scared? Why isn’t she terrified, whimpering and begging for her life at my feet?” He starts pacing up and down the aisle, kicking copies of The Answer that he had thrown to the ground. “Doesn’t she realize that I am the only thing standing between her and a cold grave?” He whirls to face the other two men. “Answer me!”

“I think she is scared of you,” San mutters, “but she’s good at hiding it in front of you.” 

Hongjoong’s face contorts into a smile, and San knows that he’s fucked up. “Is that it? How do you know, San? Do you hold her at night while she cries in your arms at my cruelty?” 

San only blinks, unable to respond in a way that would please his leader. 

“She doesn’t know about Haseul yet. What is she going to think when she finds out that her boyfriend let her die?” 

“Hongjoong—,” Seonghwa cuts in, “She can’t know about Haseul, even if you want to scare her. It’s invaluable for us to be able to hold this ove—”

“You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong yells, “I am in charge here! I am! If I want her to know about Haseul, she will know about Haseul.” 

“Of course you are, Hongjoong, you don’t need to be so angry.” Seonghwa tries to console Hongjoong, to absolutely no avail. 

Hongjoong puts his palms together, resting his index fingers on his forehead as he thinks. “I cannot take this disrespect much longer.” 

The chapel remains in tense silence, neither San nor Seonghwa wanting to be the first to say something.

Apparently that’s not what Hongjoong wanted, either. “Seonghwa,” he gets the man’s attention, “hold San steady for me, would you?”

San knows what’s coming. Hongjoong’s had it out for him for ages, and this is finally it. He’s outlived his purpose, his presence is only backfiring, it’s time for him to go. He knew that it was coming, he should’ve known that it would be now. His death would utterly destroy (Y/n), there would be nothing for her to do except accept her fate. 

Seonghwa does as Hongjoong instructs, standing behind him to hold his arms in place. San doesn’t struggle. He has to be strong. Go bravely. That’s what he wants. 

But Hongjoong surprises him. He takes a step toward him, smoothing his own ceremonial shirt before grabbing the hem of San’s and pulling it out of his pants. 

Oh… San really hadn’t been expecting tha—

But then Hongjoong hits him. Just once. 

“We’ll see how she feels when you’re not so pretty.” Hongjoong spits, literally, onto the floor of the chapel. 

San can hardly hear him through the pain rippling over his jaw, but the message is clear enough. He doesn’t need a mirror to taste the blood, or feel it pouring down his chin. Seonghwa lets go of his arms and it takes everything in him to not double over. Instead, he looks up at Hongjoong, unintimidated. 

Hongjoong stretches his hand. “She asked for you, Seonghwa. Better go comfort her.” He glares up at him. “But not too well.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, San leaves the… sensitive details out as he recounts Hongjoong’s tantrum for you. Not a single word of Haseul is spoken to you, but the rest is mostly accurate. 

You sit in horror as San recounts these details to you, unsure how to even react. You’ve always known that Hongjoong is capable of violence, and Seonghwa, too, but to hear of them acting such violence onto San, of all people… it’s almost unthinkable. At some point in the not too distant past, Hongjoong had trusted San to watch over you at all times of the day, and now? His own paranoia has driven him to violence? 

Your thoughts wander to Seonghwa against your own better judgment. Seonghwa is his own person, he’s taking care of himself. He doesn’t want you meddling in his relationships, and he has made this more than abundantly clear. 

But how does Hongjoong treat him? It can’t be kind. You’ve seen the slights between them, seen Hongjoong deny Seonghwa of even the simplest pleasure. Behind closed doors, what do they talk about? How does Hongjoong act around him? 

Though you’re loath to admit it, you have to worry for him. If Hongjoong is violent with you, the person he considers to be one of the most important figures in his religion… that doesn’t bode well for Seonghwa. 

“San,” you bring your thoughts back to the present moment, “I’m so sorry that you went through that for me.” 

He doesn’t stop pacing, almost ignoring your sentiment all together. “Hongjoong is crazy.” 

“I’ve known that for a while now.” 

San smiles. Smiles. “I don’t think you understand the extent of it.”

You find that hard to believe, but there probably are things that San knows about Hongjoong that you don’t.

“But that’s not important for right now. I just need you to keep your distance from him as much as possible; I’ll ask Seonghwa for his help—”

“Seonghwa?” You’re astounded. “You’re going to ask Seonghwa to help us escape?” 

San shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, not looking at you. “No, but he’ll keep you away from Hongjoong. That’s basically his number one priority, anyways.” 

It makes sense. If Hongjoong is as volatile as he was with Seonghwa and San earlier, he’s a danger to be around. Even more so than usual. But getting Seonghwa’s help… “Won’t it be obvious what we’re trying to do?”

“You already avoid Hongjoong,” San says. “I don’t think it will be a drastic enough change to draw attention, as long as you’re not refusing to see Seonghwa.” 

The way with which San says this last sentence… is different. He’s not stuttering anymore, you realize. He hasn’t been for a while, now. When San is upset, his stutter is more pronounced than anything else, its absence is suddenly so jarring that you have to wonder why you didn’t realize when it stopped. 

There’s no emotion in his voice anymore. No personality, no San. 

You stare up at him, watching him walk back and forth in front of you. He’s not upset, not anymore, at least. What is this? 

“San.” You try to get his attention. “Are you alright?” 

He finally stops walking, if just for a second, to give you a good look at his face. “I’m fine,” he states. His eyes aren’t red, his breathing is perfectly even, his expression flat. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’re scaring me,” you say. “What’s going on?”

San resumes his pacing. “You should be scared, I should be scared, I should’ve been this whole time; But I’ve been so stupid and now isn’t the time for me to be some sniveling boy.”

You can’t respond to that. 

“I think I know when we can try to get out. I’m not going to fail you this time, (Y/n), I swear.”  

“San, wait, hold on,” you start, shaking your head, “what about your laptop? The phones? Can’t you just call the cops?” 

San smiles tightly, “I considered it, but there would be issues. Hongjoong has a plan, and things would not end well if law enforcement got involved and Hongjoong had more than five seconds to think before he was arrested or killed.” 

“So you’re seriously proposing that we run away, leaving everyone else here… forever… including the children?” 

“Would you rather be alive and here or dead and buried?” San blinks. “That’s what this comes down to for the rest of the group. We can find a way to get Mingi and Haseul, but it’s not feasible to save everyone knowing that Hongjoong has a plan for this exact situation.” 

Your stomach rolls over itself as he explains this. How can you just leave? How could you leave everyone behind and forget about them? How could San even suggest something so horrible?

The thought of freedom is enticing, but the weight that would remain on your conscience… It makes you sick just thinking about it now. 

Whatever. Fuck San. You’ll remedy the situation yourself once you’re out. There’s not a chance in hell you’d leave all of these innocent people to rot on this farm. 

San’s apathy is so jarring. Maybe that’s what waking up after years of brainwashing does to a person.

You don’t want to judge him when he’s so clearly doing this for you. To protect you. You can hardly complain that he’s resolved in this situation. 

… Yeah, no, it still rubs you the wrong way.

But you’ll shrug it off for now. “When can we go?” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

San explains the general idea to you, which he’ll refine in the coming weeks. 

With the beginning of the harvest starting, that puts the farm about one month out from the conclusion. Apparently, they don’t actually own that much acreage, just enough to surround the commune itself, so harvest doesn’t take very long. Throughout the month, there are various ceremonies that all culminate into one, final, grand ceremony at the end of the harvest. After this ceremony, there’s a party. 

It was about here when you realized where this was going.

The party is huge, apparently. Like, all-out, rager huge. Everyone gets drunk (apparently this is part of the ceremony) and everything gets a bit wild and confusing. San’s proposal is that the two of you make a break for it when everyone is (a) extremely inebriated and (b) distracted by the celebrations. 

It’s kind of cliche, but you have to imagine that it’ll work, especially if this party is as crazy as San explained. 

If it doesn’t work… the thought puts a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re not going to start pondering what you’ll do if you get caught for a second time. 

Really, this plan should work. San has access to the vehicles. With a car, you can be fifty miles away before anyone even realizes that you’re gone, so long as Hongjoong lets you out of his sight for even just a few minutes. 

With all of the noise and distractions, no one will hear the car starting. No one will hear you guys peeling out, the terrible crunch of the gravel under the wheels that you had heard what felt like so long ago. 

You think back to the night in the corn field. What a shitshow. You had to give it to yourself, you were very brave. And you got quite far for the amount of preparation that you had done. But that night… 

Remains one that you want to forget. But you’ll never forget the fear coursing through your veins, the feeling of your heart in your chest, your ears twitching with every sound that you heard. When Seonghwa was chasing you, when Hongjoong reduced you to a puddle at his feet. 

It was like being hunted for sport. 

You have to hold out hope that the car will make all of the difference here, which you’re sure that it can. Where you’re going to go… you aren’t sure. 

Surely, you know that you have to get law enforcement involved, but what San said is weighing on your mind… Maybe, if you fully explained the situation, you could get some sort of covert mission operating… But that would probably have its pitfalls, too. It’s hard to know what’s right, but you trust that you’ll figure it out once you’ve saved yourself. 

There’s also the option that the police will entirely write you off and think you’re just some crazy lady. Especially if San… 

No, wait, pause. San would tell the truth, right? Like, he would be your witness? He wouldn’t actually just let this keep happening once he’s out… 

God, the fact that you even have to weigh this option is exhausting. Why can’t you just trust him? You’ve had no problem with it before, so why should it be an issue now? Has San ever done anything to betray your trust? Minus him being a high-ranking cult official, but, like, that’s just part of the deal. You have to trust him, especially now.  If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

Your mind wanders to your apartment, your old college dorm room, your childhood bedroom. How dreamy would it be to be anywhere but here? You miss your big bed and your pantry full of snacks you actually like and your bookshelves stacked with your books. You miss sleeping alone, but hearing your neighbors through your thin walls; when you didn’t have a sanctioned bed time that everyone obeyed. 

On your nightstand at home, you have a framed picture of your friends. You try to picture their faces, all of them. Changbin, Mingi, Soojin, Haseul, Juyeon, and Jungeun. And, of course, your own face. When’s the last time you looked in the mirror? You think of your features, your hair, the color of your eyes and your smile. 

Horrifyingly, you can only picture Hongjoong’s smile. 

You stop trying to picture yourself.

Mingi comes to the forefront of your mind. Mingi. Do all roads lead back to Mingi? It feels like it. San had said that Mingi had run to you when you fainted, that he’d taken you from Hongjoong and carried you to the infirmary. You try to picture it, the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around you again. Had he held you close, like a friend, or sterile, far away from his own body, the act of an EMT? Had he let your head hang upside down, over his arm, or did he support your neck like you would a baby? 

You don’t know what feels right. You only know that Mingi had held you and Mingi had cared. 

Maybe he threw you over his shoulder like he used to do when you refused to follow him somewhere. Probably unlikely. But you smile as you think about it, anyways, how he always used his height to his advantage and how he would sling you around like you weighed nothing. 

How many times did he have to carry you to the library? How many times did he carry you out of the library? What does carrying someone mean? When is it an act of love and when is it an act of control?

Haseul had been carried. Where is she, now? In a little room? Is Wooyoung talking to her, keeping her company? Has Mingi been a good companion to her? Is she being subjugated to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, yet? Are you going to have to attend her own Choosing ceremony, soon? 

Hongjoong wouldn’t trust you to just silently watch her ceremony, you know that well enough. It’ll probably just happen and you’ll be told after the fact. When its too late to warn her. The next time you see her, she’ll probably be in the infirmary, recovering from a fucking stab wound. 

Your own scar tingles. Would Hongjoong just kill her? He had made it clear that he decides who lives and who dies. He could just lethally aim the knife. And wouldn’t that be the ultimate punishment? Not knowing she’s dead until being told after the fact? Not being able to see her one last time? 

San wouldn’t let that happen. He would warn you, he would try to help her again, you’re sure of it. 

So you just have to focus on yourself, for now. Keep your head down, wait it out, and trust San. That’s really all that you can do. You can’t help Haseul while you’re stuck here, just like you can’t help Mingi, either. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You had half expected Hongjoong to give you a break for a few days, considering your encounter with… whatever that thing was, but that illusion is quickly destroyed when Seonghwa comes knocking on your door at the usual time the next day. 

San answers, quickly lowering his voice in what sounds like an attempt to plead with Seonghwa to leave you alone for the day. You sneak up behind San, making eye contact with Seonghwa as your appearance calls his attention. 

“What do you think, princess?” He sounds as pissed as he looks. You can imagine that he wants to be here just as much as you want him here.

Resting a hand on San’s shoulder, you tell him that you’re fine to go. Afterall, how else are you supposed to keep up appearances? And you need to learn more about what this month has in store for you.

San steps aside as Seonghwa offers you his hand, which you take. Strange, though, that he doesn’t take your arm as he usually would. Is this his way of…

Your last conversation echoes in your head. Seonghwa seemed genuinely concerned. And quite rattled. And he was honest with you, as much as you could expect him to be. Maybe he’s feeling bad. Or sentimental. Or protective. 

… Pft, who are you kidding? He probably didn’t even think twice about taking your hand instead of your arm.

Hand-in-hand, you walk silently to Hongjoong’s apartment.

Fuck. You can only hope that he’s not there. You could probably play off your curiosity about the month as your worry about what’s going to happen to you, but something tells you that Hongjoong is going to be looking for reasons to be cruel. Or you’re going to be in for some intense attempts at gaslighting you into believing… 

You have to resist a shudder at the memory. With enough effort, you probably could believe that that shit was real. Didn’t you have to beg Seonghwa to tell you that it wasn’t? You still don’t understand what the hell that even was or how it could’ve been faked, but you really can’t bring yourself to think of it. 

Seonghwa drops your hand to open the door, holding it open behind him to allow you to enter as well. 

Hesitantly, you glance around the apartment. 

“He’s not here,” Seonghwa says. “But he wants you here when he comes back.” 

The door shuts, and you sit at your usual spot on the couch. Seonghwa flops into his chair, facing you. 

“When will he be back?” 

He just shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. The image takes you back to a certain other night the two of you have been alone, and you have to clench your jaw to drive away the thoughts, looking anywhere else but at his body. 

“I suppose you have more questions.” Seonghwa doesn't ask you this, but tells you. 

Yeah, you have a lot of questions. The primary ones you either can't ask Seonghwa or you've asked him already, to no avail. 

You look at your nail beds, trying to be nonchalant. “Are you still jealous of San?” 

Why that's the question you decide to ask, you have no idea. 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Really?” He asks. “That's where we're going?” 

Shrugging, you try your best to resist looking at him. “I just thought it was strange that Hongjoong didn't want me to see him yesterday. I can't help but imagine that you must still be feeding him lies,” you say. “He also told me that it was you that had to physically hold him back when I fell.” Not to mention the other holding he did. 

Though you don't look at him, you can imagine his displeasure spreading across his expression. “I don't know why you insist that there's nothing between you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, minus the fact that your misadventures could only cause harm to San.” 

“Exactly,” your eyes flit up to his face, “I'd never put him in danger.” 

“Your loyalty to a man you hardly know is admirable,” Seonghwa says through a sneer. 

“I know San better than I know you.” 

You could swear his eye twitches. “Sure you do.” 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You blink. “I have no reason to not trust San, and every reason to not trust you.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, smiling. “I think you're forgetting your situation, Princess. San is your punishment, and you're his.” He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I never said you had to trust me. I think you do, anyways.”

You stay silent, knowing that he's at least partially correct. You probably do trust Seonghwa, at least more than a lot of the people here. 

“Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked for me to calm you yesterday.” 

“I asked for San, first.”

“And what would he have told you?” Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Not what you wanted to hear. He wouldn't have been able to assure you of anything. I did.” 

Again, you know he's right. San hadn't been able to do much to calm your nerves, despite tell you his plan for your escape. 

You lock eyes with him, planning to defend San, but your gaze betrays you. Seonghwa leans back in the chair, knowing he's got you.

“Who was in the costume?” You ask instead. 

Seonghwa deigns to look confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.” 

The frustration of the prior day comes back at full force. Why can't just one other person acknowledge the fucking insanity of this place? Why can't Seonghwa just say what he means? Why is he so insistent on agreeing with Hongjoong, no matter the cost?

“Do you ever get tired of being Hongjoong's lapdog?” 

“Lapdog?” He smiles. “Come here.”

You swallow as he gestures for you to stand in front of him, recognizing the gesture from weeks prior. “No.”

Seonghwa stands instead, stepping around the coffee table to be able to stand before you. Forced into looking up at him, you hate this upper hand he's suddenly gained through your refusal. 

He bends, using a hand to grip the sofa behind your shoulder. Face to face, he mockingly pouts. “That's what you think of me?” 

You keep your mouth shut, hoping your gaze is burning through him.

“You said it yourself,” he leans closer to you, “you hardly know me.” 

With his face so close to your own, you hardly even feel like you can breathe, like it would be encroaching on his space. You glance between his eyes, trying your damnedest to not look anywhere else. If you looked at his lips… his pretty, plump lips… 

Fortunately, or, perhaps unfortunately, the doorknob starts rattling a few feet away from the both of you, and Seonghwa quickly leans out of the compromising position. Slipping a hand in his pocket, he stares down at you once more. “This isn’t over.” 

The door opens, but neither of you turn to greet who you know will be in the doorway. You’d have to imagine it’s quite a sight to see, the both of your staring daggers at each other, unwilling to be the first to look away. 

Hongjoong isn’t pleased by your ignorance. He slams the door behind him as he enters his apartment, and Seonghwa finally relieves you of his look. 

Your eyes only move to Hongjoong when he comes to stand next to Seonghwa, his hand resting on his bicep.

“Well, well, well,” he says, “having a lively conversation? Without me?” 

Hongjoong gently turns Seonghwa so that he’s angled to sit on the couch, pushing him down until he’s sitting right next to you. Your thighs brush. Hongjoong moves back to sit on the chair Seonghwa vacated, settling himself in before speaking again. 

“Have you had time to reflect on what happened yesterday?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head. He’s wearing his glasses, the overhead light reflecting off of them, obscuring his irises. “If I seemed frustrated with you, I must apologize. You have to understand that it was a very scary experience, even for myself. And I forgive you for the way that you reacted, as well.”

You squint at Hongjoong. As if you had anything to be sorry for. He’s the one that got himself all mad for no reason. He should be apologizing to San. 

But you can only imagine how this conversation will go if you continue to argue with him about the validity of the… thing. And San requested you to keep a low profile. He probably wouldn’t want you bringing up his mistreatment. So you nod a couple times, hoping that he doesn’t want you to vocalize an apology. 

“You must have been in shock,” Hongjoong continues. “Which would explain your inability to accept what had happened.” 

Nodding again, you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Does he want you to start asking questions? Does he seriously, genuinely believe that you’ve lost it, now? He can’t.

So, what? He just wants you to act like you have? He must know that it would just be a ruse, so why does he want you to go along with it so badly?

Seonghwa certainly knows that you’re not fooled, and you can expect that he told Hongjoong this after you spoke to him yesterday. Who is this act for, exactly? 

“As important as you are, it makes sense that you were targeted. The Guardians, in fact, are responsible for the loss of your predecessor.” 

Okay, so, that’s a lie. Hongjoong told you as much himself. He’s really going to go back on his word, gaslight you into forgetting what he already said? He might be able to get you to forget what he told you about Haneul, but not so soon after you found out about her. 

Haneul’s memory is alive and well in your head, despite the fact that you never met her. You owe it to her to remember the facts of her life, and her death, as best as you can. It awakens a tinge of anger in you to even hear Hongjoong so blatantly disregard her truth. He told you, to your face, that he liked you more than her. So he got rid of her. Not these “guardians” or whatever the fuck he’s trying to blame for her death. 

“The Guardians,” you say, plainly. “Are… what, exactly?” 

Hongjoong leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s quite an extensive explanation in The Answer, but I suppose it could be beneficial to hear about them from me.

“The Guardians, simply put, are our antagonists. They protect the Sign, keeping it in the hands of those that oppose us. When we’re close to reaching the Sign, or when the barrier is thinner than normal, such as during a ceremony, they can appear. They’re rather frightening, and they can kill or bring Followers back to their dimension.”

… You blink at Hongjoong, remembering to nod periodically through his explanation. What are you supposed to say to that? 

“So, yesterday, then, it was trying to… kill me?” You ask, sensing that Hongjoong wants something to bounce off of. 

He tsks. “I don’t suspect kill, but rather kidnap. If they know that you’ve been Chosen, they’ll continue to target you whenever the barrier is thin. Surely they know that we would go to great lengths to recover you if they were able to steal you away.” 

Hongjoong speaks with such a conviction that you can see how people are led to believe in him. If you had a weaker mindset, his crock of shit might just make sense. Or be just scary enough to make you want to believe that he could protect you. 

“But you scared it away? Yesterday?” 

Hongjoong nods gravely, closing his eyes. “They fear my presence, thankfully. Very rarely can they stand to be in the same room as me.” 

You smile, hopefully not sarcastically. “That’s very lucky for me, then.” 

“It is,” Seonghwa cuts in, surprisingly. “Hongjoong will always be with you, so you’ll always be safe.” Even more surprising than his words, Seonghwa slides his hand into resting on your mid-thigh, assuringly squeezing you. You turn toward him with wide eyes, about to question what the hell he thinks he’s doing, when his expression makes it very clear to you that you should drop the subject. 

Bizarre. Why would Seonghwa be warning you to stop talking about what Hongjoong so clearly wants you to speak about? 

So you turn back toward Hongjoong, who’s agreeing with what Seonghwa said, seemingly oblivious to his little boyfriend’s hand on your thigh. “Is there any way to protect myself, if I am alone?” You ask instead of heeding Seonghwa’s warning. 

He squeezes your thigh harder, but you ignore it. What the hell is he trying to steer you away from? If he doesn’t want you to talk about it, surely it’s something that you’re going to want to know, right? Seonghwa can’t be looking out for you, not when Hongjoong is in the room. He has his priorities in order, and Hongjoong far outweighs yourself. 

“Great question,” Hongjoong smiles approvingly. “So long as you have a Sign of the Answer on your person, you can fend them off yourself. They revere the Sign, they won’t harm someone under its protection.”

If that’s the case… you would’ve been fine, yesterday, then. As always, you had been wearing a Sign pinned to your shirt, somewhere. Though Hongjoong would probably try to argue with you that you must have been missing it, otherwise the Guardian wouldn’t have been able to attack.

But then that also raises the question. Is kidnapping someone the same as harming them? Maybe it wouldn’t have killed you, but could it still have taken you? Assuming that Hongjoong isn’t just some very creative psycho, that is. Purely for thought exercise, you have to wonder what the Sign could really protect someone from. Was yesterday an attack? Or merely an appearance?

You sense that Seonghwa is trying to warn you away from the areas that Hongjoong doesn’t have fleshed out. For all you know, yesterday is the first time that a Guardian has ever appeared in the flesh. Hongjoong might not have prepared for every possible question that you could ask. 

The questions that you’re most curious about are things that you can’t ask him. Who did he have dressed up? How did they make that stature, that outfit, that… aura? Where was the face? Were you drugged? Was everyone drugged? Did everyone see the same thing that you did, or is everyone collectively lying to you to help their leader? Seriously, where the fuck was that thing’s face? How did they do that? If it wasn’t for that gaping maw of nothingness, you’d have a much easier time writing the entire experience off as the complete joke that you logically know it must have been. You push the thought away for now. 

“I’ll be sure to always wear my pins, then.” You motion to where you have one pinned to your collar. “I have questions about the ceremonies in general, though, Hongjoong. Can I ask a few things?” 

He motions for you to proceed, and Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t tighten its hold on you, so you do. “Will there be more sacrifices?” 

Hongjoong nods. “There’s a sacrifice for each ceremony.”

“What is the sacrifice for? To what deity?” 

A hint of exasperation crosses his face as Seonghwa slides his hand a little higher. “I’ve explained this. Sacrifices are sent to different universes as aid for our clones. There’s no God in particular the sacrifice is for, except for me.” 

“So they can even use animals, in the other universes? The situation is so dire?” 

Seonghwa pinches you instead of squeezing. Hongjoong’s exasperation melts into wry acceptance. “Yes, it is. Have you ever gone months without eating meat?” 

… Yeah, probably. But you’re not going to press him harder on the subject. “I was just curious, I didn’t mean to question you. How many more ceremonies will there be this month?”

Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s right about now that you’re starting to feel a little bit insane because of it. Why would he put his hand on your thigh, of all places? Why does it keep migrating upward? Why don’t you just say something to stop him? Or use your own hand to move his away? Why is the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans so quickly? Why hasn’t Hongjoong said something yet?

“There will be one ceremony each weekend.” He says, calmer, now. “But you won’t have to participate in all of them. The most important ceremonies, the first and the last, are different and thus require the Bearer’s presence.” 

Well, that takes a bit of the pressure off, at least. Knowing that you don’t have to personally participate in every ceremony, though, no doubt, you’ll have to be present at each of them, makes you feel just a tad bit better. You have to imagine that Haseul’s Choosing ceremony will be soon… 

“Hongjoong, did I do good yesterday?” You ask, trying to feign your most innocent look. “Can I see Haseul, soon?” 

He gives you a small smile, but his answer doesn’t match it at all. “No. You made me quite mad, yesterday.”

The response is actually slightly shocking. You knew you had made him upset, but for him to vocalize it to you? To deny you seeing Haseul because of some bullshit that he orchestrated himself? 

“But—”

“No buts about it,” Hongjoong says. “You’ll be able to see Haseul once you’re behaving on a consistent basis.” 

“Won’t she have a Choosing ceremony?” You blurt, hoping that you weren’t the one to put the idea in his head. Maybe he had been planning on just keeping her locked up and not actually indoctrinating her. Had you even considered that? 

Hongjoong sighs. “I haven’t decided. Is she worthy of one?” 

What the hell does he mean ‘worthy?’ He’s seriously not going to jump at the chance to bring her in? If he wanted to, he could just kill her then and there; wouldn’t that be his dream? To end her life in front of you? Wouldn’t that just tickle his fancy? You don’t understand. 

Unless he’s taking a certain pity on her, which you highly doubt.

He must see your confusion painted plainly on your face, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “It’s no matter. You’ll see her when you deserve to. Seonghwa,” —he abruptly changes the topic and his tone— “where exactly is your hand going?” 

Seonghwa’s hand flies off of you, landing promptly back into his own lap.

“That’s what I thought.” Hongjoong tuts. “Do we need to discuss the lines that must not be crossed, again?” 

You shake your head. You do not need the sex talk again from Hongjoong. God. And it's not like you were feeling him up. 

“Seonghwa, you look particularly guilty. Do you need to tell me something?”

You suspect that, if Seonghwa looks or feels guilty of something, it's not the hand on your thigh. It's the warning you to stray away from topics that could upset Hongjoong. 

But, glancing over at him, you’re surprised to see how red his face has gotten. Do you really get him going so easily? You could almost laugh, if not for the circumstances. Surely he's not so embarrassed just to have been seen with a hand on your leg. Its not like Hongjoong walked in on his hand down your pants or anything. And hadn’t he been all up in your face before Hongjoong arrived? Where’d that confident asshole go? 

Hongjoong’s presence makes all the difference, you suppose. Hopefully he's able to play off this little episode as embarrassment about touching you. If Hongjoong realizes what he was doing, he'd probably get in trouble. 

Which is still perplexing. Why had Seonghwa done that? Since when does he want to protect you? The way he's been acting, yesterday and today, just doesn't… align with the picture you have in your head. 

Seonghwa looks literally anywhere else than at you or Hongjoong, shaking his head as well. 

Slowly, he uses his hands to slide himself farther down the couch from you. Hongjoong chuckles from your opposite side, bringing you back into the reality that you temporarily abandoned. 

“That’s pathetic, Seonghwa, really.” 

Seonghwa simply looks back toward the coffee table, his face pink. Hongjoong is so harsh.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong calls your attention back towards him, “anything you want to tell me, (Y/n)? How’s San?”

This obsession with your relationship with San is infinitely annoying. What makes them think that you’re ever going to admit to what they suspect of you? 

“San is perfectly fine.” 

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh? I only ask because he was rather… upset, yesterday, is all.”

“Wasn’t everyone a little upset?”

“Not so personally.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you that you made us live together, so it’s only natural that we care about each other.” 

“Well,” is Hongjoong’s entire response. 

The room falls into a rather uncomfortable silence. 

You look back at Seonghwa, but he’s just looking at his hands, folded in his lap, now. 

Hongjoong looks at his nail beds. 

“Are we done, then?” You ask. 

“You don’t have any more questions?” Hongjoong responds with a question, not looking up at you. 

You rack your mind for anything else. Sure, there are plenty of questions, just not ones that he would be happy to answer.

“I guess not.” 

Hongjoong looks up, flicking his eyes between you and Seonghwa. “Shall I escort you back to your apartment?” 

You look back at Seonghwa, who’s now looking between you and Hongjoong. 

“I don’t have a preference,” you say, even though you definitely do. 

“I can take her,” Seonghwa springs up, offering you his hand. 

Taking it, you also stand. “I actually have one more question, Hongjoong.”

He has to look up at you for once. He simply waits for your question while you gaze down at him.

“Is the sacrifice always an animal?”

He smiles. “More or less.”

Great. Wonderful. Perfect. You absolutely hate that response. More or less? Thats the most non-answer answer that he could've given you. And it definitely means that its not always an animal. Which makes you wonder when… and who… 

Stunned into silence, you say nothing. Neither does Seonghwa.

“Hurry back.” Hongjoong requests, dismissing the two of you without another word. 

Once you’re outside of Hongjoong’s apartment, you debate teasing Seonghwa, but decide against it. Though it would be quite fun, the poor guy is probably going to get it from Hongjoong already, no need to add to his torment. Plus, he was just trying to help you. 

He walks you in silence, again, hand-in-hand, back to your apartment. 

No sooner than you’re saying goodbye and shutting the door behind you does San appear in the entryway, grabbing for you. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?” He frantically asks, looking you up and down and all around, his hands flying around your limbs to check for injuries.

Stunned, you stay still. “I’m fine?” 

San sighs in relief, guiding you back toward the couch, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. “I was so worried they’d somehow found out. That you’d be hurt.” 

You shuffle around so that your back can rest against the armrest of the sofa, your legs still resting over his.

“They absolutely cannot find out, no matter what,” San says. “Can you tell me what you talked about?” 

So you explain the conversations for him, using a free hand to card through his hair as you do. He seems to relax after you’ve elaborated, though you leave out the part about Seonghwa and his hand. 

Part of you wonders if you should feel guilty about messing with Seonghwa. Not for his sake, but for San’s. What even is going on between the two of you? You probably shouldn’t be flirting with the enemy anyways, but San probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear about the things that have happened between yourself and Seonghwa. The fact that you leave it out when recounting the meeting must prove that you know that it’s wrong. 

“Come here,” you open your arms to him. 

He slips out from under you, realigning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest. “We’ll get out of here, together.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

You do the same, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. There’s nothing you can do but agree with him. The two of you will escape together, and soon. After that, you can forget all about this place. 

… Yeah, in your dreams. The real horror might start after you’re gone. You have to believe that San is telling the truth about Hongjoong. Revealing the cult to the authorities will only end in horror if you’re not careful. 

And you find it hard to believe that you’ll be okay once you’re gone. You’ve considered it before, the way that this sort of trauma affects someone. How long will you have to recover? Will you be able to go back to your old life? 

Will San be part of it? 

You squeeze him tighter and he reciprocates. 

← previous || next → || masterlist

[ddejavvu]

I have a tgm request! I’ve read a lot of your work but never requested so I have to fix that!!

What if r and rooster were like playing around wrestling idk whatever cute way you want to do it, and he accidentally hurts their nose or something? I’m a sucker for a big softie

You know Bradley wouldn't hurt you for a million dollars, so when the heel of his hand accidentally smashes into your nose, there's not an ounce of anger in your blood. There's panic, sure, pain, a lot of it, but no anger.

There's anger in him, though, all at himself.

At your yelp of pain he scrambles off of you, where he'd been straddling your hips and pinning you down on the couch. His hands reach quickly for your head, though, and his thumbs nudge the apples of your cheeks skyward.

"Shit!" He breathes, staring at the underside of your nose, where you can feel a slow trickle of what you're sure is blood seeping from a split in your skin, "Babe, I'm so sorry. I swear it was an accident, I just- my hand-"

"It's okay," You assure him, but the k sounds more like a g as his fingers prod at your sensitive nose, "Brad, it's- i'ss ogay."

"You're bleeding," He informs you, but it comes out nearly in a whimper, "Just- ice, you need ice. And water, and antiseptic, and- I'll just- I'll get those," He babbles, standing abruptly from where he'd been kneeling over you on the couch, "Oh, god, babe, I'm sorry."

He's off towards the bathroom too fast for you to assure him that you're really not mad, so you focus your energy on hoisting yourself upright. You know technically, you should be tilting your head backwards, but you let the blood drip down your face until he gets back. Maybe that wasn't the right choice, though, because when Bradley returns, there's some dripping all the way by your chin.

"Oh, baby," He gushes, already reaching for your face with a damp cloth, "I'm so fucking sorry, I swear to god I'll never try to take the remote again. Oh my god, it's- it's on your lips, baby, pucker."

You do as you're told, and you'd much rather have Bradley's press against your own instead of a wet paper towel. After he's done sponging your blood off of your mouth he moves onto the lower curve of your chin, but you keep your lips firmly puckered and waiting.

"All done, baby," He hums, setting the paper towel aside and smoothing his hand over your cheek. It doesn't erase your expression like he thinks it will, and your brows furrow into the least intimidating glare he's ever seen the longer he doesn't kiss you.

"Honey," He laughs exasperatedly, self-deprecatingly, "I just smacked the shit out of you. I don't think I deserve a kiss right now."

"I do," You speak, lips still scrunched and waiting for Bradley's own, "Kiss it better, Brad."

"I hit your nose," The more you tease him, the more relaxed his posture becomes, and there's no sadness left in his smile when you roll your eyes exaggeratedly.

"So kiss both, dummy. I'm waiting."

"Yes ma'am," He leans down, dotting a sticky kiss to your nose. Then, before he kisses your lips, "Sorry, ma'am."

"Thank. You." You huff, letting him dap antiseptic on the cut in your skin. It stings a little, and you're happy to take the paper towel-wrapped ice pack from him when he offers it to you.

"Here," He lets you cuddle up to his side, shoving the remote into your lap, "Take it, baby, just- put on whatever you want, I don't care. I'm never touching that thing again."

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 24

part 1, prev part

“Oh, come on, Maria,” Eddie yells at the TV. Having fallen victim to the soap operas that run nonstop. “If you stopped sleeping with your sister’s husband, maybe she wouldn’t hate you anymore.”

Dustin snorts, finishing up his math homework. Struggling to balance his notebook over his knee. But it was worth it to spend time with Eddie. Eddie who is awake and making progress. So fast that he might actually get out of the hospital in a week or two. Have physical therapy for a while and then be back to himself.

Then everything can really start to feel like normal again.

Steve finally gets there after work. Looking alive and awake instead of drained.

He laughs when he realizes what Eddie’s watching. “Maria still sleeping with Logan?”

“Yes,” Eddie exclaims. “Like what is she thinking?”

“I’m not sure any of these people have actual brain cells,” Steve snorts when he sits next to Dustin. Eddie starting to fill in the storyline Steve has missed in the past few days.

Dustin laughs while trying to get some of his biology homework done. The test is next week and he wants to do well. Wants to prove that he’s still able to get an A after everything. That the one thing he’s prided on isn’t permanently ruined.

There’s a slight rustle as Eddie flips the blankets off of him. And again as he starts to move, slipping one leg after the other off the side of the bed. He isn’t trying to stand. He couldn’t possibly think that’s a good idea.

“What’re you doing?” Steve asks, beating Dustin to the punch. Trying to hide the concern in his voice.

“Going to the bathroom.” Eddie braces his hands on the edge of the bed, ready to try and stand.

Steve shifts to the edge of his seat. “Do you need help? I can call a nurse or something.”

“I think I can use the bathroom by myself, Harrington,” Eddie snaps. Tension rising in his voice.

He pushes himself up, arms shaking as they take on his full weight. His legs extend to a standing position. Causing his full body to shake like his arms. Struggling to keep himself upright. To hold any weight at all.

“See,” he says, voice laced with pain. One hand gripping the handrail, shaking more than the rest of his limbs. Holding most of his weight. “Perfectly capable.”

Dustin can’t help but stare helplessly as Eddie takes his hand off the rail. Tries to step forward, but his legs succumb to the weight. As he falls forward, right into Steve. Steve who stood as soon as the fall started and put himself between Eddie and the floor. Creating a much softer collision.

Steve’s hands grip under Eddie’s armpits, holding him upright. While Eddie’s knees give out and he slides to the floor. Soft and controlled by Steve. A choked sob erupts from Eddie’s throat as he swears.

“Hey,” Steve tries to soothe, “hey, it’s ok. We can get you to the bathroom.”

“Nothing is fucking ok,” Eddie says defeated. Sitting on the floor with his legs splayed behind him. Hands coming up to bat Steve’s hands away. Eyes mirroring the lost, fearful look he had back at the boat house. Glossing over with tears too tired to be shed, but waiting just in case.

Steve looks to Dustin for help, not sure where to go from here. He doesn’t know Eddie like Dustin does.

Dustin shoves his homework off to the side. Sliding off his chair and onto the floor. Filling the space that Steve leaves when he slides over. Still keeping a stabilizing hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but letting Dustin take lead.

“It might not be,” Dustin starts, not sure if it’s in the right spot. “Things might not be ok. And they might not be ok for a little while. But what matters is that you’re awake. You’re getting better, and it takes time and that sucks.”

“I can’t even lift a fucking spoon without getting exhausted,” Eddie interrupts. “I can barely sit up by myself. I used to be able to do so much, and now I’m stuck in this body that I don’t even know how to control anymore.” Eddie takes a shaky breath through his teeth. Exhaling it sharply before taking another. Chest heaving. “And everything, everything, hurts. So much. All of the time and it never stops. I wake up and it hurts, I can’t sleep because it hurts. I’m so tired of it all.”

His head hits the side of the bed as he lets out a breath. Hands shaking as they come to press at his eyes. The tremble traveling down all the way back to his shoulder. Dustin never noticed the severity of it before.

“I know you are, I can’t imagine that you’re not. And if I were in your place, I’d be just as frustrated. But there’s going to be a day where the pain gets better. As your body heals and you learn how to control it again.”

Dustin takes a deep breath, trying to find a way to verbalize the thoughts in his head. To find any way to make Eddie feel better. Coming to the conclusion that there isn’t one answer to this. No one thing that will make the pain subside, or to completely take Eddie’s mind off of it.

But his friend is near tears on the floor of a hospital shaking in pain. Muscles so weak that they can barely hold their own weight. Time spent recovering that he will never get back. Leaving him with unimaginable pain, and memories that are only adding to it all. Maybe things he can’t even remember.

All Dustin can do is try. The same way that Eddie wakes up and tries to get better. The way Steve finds way to make his migraines more manageable. The way that Wayne can step into the hospital day after day before going to work. And the way that Max is learning how to navigate life again.

The way they have all adapted to circumstances thrust upon them than none ever believed could happen. All they all can do is try to make tomorrow better than yesterday. Understanding that there will be times it becomes a little bit worse, and then has to get better all over again. This merry-go-round of healing that none of them have perfected. But try to.

“You will get better, Eddie.”

Eddie huffs. “And if I don’t.”

“You will,” Steve cuts in. “I know cause I did. The bites healed, my head got better. Not without leaving their own unique scars. But you get used to it after a while. The pain, it’s still there, just sometimes isn’t as loud.”

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel like they’re still biting me.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, phantom pains are a bitch. Wait until they start itching like crazy. They’ll give you a cream for it, it doesn’t help.”

Eddie lets out a sarcastic victorious sound. “Help me get back on the bed, please.”

His voice sounds so defeated it hurts. Dustin doesn’t say anything about it though. Knowing what it took just to ask for help. Not needing to make this more difficult that it actually was.

They get Eddie back into the bed. Watching as he falls into the mattres, seeing almost immediate relief. They call a nurse in, see a glimpse into Eddie’s life while they’re not there. What life has been like for him.

What it will be like for him. For who knows how long.

“Your head,” Eddie says after a long break of silence. The question directed at Steve. “I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”

Steve nods, gently. “I’ve had about four concussions in my life. Two really severe ones and then two other’s that did not compare. But I get migraines, real bad ones. And there’s this ringing in my right ear that just won’t quit sometimes.”

“Shit, that sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. The migraines get so bad I can barely get out of bed. Barely eat anything. Robin has to come over at feed me smoothies or water so I don’t dehydrate.”

Dustin just sits there and watches as they talk about it. Their pain. Not understanding the full depths of it. The complexities that come only with experience. But he watches as Eddie calms down, knowing that he’s not alone in this. That someone else can understand even a crumb of what he’s going through. Steve looking relieved to finally tell someone else what he’s been going through. To have another person understand.

Eddie eventually falls asleep. Listening to some story Steve thought of to change the subject. To help get Eddie’s mind in a place outside of the hospital. It’s so peaceful when the hospital quiets down as the hours go by. Dustin used to find it excruciating. Now he knows that it means people are at some sort of peace.

Something everyone could use, even for a short period of time.

“You did good in there,” Steve says as they finally leave. “I didn’t really know what to do, but I think you calmed him down a bit.”

“I just hate seeing him like that.”

“I do too.” Steve puts his hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “But he’ll get better, just like you said. It will take a long time, and he might never get back to the place he was before. But he will get better. You’re helping to remind him of that.”

Better isn’t perfect. But it’s good. And good is better than bad. Dustin can take the better this time. Knowing that it will never be perfect, but it will be enough.

next part

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[sparklingcid3r]

wut did the convo between darry and child services go like? obvi was complicated but like genuinely how did he convince them he could b the guardian of 2 teenage boys? he genuinely must have nerves of steel.

also like must have been the worse adjustment if he always confided in paul or his dad when stressed, but now has no one. like his just isolation from any close relationship is soooo noticeable, esp compared to his brothers who actively lean on their best friends

just ignore that this might end up horribly inaccurate🙏 i’m here for a good time alr leave me alone😭 but fr darry was going through the traumas of odysseus on his voyage back to ithaca when he should have been getting lit at the club😔

Darry’s shell shock looks a whole lot like numbness. That’s how he feels, too, so when the same officers who just told him they’re very sorry, but his parents have been killed in an accident, he just stares and hears them iterate for him what exactly he needs to get done immediately. He forces himself to actually listen, because this isn’t about him, it’s about Pony and Soda and keeping a roof above their heads.

He needs to locate his ma and dad’s birth certificates and legal documents to have their wills probated and assets distributed, schedule an appointment with the funeral director, schedule a date for the funeral itself, meet with the court to be appointed Pony and Soda’s legal guardian, but that’s only after they deem him fit to be the sole caretaker of two teenagers. They’ll assign them a case manager. They’ll ask him what his salary is, they’ll call his old coaches to ask about his time management and self-discipline—what if he comes up short in some way? What if he makes a mistake and gets his brothers thrown in a home?

Fuck, then there’s the personal arrangements. He needs to call the college dean and tell him extraordinary circumstances have forced him to drop out, probably he’ll still have to pay for the rest of the semester he didn’t get to finish. When the case manager comes over for their meeting—the house is a mess from Darry’s birthday party, they’ll think Darry is okay with raising his brothers in filth. Something about bank statements too, he’s sure he’ll have to go over it, see what his parents have been paying for, what he’ll need to pay for and what he has to cut now that money’s about to be tighter. Bills, taxes, he needs to draw up a system to distribute those payments overdue or not. Groceries, do they need to go shopping soon? With what money? With Darry’s money, he needs to get a job now.

Darry gets to work.

Identifying the bodies is the first thing he does. He lets Steve and Johnny stay over to keep Pony and Soda company. Two-Bit offers to come with Darry to the hospital, but he refuses. When he gets to the hospital, he sees Dally standing at the entrance, cross-armed and stone-faced. He doesn’t even look at Darry when he arrives. Just pushes himself off the pillar and shrugs. “Your call.”

Darry says nothing, so Dally follows him in. The police lead him to the morgue. The sheets are carefully folded back to reveal their faces, and Darry’s stomach heaves and his eyes blur. His parents are shredded. They’re just bodies, sliced, crushed bodies. He doesn’t even realize he stumbling until a steeled hand grabs him and keeps him upright, and Dally’s saying “Easy, easy, man. Breathe, Darrel. That them?”

Darry nods. All he’s think is that it’s going to be a closed casket funeral.

The wills are the next thing he deals with. Once those are probated and the surrogate has deemed them official, Darry is free to pay the fees and obtain his inheritance, as well as transfer his parents’ money to his name in the bank.

Next, Darry searches for a job. Something physical, or something to do with numbers. He was going to be an accountant after all, might as well make some use of the few months he spent studying. After busting his ass hunting and applying, he lands a job at Fitzmorris Roofing and starts as soon as he can. The pay is decent, but not enough, so he keeps looking. Eventually he finds out about a firm at the edge of town looking for a bookkeeper, so Darry goes in for an interview and walks out with his second job.

Then are the bank statements. Darry gets issued a copy of his parents’ bank statements from the previous month and spends entire nights going through them. After crunching the numbers twice, he finds out that in two months from now, they’ll have to go without paying the electricity bill for a few weeks while Darry’s paychecks catch up with expenses. Better than going hungry. They’ll just have to deal with the dark.

So far, they’ve been feeding off the numerous donations from families around town. Lasagnas and casseroles and meatloafs, that’s what they’ve been pushing around their plates for the past two weeks. Darry surmises they have about one more week to make those last, then he’ll need to crack open a cookbook or two.

He meets with the funeral director. He advises Darry on what graveyard to pick, what kinds of caskets to hold the bodies in, how much of the burial will be covered by insurance. All Darry understands is that this is money he’ll need to cut from their budget. It eats at him.

Darry blinks and a week has gone by.

He doesn’t really remembering seeing Pony and Soda during it. Everything’s a blur. But he looks at a calendar and realizes with a seize of his heart that their case manager is supposed to meet them for the first time in—an hour and a half.

Shit, he hasn’t even gotten to cleaning the house yet. There’s laundry on the fucking couch, for Christ’s sake. Darry snatches it up and bangs down Soda and Pony’s door, dumping it on the bed. He sees a lump under the blanket and a jolt rocks him—that’s your brother, that’s Ponyboy, he’s grieving, he’s in pain, he needs help—but all he can do is kick the mattress and tell him, “On your feet, Ponyboy, Mrs. Mulligan’ll be here for dinner.” Pony doesn’t move, but there’s nothing else Darry can do, so he rips the blanket off Pony and leaves, slamming the door behind him because his own strength has become unfamiliar to him.

Soda’s in the backyard doing whatever the hell Soda’s been doing while Darry was out, and he’s called in but he comes trailing in like a wet dog. Darry doesn’t know what he’ll do if this meeting doesn’t go well, if Mulligan says Darry is not suited to provide for his brothers, how he’ll possible be able to live by himself knowing his brothers have been separated, so he snaps for Soda to stand up straight and fix his hair. Soda looks at him blankly, and again there’s a voice in Darry’s head—Sodapop’s not alright, he’s not talking, he’s not smiling, he’s not laughing, you have to fix this—but all he can say is “Now, dammit” and hits the countertop, spooking Soda enough to get him to flee, and Darry’s alone again, cleaning the table of the bills and documents, pushing them on top of the icebox and out of sight.

Darry’s prepped one of their last donated meals, macaroni salad, and set the table as nice as he can.

Fifteen minutes before Mrs. Mulligan arrives, he checks in on Pony and Soda. He stands outside their door, hand raised to knock, but he can hear them talking.

Talking about him.

“He’s gone crazy, Soda, I swear. When’s the last time you saw him stand still for two seconds? If you’ve seen him at all.”

“Dunno, Ponykid.”

“I miss Ma. I miss her and Dad. It’s like Darry hasn’t even noticed they’re gone.”

“Naw, baby, don’t say that. He’s trying, I think. He’s trying awful hard. We just don’t see it.”

“You don’t even know that. What if he’s making plans to shove us in a boys’ home?”

Darry can’t take it. His breath is lodged in his throat, but he can’t go falling apart right now, not when he’s come this far and still has a long way to go. He just knocks and calls them out to the living room.

Darry can’t meet their eyes when they sit in the living room. Pony’s lean on Soda’s shoulder but Darry can’t think about that, he’s got to put the macaroni salad in a bowl and clean off the utensils and “Pony, I told you to wash the dishes this morning.” With his back turned to his brothers, Darry winces. Anger never used to seep out this easily. But everything was enough of a threat to push him over the edge. Everything everyone said to him pierced him like a hook, made his tongue feel heavy and his blood feel hot. He needed to put a lid over it tonight.

Mrs. Mulligan’s eyes don’t rise to Darry’s when he opens the door for her. She looks behind him at their living room, at Soda and Pony on the couch, makes a funny noise in the back of her throat, then extends her hand out to Darry. Immediately Darry knows he’s going to be on the defensive the entire night. This woman does not approve of where Soda and Pony are being raised. Whether that means she doesn’t approve of the East side as a location or Darry as a guardian, he isn’t sure.

She drills him, but it’s disguised as gentle. Darry does everything slowly. Serving the food, making small talk, discussing Pony and Soda’s grades. Mulligan switches to speaking directly to the boys, and Darry’s not hungry, but he pretends to enjoy chewing the rubbery macaroni and keeps his head down.

Despite their reservations about life without their parents, Soda and Pony defend Darry to the case manager. It goes smoothly enough that she leaves Darry with a smile and a promise to stay in touch.

When the door clicks shut, Pony is gone in the blink of an eye back to his room. Soda just stalks into the kitchen and starts wrapping up leftovers, cleaning off the dishes. Darry tries to get Soda to sleep, but Soda turns to him.

“I’ll do the dishes, Darry. Just don’t get mad at Pony.”

“No, Soda, I’ll do it—“

“You’re tired, Darry. Let me be useful?”

Soda always knew how to spin the conversation in his favor. He was right. Darry was tired. He was just… tired.

But there’s a reason Darry hasn’t given himself a restful night yet. He doesn’t trust himself yet.

“Give me the sponge, Sodapop. Pony needs you.”

Darry’s had sixteen years to learn how to outmaneuver his kid brother. He’s not in the mood to fight fair.

Soda concedes and draws away from the sink, but he lingers in the doorway. “We need you, too, Darry.”

“I know. I’ll be here in the morning.”

He wouldn’t be. He’d be gone by the time they woke up, on top of a roof with bundles of roofing slung over his shoulder, but it wasn’t his physical presence that mattered. He was going to keep their heads above water, no matter what it took.

“When’s the funeral?” asks Soda.

“Friday.”

Two days. Two days until it was official and their parents were covered in dirt. Darry just needed to keep it together until then.

“G’night, Darry.”

“G’night.”

When the funeral comes, Darry’s quiet. Pony and Soda are weeping, unashamed by it, so Darry’s the one people feel comfortable giving their condolences to. He shakes a lot of hands, feels disgusted by it, like he’s collecting germs and other people’s bad luck. The gang is there, even Dally, but they hang in the back of the crowd, discounting Two-Bit, who’s up front with his ma and sister.

After Darry gives the eulogy he doesn’t remember writing, he watches twin caskets get sunk into the ground, dirt spilling on top of them, and Darry is officially alone. He leaves the ceremony, goes and sits down on a bench outside the fencing.

Not yet. Don’t break yet.

A shadow falls across his own. Dally’s taking drags from a cigarette at his side. He’s just as quiet as Darry, but offers the cancer stick. Darry accepts it, taking a few puffs. He’s out of practice and coughs the first time. Dally just pats his back and waits for him to try again. It feels good, but not the kind of good Darry knows he can depend on. He’s still got to stay healthy if he’s going to be trudging around in the sun for half his day and sitting around doing math for the other half.

“Do what you gotta do, as long as it’s nothing permanent,” Dally says.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Darry replies, handing back the cigarette. His eyes sting.

It’s like the world’s stopped rotating after his parents are put to rest. Not when Darry actually expected it to. He closes the door to his parents’ bedroom, the room he’s been sleeping in for the past… however long it’s been.

He doesn’t even make it to the bed. The moment the door’s locked behind him, Darry’s loosening his dad’s tie from his neck, yanking at his dad’s collar to untighten his airways, but it doesn’t work. He slumps against the door and slides down, messing up his hair and crying into his arms, only as hard as his silence will allow. Pony and Soda are in the next room over, still teary, consoling each other. Darry won’t steal their reprieve.

He falls apart alone, wondering how he’s meant to wake up tomorrow in a world he doesn’t want to live in. And when he picks himself up and puts himself back together, he’ll do that alone too. He doesn’t have a choice.

istg sometimes yall just gotta LET ME COOK 👩‍🍳 can u tell i got super into it the longer i went on for lmao

oh btw this doesn’t scratch the surface of everything darry prob needed to do. he would have had to choose what his parents wore in their caskets, dealt with the scrapping of the car, assumed responsibility of the real estate deed (the house), communicated with pony and soda’s high school, communicated with his parents’ former employers, etc etc. the break was uncatchable i fear

[drabbles-mc]

Even if You Don't

Benny Cross x Johnny Davis

Warnings: 18+, pining, angsty feels

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: went and saw The Bikeriders and immediately became unwell about it. won't be normal about them for a long time, i think.

Johnny’s first mistake was thinking that it would mean anything to him.

That was half the reason he fell for Benny in the first place. Before he even realized that he fell for him, he saw the way that Benny never seemed to bat an eye at anything and immediately Johnny knew that he wanted, needed, to keep him close by. Everything that they’d gone through, everything they’d done for the club, it never seemed to break the skin. Not Benny’s. Other guys, yeah, but not Benny. Never Benny.

His real mistake was thinking that he would be the one thing that would get underneath Benny’s skin. He wanted to. More than almost anything else he wanted to be the thing that put a crack in Benny’s armor, the thing that protected him more than the denim and patch on his back. But he wasn’t, even though he tried.

“It’s yours,” Johnny said, standing so close to Benny that Benny could feel his breath fanning across his skin. “Just…think about it.”

Benny didn’t look at him. Johnny’s lips were practically brushing against the impossibly smooth skin of Benny’s cheek and it was like he didn’t even notice. Johnny felt like his breath was catching in the back of his throat and he didn’t want to think that he was alone in that.

Maybe, he thought, his first mistake wasn’t thinking that it would matter to Benny. Maybe his first mistake was saying something other than what he really meant. If Johnny had plucked up the courage to say what he was really feeling, maybe then it would’ve mattered to Benny. The truth, laid out bare and vulnerable the way it should’ve been, might have gotten Benny to at least meet his eyeline.

It shouldn’t have been any harder to say, really. The truth in its totality was no longer of an explanation than the sliver of it that he’d offered to Benny in that moment. But he just couldn’t do it. Johnny could take a lot of beatings and still come out on top, keep getting back up again. He could wipe out on his bike and not hesitate to throw his leg back over it again once he got it upright. He could take all of that and then some with almost no complaints. But he knew he couldn’t take the toll of telling Benny everything and still having him walk away.

Kathy’s words rattled relentless around his skull. It was easier to blame his hesitancy on her so that was exactly what he did. It was her, not his own cowardice, that made him flake in the moment when it mattered most. He held his tongue and watched Benny hobble away on his crutch, not even sparing Johnny a backwards glance as he did. He wanted him, even if he couldn’t have him.

Benny never brought it up again. Johnny had to fight the urge every day to ask him about it. If the two of them hadn’t been men of such few words, he never would’ve been able to stop himself. He should’ve just been honest from the start. It’d make for one less weight on his shoulders. Late at night when he was laying in bed staring up at the ceiling, Johnny could swear that he felt the warmth radiating off Benny’s cheek still lingering on his skin. They’d been so close.

It was the middle of the night when Johnny tried to tell him again. The two of them cloaked in darkness, just like last time. Only this time their privacy wasn’t secured by an empty field, but by the close confines of Johnny’s car. They were still so close, and Benny still wasn’t looking at him.

“I can’t run this on my own anymore,” Johnny said. Not a lie but still not the full truth.

Benny wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were locked on the windshield, or rather on the street in front of them. Johnny was no mind-reader but he was still willing to bet that Benny was probably thinking about how quickly and easily he could get out of the car and make his way back over to his bike. Johnny couldn’t let him slip away without saying what he needed to. Not again.

“This club…it needs someone like you.” He was kicking himself for each word as it came out but he didn’t stop. “Not even someone like you,” he said as he shook his head. “It needs you. You.”

Benny raised his eyebrows slightly and Johnny thought that maybe they were getting somewhere. He was thinking that maybe Benny would turn and look at him and he’d see it all in Johnny’s eyes so he wouldn’t have to say it all out loud. Benny would just know what to do because Benny always knew what to do. Then Benny’s gaze just dropped to his own hands instead.

Johnny rested his hand on the console between them. He drew in a deep breath as slowly and quietly as he could, not wanting to give himself away although he briefly considered the fact that it was already too late for that. His hand clenched into a fist, grip tighter than it’d ever been wrapped around a handlebar, blunt nails digging into the meat of his palm.

He was able to look at Benny all the way up until the moment he started to speak again. Right as the first word started to tumble out, he stared at his clenched fist with more intensity than Benny was staring at his hands. If he looked at his hand, he wouldn’t be able to see the reaction or lack thereof on Benny’s face as he said, “I need you.”

The pause was agonizing. Silence hadn’t ever caused Johnny’s ears to ring quite so loudly before. His hand started to tremble as it stayed clenched on the console. He didn’t know what he was expecting. But he wanted it to be something. There wasn’t even the click of the door handle to let him know that Benny was walking away all over again.

Johnny’s voice had a bare hint of a tremor to it when he spoke up again, most of it disguised underneath the usual rasp. “I can’t do this without you.”

Benny shrugged, looking at Johnny’s clenched fist. “You’ve been runnin’ the club fine so far.”

Despite the passive nature of Benny’s words, they still breathed confidence into Johnny that had been slipping away in the silent moments before. He found it in himself to look at Benny even if he wasn’t going to return the favor. “I don’t mean the club. I can’t…” he trailed off for a moment, forcing his hand to open, palm flattening against the console again. “Club’s yours if you want it. I’m yours even if you don’t.”

That was what did it. Benny’s eyes flicked up from the console. He kept his expression trained, neutral the way that it so often. But the unwavering eye contact that he was finally giving said more than a blush or a frown or a smile ever would have. Johnny felt the air get stuck in the back of his throat again, felt the flashback of warmth from Benny’s skin despite the distance between them.

Slowly, almost methodically, Benny brought his hand up. He dragged the pads of his fingertips across his lips, like the action was coaching him into whatever his next move was going to be. Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off of Benny’s, but even so he was painstakingly aware of the fall of Benny’s hand. It didn’t land on top of Johnny’s. He didn’t get the reward of the warmth of Benny’s palm coating the back of his hand the way he desperately yearned for. But Benny’s hand did land in such a way that the tips of his fingers hooked against his. A ghost of a touch but somehow still more than Johnny felt like he’d ever gotten from him before.

It was always Johnny, really. Johnny’s hand out in an offer of help from the ground after a fight. Johnny’s arm tucked against Benny’s back helping him limp away after wiping out of his bike. Johnny’s hand firm against his chest pulling him back before Benny took things a few hits too far. It was always Johnny. Reaching. Starting. Hoping.

Now he could feel the pull of Benny’s fingers against his own. Touch that he didn’t initiate. Touch that Benny wasn’t pulling away from but rather leaning into. Johnny didn’t know when Benny’s face got so close to his, the two of them drawing closer and closer like a pair of magnets. Always pulling despite it all. There was no barrier this time, no safety net of Johnny’s lips beside Benny’s cheek, breath against his jawline. He couldn’t hide. Benny wasn’t letting him.

“Think about it,” Johnny said, repeating his words from before. He wondered if Benny would see it now, the way that it’d always been about this. Or maybe he always knew. Maybe he just wanted Johnny to say it so he knew he meant it.

Benny’s lips brushed against his in a way that somehow managed to be soft but still knock the wind out of him in a way that a landed punch never had. Soft in a way that Johnny hadn’t felt deserving of for longer than he could remember.

Then he was gone again. Hands in his lap, leaning back in the passenger seat like none of it had even happened. Eyes fixed forward once more while Johnny was still fighting the urge to lunge across the console to finish what they were finally starting.

Benny didn’t care about anything until he did, and even then he didn’t show it. Johnny reminded himself of that as he felt the chilly air winding its way between his fingers where Benny’s had previously been. He fixed himself so that he was properly back in the driver’s seat. There was a slight frown tugging at his lips as he tried to think about anything other than the rapid beat of his heart. Meanwhile Benny looked like he was thinking about his next cigarette.

Johnny’s tongue darted out along his bottom lip, gathering up the last traces of Benny he’d have for now, or for good if the cards didn’t fall just right. It wasn’t until he saw Benny mirror the same action, the fleeting but pensive look on his face as he did so, that Johnny allowed himself to entertain the thought that maybe Benny wasn’t as impenetrable as he’d originally thought. Benny who never batted an eye, Benny who acted first and thought about it later, Benny who didn’t bother asking questions. Benny who never flinched when it came to the club. That was the Benny that Johnny knew.

But now this wasn’t about the club anymore. He watched Benny, for the first time in a long time, think before making his next move. Then Johnny watched Benny reach for the handle of the door and he just hoped that he wasn’t making another mistake. The tightness in his chest was soothed only by the look Benny cast back over his shoulder at him as he walked to his bike. A ghost of a smirk on his face.

Bikeriders Taglist: currently nonexistent because i just saw the movie and started writing for it today 😂 benny and johnny will be living in my head rent free for the foreseeable future though so if you wanna get tagged please let me know! xo

[itsphoenix0724]

I love your fics. Could you do an Azriel x Reader fic based on the song Hate Me by Blue October? It could lend itself to a great premise. The song didn't have a happy ending so I think the fic wouldn't need to either. I think it could be that Reader and Azriel were together (not mates) and Az did something to cause the Reader pain. And I feel like the fic could be vignettes of the IC spending time together and Reader ignoring him. Maybe even it could end with Reader finding someone new and moving on. If you like the idea, thanks in advance!

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Hi lovely! Thank you so much for your request. I love me a good angst fic lol. I tried a different formatting for this, so we'll see how you guys feel about it! I hope you enjoy, please feel free to visit my page anytime <3

If you’re sleeping, are you dreaming? If you’re dreaming are you dreaming of me? 

Azriel bolts upright in bed, chest heaving with shaking breaths that he can’t keep in. His hand instinctively reaches out to your side of the bed, but it meets nothing but cotton, fabric slipping through his fingers like water. You had been there, for a few blissful moments, holding him as you always had when the nightmares roused him from sleep. Now he was alone, and no one was at fault for it but himself. 

I had to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head. They crawl in like a cockroach, leaving babies in my bed 

He may have hated himself for it but he tried to find comfort elsewhere, when he wasn’t working he was in the slums of Vlearis, drinking himself to the point of blacking out. He needed to forget your face, your voice, your smell. He couldn’t stand to be in the house the two of you had shared, not when your phantom was constantly haunting the halls, chasing him down at every turn. He thinks of you barefoot, singing and padding around the kitchen in nothing but your nightgown, and orders another shot.

And will you never say that you loved me just to put it in my face? And will you never try to reach me? It is I that wanted space. 

Azriel wanted you to yell at him, he wanted you to scream your rage so hard that the mountains rumbled. He could have taken that, he wanted it even. But what he couldn’t take is your indifference. Family dinners at the River House were mandatory, and Azriel tried to attend as few of them as possible. Mainly because you were always there. You had every right to attend, and you were always pleasant to him. Sending him tight-lipped smiles and polite nods, even passing him the potatoes at dinner. It was like looking in a warped mirror, a portrait someone had poured water over. His former happiness was nothing but running paint. 

Hate me today, Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you. 

“Another mission?” You questioned from the doorway as Azriel was shoving things into a pack. “But you just got back yesterday?” Azriel sighed deeply, buckling the pack shut and hauling it over his shoulder.  “I know, I’m sorry but this is a serious matter.” His shoulders were tense, the dark circles under his eyes still prominent from not resting.  “How long will you be gone?” Your brows furrow. “A week at least,” came his tense reply. You were quiet for a moment, and the tension that filled the room could be cut with a knife.  “You’ll miss our anniversary, can’t they send someone else?” Your broken tone hurt his heart, but he persisted.  “Rhys needs this done urgently.” He pressed, fastening the straps of his leathers. “Rhys would never miss his and Feyre’s anniversary.” You snapped, the annoyance finally wearing on you.  “Well Rhys and Feyre are mates,” Azriel bit back and immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. You took a step back, the betrayal shining clear on your features.  “Fine then, enjoy your mission.” You left his study, and he could hear the bedroom door slamming behind you.  He should’ve gone after you, he should’ve gone upstairs and begged for your forgiveness, but he left.  And he would regret that decision for the rest of his life.

While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight. You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicide and hate. You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take

He returned from the mission and your things were gone. No trace was left of you in the apartment you once shared except for a letter on the kitchen table. Even in your goodbye, you weren’t angry, it was like you knew that this was coming for a while, but he was completely blindsided.  He could still recite the letter back from memory.  Azriel read it repeatedly, it was still in the back of a drawer in his office, unable to bear getting rid of it.  “Dear Azriel,  I’m sorry to leave you like this, however, I know that if I were to try in person I would fail. Please know I still love you, a part of my heart will always be yours to possess, but I cannot continue a relationship with a ghost. I need you to know a few things. Please don’t hate yourself for this, you tried your best but you are too obsessed with your work. I wish you could see that your family values you as a person and not for your abilities. No one would’ve loved you less if you had taken a day off, but I understand your battles. Another thing, do not try to follow me. I am taking some time, to find myself and heal, I hope you will do me this favor and respect that. I hope one day we can be friends. I’m sorry.”  Your name signed at the bottom felt like a brand stamped into his heart, the fact that you felt the need to apologize to him twisted the knife even further. True to his word, he respected your boundaries, and when you finally returned to the Night Court everything was different. You seemed to glow again and laugh again, and Az realized just how much of a shell you had become at the end of your relationship. 

And with a sad heart, I say bye to you and wave. Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made.

It was bittersweet for Azriel when you finally brought home your new partner. A male you met in Dawn on an emissary trip. The rest of the inner circle warmed to him quickly, as much as it pained Az to admit he was a good male. Theon made you blush, and laugh and was completely devoted to you. He gave you everything Azriel himself could not and he was happy for you. When it came time for Azriel to introduce himself, he glanced once at you running your teeth between your bottom lip with worry, and decided he would no longer be a barrier to your happiness. So, he did his best to smile and shook the male's hand to introduce himself.  You were happy, that was all that mattered to him. 

Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you