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writeonwhiskey · 9 months ago

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the skz house: ch 12 (18+)

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing & shmeems for proofreading.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter eleven here ]

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays and Professor Bang

On your way to school Monday morning, Chan tells you to stay with Hyunjin again tonight. There’s no hiding the look of confusion on your face as you turn to face him. You don’t know if he assumes you and Hyunjin have already had sex or if it’s a new revelation—you wouldn’t be surprised if there were an iridescent aura surrounding you after the night you had with Hyunjin. Isn’t that what Chan wanted? You don’t want to read too deeply into his words, however you can’t help but feel like he’s pushing you away.

Chan’s eyes remain focused on the road. Even if he were looking at you, you’d have no idea what he’s thinking. You never do.

“Have another night with him, since the challenge starts this week,” he adds to his alarming statement with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal.

Maybe it is.

“Is this a game of hot potato?” You ask, half joking. “And I’m the potato being tossed around?”

“Is that how it feels?”

“A little bit.” You softly admit.

“If you’re uncomfortable, remember you can always le—”

“Chan,” you cut him off sharply. “I’m not saying I want to leave. I’m actually starting to settle in and enjoy myself. I’m just expressing how I feel. People have feelings, you do know that, right?”

He turns to look at you when he stops at a red light.

“The SKZ house is not a place for feelings, y/n. You do know that, right?” He counters.

You suck in a breath at his words and face forward. Clearly Chan has overcome his hangover and is back to being an asshat.

Hyunjin has no problem with your feelings. To hear you out when you express them, to cater to them, to protect them. Chan tramples all over them, like they’re dirt beneath his feet.

That can’t be entirely true, though. He showed that to you yesterday when he apologized.

You sigh and lean back against the headrest. It’s like he wants to provoke you sometimes, to make you angry, make you snap…to make you leave.

It infuriates you that he believes he could have such an influence over you. If he were smart, he’d give it a shot when you’re at your weakest—when he’s teasing you to the brink of insanity. You’d agree to damn near anything in those moments. But right now, with your full wits about you, he’s just pissed you off.

You fix your posture in the seat, feeling your determination to not let him get his way increase. In this car ride, on your way to your shared class, you make the decision to do whatever it takes to make Chan break in November. You’ll make him see he can’t push you around, that two can play this game. You’ll have him begging you for once.

On Tuesday, the duration of your afternoon class is filled with reminiscing about your bonus night with Hyunjin. You try to remain focused, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him and the things he did to you. That boy is made of magic and being with him, having him inside of you, makes you feel like you are too.

After class you wait in the parking lot for Changbin and Seungmin as usual for this day of the week. You’re dreading the thought of going home and being in Chan’s room. With tomorrow being November 1st, you can only assume he plans to get in a month’s worth of you in one night. And even more, you know you’ll cave to his needs the second his lips are on yours. But you can delay it. You can make him wait.

When Changbin and Seungmin make it back to the car, you put your plan to stall going home into action.

“Minnie…Binnie,” you address them ever so sweetly as they approach.

Changbin arches a suspicious eyebrow, Seungmin grins.

“How do you guys feel about a pit stop at the mall?”

“What for?” Changbin asks, unlocking the car doors.

“I need to pick up something.”

No, you don’t.

“Sure,” Seungmin agrees.

You smile at him in return and get into the backseat.

“I have a strict food court tax, as the driver,” Changbin informs you while starting up the car.

Your smile widens. That’s just perfect. Another pit stop.

“I got you, Binnie Boo.”

Changbin scrunches up his face at the nickname.

“Oh, but if I were Hyunjin, you’d eat that right up.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, yeah,” he admits without hesitation. “That’s the love of my life.”

He holds a straight face for a second before breaking out into a smile and you all laugh as he backs out of the parking space.

Your detour to the mall ends up taking three hours. It’s officially Halloween day so the inside is crowded with parents and their young children trick-or-treating at the stores. Just as planned, you all end up stopping at various stores along the way to the one you need to get to (you’ve no idea which, but it’s okay). Changbin gets a hat from LIDS. Seungmin buys a bracelet from a kiosk. Then you all head for the arcade and when they’re planted in the seats of a race car game, you leave them there for a bit to complete your imaginary errand. You go to a nearby clothing store and pick out a new pair of jeans and a couple of form fitting tops, remembering the suggestions Jeongin had for you what feels like forever ago.

Hyunjin reaches out to see where you are. Chan does not.

When you meet back up with them you go to the food court and get Changbin a meal from Hot Dog On A Stick at his request, and treat yourself and Seungmin to pretzels from Auntie Annie’s, even though he didn’t ask for anything. After you kill some more time eating, the three of you stop at Spencer’s to see what kind of odd items they have on display.

There are shirts with suggestive images and phrases, lollipops and shot glasses shaped like dicks, sex card games, drinking games, and even vibrators and anal plugs tucked away in the back corner. You each purchase something wildly inappropriate (you make sure to checkout when they’re both preoccupied to avoid judgement or teasing for your items) and then decide to leave the mall.

There’s a smug look on your face as you check the time—it’s nearly 7:00pm now.

Mission success.

The drive home takes an additional twenty minutes and when you enter the neighborhood, trick-or-treaters are walking the sidewalks. You convince Changbin to drive around so you can look at everyone’s exterior decorations because another ten minutes won’t hurt.

It’s 7:30 when you make it back to the house. Changbin has you and Seungmin exit the car first. He opens the garage door so Seungmin can back out the other Tesla that’s on the charger and swap it out for this one. You let them handle that and take your backpack and shopping bags into the house.

Jeongin and Charlotte are at the door passing candy out. Hyunjin, Han, Lee Know and Felix are in the living room, but you don’t see Chan. You set your bag by the stairs, wave to the couch surfers, get a wink from Hyunjin, and go to the kitchen, right in time to help Allie and Rhiannon make dinner.

You text Chan when dinner is done, but he tells you to bring up your plates. Plural.

You have a lot to lug up the stairs. You put your backpack on, slide your shopping bags onto your arms, then pick up the tray with your plates on it. When you make it to his door you kick it gently with your foot, but loud enough to be heard.

He opens it within seconds. You haven’t seen him all day, so the sight of him in dark jeans and a tucked-in, light blue, pinstriped button up shirt with the top two buttons undone makes you forget what you’re even doing. He’s wearing two different styles of earrings again—a thick silver hoop on his right ear and what looks like silver links on his left. Your eyes fall to the necklace and the silver infinity pendant resting on his skin. He takes the tray from you and steps aside.

“Thank you,” you say, snapping out of your daze.

You’ve never seen him dressed up in this way before. What was he doing all day? He probably went to church to ask forgiveness for the things he’ll do to you tonight.

He shuts the door behind you and sets the tray on his bed as you start to walk towards your own. Before you can reach it, his hand grabs your left wrist, spins you around and pulls you towards him.

What’s with these men doing that to you? And why do you like it so much?

The breath is knocked out of you as you collide with his chest, the shopping bags falling from your right arm. The bag on your left is held in place where his hand is holding your wrist. You slowly bring your eyes up, lingering on that necklace and the skin beneath it, then to his eyes.

“What did you need to get from the mall?” He asks in a low tone.

You resist the urge to arch an eyebrow. So, if he hadn’t texted you about where you were this afternoon…he must have reached out to Seungmin or Changbin instead.

“Stuff,” you reply, hardening your gaze. “Did you need me for something?”

You know there’s now only three and a half hours until midnight. Until November. And you still need to eat, and shower—plus he has an early morning class on Wednesday. Oops. Must have slipped your mind.

It didn’t.

“I had plans for you,” he replies calmly. “What did you have to get?”

It’s none of his business, really.

Not accepting your silence, he looks down at the bag on your wrist. You’re not sure which one fell to the floor, but you silently pray it was the one from Spencer’s.

He lets go of your wrist and removes the bag from it, then holds the bag up in front of you.

“Spencer’s, huh?”

You watch, cursing yourself mentally as he reaches inside the bag. You had felt so damn smug about returning home late and now this is your karma. You can feel the tides changing already, knowing what he is about to discover.

The first thing he pulls out is the deck of cards with “Naughty Party” written on it.

His eyes flicker from the deck of cards to you and you feel your face flush.

He reaches in the bag again and you pray he doesn’t see or feel a particular item you purchased. When his hand comes out of the bag again, this time he’s holding a large pink and purple, cotton candy flavored, dick shaped lollipop. You quickly snatch the bag from him as his eyes light up with laughter.

“That was just an extra stop…I didn’t specifically go there for…” your eyes move to the lollipop and card game in his hand, “that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he replies as if he doesn’t believe you.

“We should eat before the food gets cold,” you say, tentatively walking backwards until you’re near your bed. You place the bag down and your backpack on top of it, wanting the other item in the bag to remain hidden.

He sits on his own bed, opening the deck of cards. He uses the stick end of the dick lollipop to cut through the shrink wrap securing it.

“I’m actually not that hungry anymore,” he declares. And just like that, he has the upper hand again. “You ate at the food court, right?”

Jesus Christ, do all the members report back to him with everything you do? Or did he ask? The former would make you annoyed…the latter makes you feel disgustingly warm inside.

He sets the trash and lollipop aside and opens the box to take out the cards. You sit on your bed, watching his amused face as he looks through the deck. He separates them on the bed into the five piles you read on the back—icebreaker, foreplay, naughty, kinky, and drink or dare.

He stands from his bed, picks up the tray with your now abandoned dinner on it and puts it on his desk. He then walks to your bed and holds out his hand to you. You place yours in his with a quiet sigh.

He leads you to his bed, bringing you to stand in front of him. He rests his hands on your hips and leans over your shoulder, his cheek just barely touching yours.

“No icebreakers or drinking,” he makes his own rules, of course. “Pick a card.”

That leaves only foreplay, naughty or kinky. Which is the lesser of the three evils you’ve gotten yourself into? You pick up the foreplay card.

He leans over you more to see what it says, gripping your hips, holding you against him. Your heartbeat picks up as he rubs the side of his face against yours. You want to lean back into him, to tell him to forget the game and just do what he wants with you—but this is what he wants now.

“What does it say?” He asks.

“You are desperately trying to get better grades in class. Your partner is…” you stop reading, eyes widening at the words.

“Your partner is your teacher,” Chan continues for you. You can hear the smile in his words. “Convince them to give you a good grade.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing and simultaneously wanting to vomit at the idea of roleplaying. Roleplaying with Chan, no less.

His hands fall from your hips, and you feel him backing away from you. You keep your eyes closed, wanting to kick yourself for even purchasing this game. This is not how you thought tonight to go, and this is not how you intended to use the deck of cards. Karma circled back around quick for your defiant behavior today.

You hear him shuffling around behind you, opening and closing drawers. Then the room falls silent.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Chan says.

You toss the card onto the bed and let out a deep breath. You open your eyes and spin around.

Chan is leaning against his dresser, a pair of circular, gold framed glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, a red book with gold letters on the cover in his hand. The props combined with the outfit he’s wearing, are perfect for his ‘character’. The sight almost makes you smile—if you weren’t so fucking nervous. You chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say or do.

“Ah, y/n.” Chan begins for you. “What brings you to my office?”

He has a teasing smile on his face. You take a step forward and clear your throat.

“Well, Cha—“

He shoots a stern look at you, one brow arched.

“I mean, Professor Bang,” you correct. “I wanted to talk about my grade in your class.”

He snaps the book shut and sits it on the dresser. He pushes his glasses up.

“Ah, yes. They’re not quite what I expected from you,” he says, crossing his legs, then his arms in front of his chest.

You feel silly. So silly. You can’t help but appreciate how serious he’s being. It encourages you to get more into it.

“I know,” you look down at your feet and take a few more steps forward. “Things have been really hectic with work and school; I haven’t been able to keep up with the assignments.”

“I see,” he says flatly. “I wish you’d come to me sooner, it’s too late in the semester now. I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it at this point.”

You slowly look back up at him, trying your best to make your eyes look sad. You chew on your bottom lip again, this time as part of the act.

“Please, sir.”

His lip quirks at the corner hearing that, but he keeps a straight face.

“I can’t fail this class,” you shake your head, walking forward until there’s only a few feet between you. “I know you’re an understanding teacher. There must be something I can do. Some kind of extra credit.”

His eyes fall from your head to your toes, then back up again. Part of you wishes you’d had on better clothing rather than a jacket and jeans. Though—you had rushed to get ready this morning after untangling yourself from Hyunjin and only have on a sports bra beneath the jacket. You could use that to your advantage.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I really don’t think that’s possible.” He shakes his head.

You force out a sad sigh as you bring your hand up to your jacket zipper. You start to pull it down, watching his face, watching his eyes move from yours down to the skin slowly being revealed.

“Sir, I really can’t fail this class,” your tone actually sounds desperate. You stop the zipper just beneath your navel.

“I really don’t think this is appropriate, y/n,” he tells you.

You tentatively close the distance between you. He’s looking directly at your exposed cleavage as you approach. You reach out for the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll do anything to pass this class, Professor Bang,” you say, emphasizing his oddly fitting last name.

You tentatively undo one button, looking from your hands at work, then back up to him.

You’re not sure how far he’ll go into character, if he’ll try to stop you. You’re also not sure where this sudden confidence emerged from. You’ve never seduced anybody before, you don’t know what you’re doing. The fact that he’s playing along makes it a little more comfortable. The plus side to this debacle is that it’s good practice for next month.

That’s how you have to look at this. You can make this work for your long-term goal. You can give him a night he won’t forget with this act. Something he’ll want more of. Something he’ll want to experience with you again.

You fight against the smile threatening to give away the villainous plan that’s just been sparked in your head.

You’ve got two buttons undone and he hasn’t stopped you. You push up onto your tiptoes, moving your mouth closer to his.

“Anything,” you whisper, letting your lips brush against his.

You kiss along his jawline as your hands keep working on the buttons. You tug on the shirt to pull it out of his pants to finish unbuttoning it, nipping at his neck.

“I could get fired for this,” he says.

With his shirt unbuttoned you slide your hands up his chest, to his shoulders.

“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” you say, pushing his shirt down. You lay a trail of kisses from his right shoulder, across his collarbone, to his left shoulder, while your hand tugs at the button on his jeans, then the zipper.

His hands grip your hips. You slip a hand beneath his boxers. His cock is already hard when you cup it, and it feels like the biggest win.

“I promise.” You hook a finger under his chain. You stand flat on your feet and use the chain to bring him down towards you as you squeeze his cock. His eyes bore into you as he licks his lips. You’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. Is this really working? “It’ll be our little secret.”

His mouth crashes against yours and he lets out a groan, pulling your hips against him.

As expected, his lips on yours instantly makes you feel ravenous. You run your hands along his chest as his tongue enters your mouth, caressing yours. You’ve missed the taste of him—not that your time with Hyunjin wasn’t amazing, but the unknown and unaddressed feelings between you and Chan make your intimacy equally pleasing for drastically different reasons.

You push away from him when it becomes too much, needing to take a breath. He seizes the opportunity to finish unzipping your jacket.

“You left the house like this?” His tone is rough and accusatory and makes you wonder if the roleplay is finished. “In just a bra and jacket?”

“Yes,” you’re hesitant to reply.

His lips are back on your skin, leaving a trail of heat as he kisses along your neck while removing your jacket. You tilt your head to the side and arch your back, wanting more of his touch.

“No shirt,” he continues, unzipping the sports bra at the front. “That’s the kind of student you are?”

His hands are on your hips again and he guides you back a little. You drop your hands from his chest and stare up at him, silent. He slides the straps of the bra off your shoulders. As soon as the air hits your nipples you feel them tighten.

He lets out a low breath at the sight. You both remain still.

“I thought you were a good girl, y/n.”

You’re not sure when he took the upper hand again, but you’re thankful for a moment to not think of what your ‘character’ would say and just bask in the feeling of his lustful eyes on you.

“Show me what you’ll do for your grade,” he says, reaching out to cup your breasts. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, making you moan.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down along with his jeans, lowering yourself to your knees. He steps out of them, and you look up. The only remaining item of clothing he has on is his shirt. It’s halfway off, hanging from his biceps—broad, sculpted shoulders and ripped abdomen on full display. You move your hands to his cock, lightly caressing it with your fingertips.

You hold the base with one hand and use your other to glide your pointer finger across the tip until that clear fluid starts to emerge. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you push forward to take in as much of him as you can. He grips your hair with both hands, pulling on the strands while you flick your tongue from side to side along the bottom of his shaft.

You squeeze your cheeks together, sucking hard as you pull off his cock, causing a loud popping sound when it comes out.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Professor Bang,” you say, looking up at him as you readjust yourself on your knees.

His jaw clenches and his eyes light up as he tightens his grip on your hair. He positions your mouth back over his cock. You take a deep breath and open wide. He holds your head in place while his hips thrust forward and backwards, slowly at first, then faster and deeper. It takes every bit of concentration to keep your gag reflex in check as his cock slides further down your throat.

It’s messy. There’s saliva all around your mouth, probably dripping down your chin. He likes it this way. He's grunting and groaning, and you love the sounds he makes. You love that he’s making these sounds while he’s in your mouth. Only you can give him this pleasure. This Chan is not an asshat. This Chan wants you. Needs you. You rub your hands up and down his thighs, scratching lightly with your nails.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants each time he thrusts.

When he pulls all the way out, you lean forward to take him in your mouth again, but he stops you. He’s breathing heavily and with the way he’s gripping his cock, you can tell he almost came.

The amount of self-control he has in these moments is concerning. At least for the goal you’ve set to accomplish next month.

He motions for you to stand, and you do. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin.

He unbuttons and unzips your pants, pushing them down halfway and having you do the rest. As soon as you’ve stepped out of them, he grabs you by the waist and picks you up. His grip on you is firm, yet effortless, as he turns around to sit you on the dresser.

You love this dresser. It might be your favorite dresser in the world.

He adjusts you so you’re close to the edge and spreads your legs apart. He keeps his hands on your knees, bending down slightly to get eye level with your pussy.

It's in these moments that you know. No matter how he treats you any other time of day—the look in his eyes right now says so much. He wants you in a way you’ve never been wanted before. Whether or not that extends to anything other than a physical connection is for you to worry about later.

He slides his pointer finger along your folds, then rubs circles around your clit. He looks up to catch your eye. There’s a playful glint there when he speaks.

“You’ve worked your way up to a C,” he announces, stepping back.

You scoff and bite back a smile.

He turns around and walks to the bed, leaving you spread open on his dresser. He picks up the dick-shaped lollipop from the bed.

“That’s not what I bought that for,” you say as he pulls the wrapper off, walking back to you.

With one look he silences you and lets you know he doesn’t give a fuck what you bought it for. It’s his now, and so are you. He can do what he likes.

When he’s in front of you again, he pushes the lollipop against your lips. You resist for a moment.

“Do you want to fail my class, y/n?”

Your eyes are on him, but his are on your mouth as you shake your head and drop your jaw. He pushes the lollipop into your mouth, and you close your lips around it. It’s a nice contrast from the salty taste of him lingering there. The cotton candy flavor fills your mouth as he slowly moves it in and out. When he pulls it out, you already know what’s coming next, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

He puts one hand on your stomach, pressing down until you lean back against the mirror. He slides the lollipop down your chin and neck, stopping to circle your nipples, making them sticky then licking them clean. He then lowers it between your legs, pressing it against your center to moisten the tip before sliding it around your folds.

His focus is entirely on what he’s doing; watching intently as he pushes the dick-shaped lollipop into you. You squirm on the dresser, trying to push aside thoughts of what it will take to clean yourself after this. The packaging said it was safe for internal use, but again, this was not what you had in mind for it. When he leans forward and sucks your clit into his mouth, though, you don’t have to try anymore. Your only thoughts are of what you’re going to do without this for a month.

Though, technically, you can receive…right? You’ll have to clarify the rules later.

Chan kisses his way up your stomach, nipping as he gets to your breasts, then full on biting when he’s at your neck. And they’re not soft bites either. You moan loudly, always in depravity when you’re with him. You’re not sure there’s anything he could do to you that you wouldn’t like. And that thought scares you.

The bites at your neck turn into sucks and you lean into it, knowing he’s marking you. He pulls himself away before he can do too much damage, breathing heavily and resting his head on your shoulder as he keeps moving the lollipop in and out of you.

Your hand makes its way beneath his chin to lift his head up and make him look you in the eye. You cup the back of his neck and pull his mouth to yours. You part your lips and your tongue dashes out, seeking his, letting him taste the mixture of himself and the cotton candy flavor. You arch your back until your breasts meet his chest, hardened nipples poking at this skin. He groans into your mouth as you suck on his tongue.

“I want an A, Professor,” you say, pushing him away.

A low growl escapes his mouth as he reclaims your mouth. He withdraws the lollipop from you as he kisses you deeply and messily. His lips and tongue are everywhere, uncontrolled. He grips your hip with one hand, pulling you closer until your center is pressed against his stomach

When he breaks the kiss, he lets out another long, low breath and shakes his head. You want to know so badly what’s he’s thinking. You want him to vocalize how much he wants you. How much he needs you to please him.

He takes a small step back, lollipop still in hand. You watch as he brings it to his mouth, parts his lips and slides it inside. You don’t know why, but it makes you feel better about the whole predicament watching him take the candy phallus into his mouth. You can see him swirling his tongue around it, taking your juices off of it.

He slides you off the dresser to your feet, removing the lollipop from his mouth and placing it on the dresser. He leans down and cups your face, kissing you softly and briefly. He taps you on the ass and nudges you towards the bed.

You crawl on the bed as soon as you reach it and start to turn around. He’s right behind you. His hands land on your hips to hold you in place, keeping you on all fours near the edge of the bed. He’s silent, pressing his cock against you as his hands roam freely up and down your back.

You’re not expecting it, so when he withdraws a hand and delivers a hard smack to your ass you tense up, then moan. The pain he delivers always feels good.

He grips your hips once more and positions himself at your opening, slowly sliding inside of you.

You let your head hang down as you savor the feeling. You missed this. You will continue to miss it if he doesn’t break. He rests in you for a moment, hands still gripping your hips tightly while he’s completely buried in you.

When he pulls out, you brace yourself. He thrusts forward, hard and deep, groaning. You love how vocal he is when he fucks you, too. He doesn’t do feelings, he doesn’t do words, but he makes sounds. He makes it apparent how much he likes the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Arch your back,” he says, moving his hand to the middle of your back and pressing down lightly.

You spread your legs further apart and turn your face on the side to rest your head on the mattress. You arch your back, moaning as the adjusted position allows him to sink deeper into you.

He continues to slowly withdraw then thrust into you quickly, repeating the motion again and again. The cards left on the comforter spill onto the floor as your joint aggression rocks the bed. When you start to move your hips back against him, he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper. He leans forward to reach around your hips and rub your clit. The sound of your thighs connecting to his, yours shared moans, his grunts, fill the quiet room. You fuck him back, panting as you feel your release approaching.

“Professor Bang,” you manage to get out, gripping the sheets, thrusting back against him even harder. “Can I come?”

Roleplay or not, you haven’t forgotten his basic rules.

He chuckles, taking his other hand off your hip to grab your breast, using it for leverage to pull you back on to him.

“I don’t know…” he teases breathlessly, “Can you?”

“May I?” You correct, squeezing your eyes shut as if it will help you hold back.

“You may,” he says, releasing your breast to spank you again.

He keeps rubbing your clit and slapping your ass every few thrusts. The stinging pain combined with the feel of his cock pumping in and out of you reaches its peak. You bite your bottom lip to keep from full on wailing. You bite so hard you break the skin, feeling the taste of copper in your mouth as you try to stifle your moan.

“Chan,” you pant, “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

Your words are breathless as you push back against him with all your might and let your orgasm course through you.

He doesn’t stop his movements until you reach back with your hand, pressing it against his stomach. He slows his thrusts little by little before pulling out of you completely.

The hand holding you up and your thighs shake until they give out. You fall onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. He’s still standing behind you, taking slow, deep breaths. You look over your shoulder to see him stroking his cock. How is he still holding back?

“This is just practice, y/n.” He announces, seeing the look on your face.

Fuck, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

“Do I at least get an ‘A’?” You ask.

“Solid B+,” he says with a smile.

“Fuck you, Professor,” you laugh.

He stops stroking himself, sits on the bed and delivers another smack to your ass.

“Eat,” he commands.

“What about you?” You ask curiously.

“I have two and a half hours left ‘til midnight,” he says. “Eat quick.”

When you wake up Wednesday morning, you’re actually kinda thankful to be getting a break. Chan fucked you, and fucked you, and fucked you some more last night. You didn’t think it would ever end, but you had no complaints at the time. This morning, however, your body is feeling it. Your thighs feels like strangers to one another after spending so much time spread apart, with either his cock or mouth between them.

Later, everyone gathers in the basement and Seungmin unveils two large pieces of paper. The first has each member’s name on it, the second has all the girls’ names and their assigned members. Score boards.

“Anytime a member puts money into the pot or breaks, we will keep track of it here,” Seungmin says.

“And you guys don’t lie or try to cheat?” Allie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“No reason to,” Seungmin says. “It’s just for fun, remember?”

It’s hard for you to imagine they see this as fun. Though perhaps they all just want to strive for the win and feel like an alpha male, beating out their other members.

“Who won last year?” You ask.

The members are silent, looking amongst each other.

“I’ve won the last three years in a row,” says the voice that was moaning and groaning in your ear last night. Your eyes meet with Chan’s and suddenly your heart and aspirations sink. How the fuck are you gonna get him to break then?

a/n: I'm using the 2023 calendar for this so if there's any confusion it's now Wednesday, November 1st in the story. More soon! Likes, reblogs & comments make the tumblr world go 'round <3

[ read chapter thirteen here ]

tag list:

@iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie /@conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland /@hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy /@ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo /@hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt /@fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog/ @yjeonginlvr/ @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo /@skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #bangchan fanfic #bang chan

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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No-paywall version.

"You can never really see the future, only imagine it, then try to make sense of the new world when it arrives.

Just a few years ago, climate projections for this century looked quite apocalyptic, with most scientists warning that continuing “business as usual” would bring the world four or even five degrees Celsius of warming — a change disruptive enough to call forth not only predictions of food crises and heat stress, state conflict and economic strife, but, from some corners, warnings of civilizational collapse and even a sort of human endgame. (Perhaps you’ve had nightmares about each of these and seen premonitions of them in your newsfeed.)

Now, with the world already 1.2 degrees hotter, scientists believe that warming this century will most likely fall between two or three degrees. (A United Nations report released this week ahead of the COP27 climate conference in Sharm el Sheikh, Egypt, confirmed that range.) A little lower is possible, with much more concerted action; a little higher, too, with slower action and bad climate luck. Those numbers may sound abstract, but what they suggest is this: Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders,

we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years.

...Conventional wisdom has dictated that meeting the most ambitious goals of the Paris agreement by limiting warming to 1.5 degrees could allow for some continuing normal, but failing to take rapid action on emissions, and allowing warming above three or even four degrees, spelled doom.

Neither of those futures looks all that likely now, with the most terrifying predictions made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay. The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse.

Over the last several months, I’ve had dozens of conversations — with climate scientists and economists and policymakers, advocates and activists and novelists and philosophers — about that new world and the ways we might conceptualize it. Perhaps the most capacious and galvanizing account is one I heard from Kate Marvel of NASA, a lead chapter author on the fifth National Climate Assessment: “The world will be what we make it.” Personally, I find myself returning to three sets of guideposts, which help map the landscape of possibility.

First, worst-case temperature scenarios that recently seemed plausible now look much less so, which is inarguably good news and, in a time of climate panic and despair, a truly underappreciated sign of genuine and world-shaping progress...

[I cut number two for being focused on negatives. This is a reasons for hope blog.]

Third, humanity retains an enormous amount of control — over just how hot it will get and how much we will do to protect one another through those assaults and disruptions. Acknowledging that truly apocalyptic warming now looks considerably less likely than it did just a few years ago pulls the future out of the realm of myth and returns it to the plane of history: contested, combative, combining suffering and flourishing — though not in equal measure for every group...

“We live in a terrible world, and we live in a wonderful world,” Marvel says. “It’s a terrible world that’s more than a degree Celsius warmer. But also a wonderful world in which we have so many ways to generate electricity that are cheaper and more cost-effective and easier to deploy than I would’ve ever imagined. People are writing credible papers in scientific journals making the case that switching rapidly to renewable energy isn’t a net cost; it will be a net financial benefit,” she says with a head-shake of near-disbelief. “If you had told me five years ago that that would be the case, I would’ve thought, wow, that’s a miracle.”"

-via The New York Times Magazine, October 26, 2022

#climate change #global warming #renewable energy #climate anxiety #climate crisis #humanity #green energy #green future #apocalypse #natural disasters #good news #hope #research #hope posting

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arcane-vagabond · 2 months ago

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Fool's Fare: Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Loss of a parent, Crying, Premonitions, Anxiety, Bermuda Triangle, Insomnia, Running from the law, Near drowning, Near death experience, Sea monster, Cursing, Death, Mentions and brief description of blood, Magic. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.5k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

You had always had a feeling of otherness surrounding you, of that you were sure. You had a knack for predicting weather changes or which ships would come home when others wouldn’t. You had known when your father stepped foot out the door that fateful morning that you would never see him again.

You had chased after him, begging him to stay, to delay his departure. Your hands had gripped the fabric of his trousers as you sank to your knees before him, tears streaking down your face as you babbled and sobbed for him to not leave your side. Your father had crouched down next to you, a gentle hand on your head as you sniffled pathetically.

“What’s the matter,” he asked gently, thumb stroking away the drops of tears that fell from your eyes.

“Something,” you hiccuped, your bottom lip trembling, “something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. Please don’t go, Papa.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” He asked, but something in his voice sounded off. At the time, you hadn’t paid it much mind. You were in hysterics, after all, and that in and of itself was so unlike you. That inner sense of knowing had always kept you cool and collected, warning you away from danger or towards something joyful. Never had you felt that deep sense of foreboding, though. Like your whole world was about to be ripped out from under you at a moment’s notice.

“Everything will be alright, little minnow,” he smiled, blue eyes twinkling in the early morning light. “There’s a sort of magic that courses through your blood, always has been. Even if something happens to me, you’ll be just fine. I promise.”

It had taken Bradley pulling you away for your father to leave, and you watched from the docks as the silhouette of his ship disappeared past the horizon, a sense of foreboding clutching at your heart.

And it had been right, of course.

You had tried to hold on to his words, praying that he was right. Hoping beyond all hope that he would come home.

But he hadn’t.

You remembered how the ocean spray dotted your cheeks, much like how it did now. The Hangman dipped with the waves as you stared out over the rails. You weren’t sure why that memory was on your mind now, the ache still as strong within your chest as it was the day it found a home there, but perhaps it was due to the sense of foreboding that now pulled at the back of your neck, warning of something yet to come.

“We’re nearing the triangle, lads,” a crewman murmured, grizzled face glancing around almost conspiratorially. You paused on your way to the galley, ears perking at his words.

“Aye, and what about it?” Snapped his companion, a surly looking fellow with a dark beard.

“Don’t tell me you’ve not heard o’ the tales of the triangle,” the first man scoffed, giving the bearded fellow a rather unimpressed look. A moment passed as the two stared at one another.

“I thought e’ry good sailor knew about the legends of the sea,” he continued with a shake of his head. He clapped his companion on the shoulder, leaning in as if to tell him a secret. Several other crew members stopped what they were doing to listen in as well.

“The Bermuda Triangle,” the man started, his tone taking on a warning tone, “is home to all sorts o’ monsters and fiend. They say God himself cursed this bit o’ sea, sending all sorts o’ devilish creatures to live here where they mightn’t cause any trouble for the res’.”

“You’re full of shite,” guffawed one man, leaning back so far on his perch, he nearly fell to the deck below. The storyteller scowled at him as several others shook their heads almost knowingly.

“You’re laughin’ now,” the storyteller growled, shaking his finger at the man, “but mark my words, lad: several of ye will be doomed to live out this cursed existence at the bottom of the sea before we see land again.”

Several more men let out a loud chorus of laughter as the crowd began to disperse. The sense of foreboding sat heavy as you turned back towards the underbelly of the ship.

In the galley, Bob was already hard at work making that night’s supper. You slid in easily beside him, chopping away at some carrots as he messed with one of the pots.

“Alright, out with it,” he said after a few minutes. You paused, looking at him in confusion as he fixed you with a rather unamused look.

“What?” You asked, sliding the carrots off to the side as you grabbed for some potatoes. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” he scowled, waving the wooden spoon at you. “You came down here with this look on your face and haven’t said a word to me since. Now what’s got you in such a mood, hm?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, avoiding his keen eyes as you contemplated on how to answer. There truly was no reason for you to be feeling this way. Or at least, nothing new that should. Of course, the rapidly approaching deadline had been near the forefront of your mind for a while, but this was different. This sense of impending doom was more urgent, more…immediate.

You couldn’t tell him that, you just couldn’t. You already felt crazy, you didn’t need word to spread of your premonitions. Really, after everything that had already happened, you didn’t need accusations of witchcraft being thrown at you—not when you were so close to the end.

“The men were just talking about sea monsters, is all,” you lied. Bob scoffed, turning back to stir whatever he had bubbling away in the pot.

“Sea monsters,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “The things they come up with.”

“You don’t think they’re telling the truth?” You pressed, an arch to your brow as you slowly went back to cutting up the potatoes.

“I’d believe it more if they actually told the truth once in a while,” he snorted back at you.

“You’re the cook on a cursed ship where all but two of the crew members don’t even need to eat,” you hummed, “and you’re questioning the existence of sea monsters?”

There was a brief pause as Bob mulled over your words.

“Hurry up with the potatoes,” he grumbled, and you did your best to hide your smirk.

The evening passed much like any other, but still a feeling kept nagging at you, and the more time went on, the stronger it became. You laid in your bed that night, the rest of the crew having retreated for some shut eye as well. Only the watchman and the helmsman stayed awake, and though you tried, not even the slow, rhythmic rocking of the Hangman could lure you to sleep. Natasha snored quietly on the other side of the room, and you envied her in that moment. You tossed and turned helplessly as you willed yourself to get at least a few hours of sleep.

You finally gave up as the telltale signs of dawn crept through the window of your cabin, casting a faint, blue glow across the wood. You let out a heavy, tired sigh as you slowly sat up. The air was cool around you, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your back. Natasha shifted on her bed, rolling over as you paused and waited for her to settle once more. After a moment’s hesitation, you slowly slipped out of bed and padded towards your chest, lifting the lid to reveal your meager belongings. You changed quickly, shooting glances at Natasha’s sleeping figure every so often to make sure you hadn’t woken her up. Your boots tapped against the floor as you padded towards the door, careful to keep the old wood from creaking as you slipped out.

Clouds covered the sky, a mist clinging to the air around you as you sucked in a lungful of briny, sea air. You peered behind you, smiling softly at the helmsman, Daniel, as he nodded your way.

Waves crashed against the hull, a familiar sound that brought you some sense of relief, no matter how small it may be. You walked towards the edge of the ship, grabbing on to one of the ropes as you leaned over the railing. The water below churned into white sea foam, the spray flying up to meet your cheek. The murky depths gave no hint as to what may lurk beneath, but the feeling within you pulsed ominously.

“Must be somewhere off the coast of Florida by now.”

You startled, head twisting to take in the sight of Jake just a few feet behind you. The wind whipped around you, twisting through your hair and obscuring your vision for a brief moment before you pushed it back.

“Are we?” you asked, turning back with a squint towards the water, as if it would help confirm what he told you. The wood echoed beneath his boots as he walked towards you, pausing just behind as the waves crashed against the hull.

“I’d expect so,” he replied, squinting his eyes at the horizon, as if the answer lay somewhere just out of sight. “If we aren’t, then we should be soon.”

You hummed, the silence between you stretching from moments to seconds to minutes. Jake cleared his throat, shifting closer to you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, his gaze trained on you, and a slight shiver ran up your spine.

“What’s wrong?”

You glanced at him, a frown pulling on your lips at his question. His face was serious, lips pressed tightly together, a crease of worry on his brow as he studied you. You shook your head, turning away from him. How could you explain this feeling within you? How could you explain to him this sense of dread and foreboding that curdled in your stomach, urging you to run, to get away. Your lips parted like you wanted to answer, but no sound came out. Instead, you let out a frustrated sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you contemplated how to explain.

“I don’t know,” you settled on finally, eyes shifting from the rolling waves to the hard wood underneath your feet. The air around you felt charged, like it did during a thunderstorm. The waves seemed to grow quiet as a heavy feeling dripped through your ribs to clutch at your heart.

Another pulse ripped through you, your breath catching in your throat. Several of the crew members were making their way up to the deck now, laughing and shouting orders at one another. You looked around wildly, your heart hammering in your chest much like it had on the siren’s isle.

“Something’s not right.” Your voice sounded small even to you. Jake watched with worry at his brow as you pushed off of the railing, pushing past a pair of crew members as you searched wildly for what, you weren’t sure. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to hide, to do something.

“Sail ho!”

You looked skyward as the lookout above signaled towards the horizon. Jake cursed under his breath, already taking off in search of Javy. You peered towards the sea. Sure enough, you could just make out the distinct sight of white sails billowing in your direction. You searched for Jake, spying him on the top deck next to Javy, a telescope to his eye as he peered at the sails.

“It’s a hulk,” he spat, lowering the scope and shoving it back towards Javy. “Flying the Union Jack. Ready the sails and make haste! We’re going to outrun those redcoats.”

The crew began running around the ship, readying the sails and tying knots as they went. You moved to help them, stopping short as another pulse shot through you, stilling you instantly.

“Guppy!”

Bradley grabbed you by the arm, shaking you momentarily from your stupor.

“Bradley?” You questioned, unsure of yourself in that moment. He pursed his lips as he gave you a once over, pulling on your arm and leading you across the deck.

“Come on,” he ground out, letting go of your arm momentarily to tie a rope off on the mast. “Don’t just stand around, help!”

You blinked at him, the familiar sense of panic crawling its way under your skin and towards your chest.

“Bradley, I-”

“What are you waiting for?” He asked, a frown on his face as he turned to look at you. Confusion and irritation marred his face, and you swallowed thickly.

Before you could answer, a gust of wind burst across the deck, nearly knocking you over. Bradley grabbed onto you, steadying you on your feet as the ship rocked dangerously in the sudden onslaught of waves.

“What in the hell,” Bradley cursed, watching as various other crew members also stumbled and struggled to stay upright. Droplets started to rain down, soon becoming a downpour as thunder roared above you.

“Where did this storm come from?” He shouted.

“Guppy!”

You turned to see Jake scrambling towards you, shoving a couple of his men to the side in order to get to you quicker. His green eyes flashed with near panic as he slid to a stop in front of you.

“You need to get inside!” He shouted, voice barely audible over the roar of the waves and shouts of the other men. His hand landed on your bicep, turning to tug you towards the cabins. Before he could even take a step, a shadow fell over you, and you turned just in time to see a monstrous wave towering over the masts of the Hangman. Your eyes rounded in horror as shrieks of panic permeated the air.

“Watch out!” A man cried just as the wave began its decent. You sucked in a sharp breath as the water crashed down onto the decks with a deafening roar. You had no time to grab onto anything as the water slammed into you, knocking Jake’s hand loose as you were sent careening back. Your back hit the wall of the railing, knocking the air from your lungs only for it to be replaced with a mouthful of seawater.

The water quickly rescinded, leaving you choking and gasping for air. Your throat burned from the saltwater, your eyes stinging as you fought to focus your eyesight. Your head swam with fogginess caused by the force of the wave and your head bouncing off the wood. Your hand came up to cradle your forehead, willing the pulsing to stop so you could get your bearings. You were vaguely aware fo the chaos that surrounded you, the pulses of pain giving way to something more sinister. All at once the world became to intense—the waves too loud, the flashes of lightning too bright. The sensations began to grow stronger, your breaths coming out in pants as your heart began to hammer away in your chest.

Something was wrong…but what?

Hands grabbed you, hauling you up and to the side just as another wave crashed into the ship from behind you. You landed on the deck with a grunt, the blow of your landing only softened by the person underneath you. You tore your eyes open, looking up to see Jake already watching you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice a deep timbre as he helped you up to a sitting position.

“I-” Before you could answer, a shrill roar like the sound of breaking class pierced the air, chilling your blood in your veins and causing your heart to stop. You scrambled to your feet, Jake not far behind you as your attention turned towards the dark waters surrounding you. That heavy feeling of dread filled you once more as movement rippled beneath the surface. The air was unsettlingly silent, pulling at your throat and squeezing it tight. The storm had calmed some, but rain still fell down onto the deck, drenching you down to the bone.

More movement caught your eye, something circling the boat, and you watched as slowly, the waves parted. Scales flickered in the light peeking through the grey clouds, causing a rippling effect along the greenish blue scales of the serpent. It was easily bigger than the whole ship, towering above the masts as it stared down with hungry, vicious eyes. Its jaw opened to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth, a horrible hissing noise leaving its maw as its body moved from side to side with the waves.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, terror striking through you at the sight. Several men shouted warnings just before the serpent came crashing down towards the deck. A splintering crack resounded in the air, drawing your attention to one of the masts, broken and hurtling towards the deck from the serpent’s strike. You had little time to react, only managing to dodge out of the way as the wood hit the deck, the vibrations of the impact rattling your teeth. A whizzing sound caught your attention, and you looked down just as the rope pulled tight around your ankle, dragging you back towards the railing.

You scrambled for the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh, unsheathing it and working furiously to sever the rope before it pulled you overboard. The threads released you with a snap, and you watched as the rope slithered over the railing and down into the depths below.

The serpent gave another mighty roar before once again diving towards the deck, the screams of men cutting short as the monster sank its fangs into flesh, dragging their wriggling bodies into its gullet. The sound of a familiar cry rang out in your ears, and you turned to see Mickey laying on his back, hands grasping desperately at his right leg. His teeth clenched tightly as blood poured from the wound, and a chill ran through you.

“Mickey!” You cried out, scrambling to your feet. Your boots thudded against the wood beneath you, but you only got a couple of feet before another ominous pulse shot through you, stopping you in your tracks.

The world seemed to grow still once more as the noise around you gave way to a high-pitched ringing in your ears, your breath coming out in slow, labored breaths as the feeling inside of you compelled you to turn. Slowly, you turned on the balls of your feet, facing the railing where your eyes met golden, snake-like irises. Blood dripped from the jaws of the serpent as a low, hissing noise escaped from its throat, the smell of death hot on its breath. You were vaguely aware of your name being shouted from behind you, too focused on the beast that stared you down. It made no move to strike at you, it simply continued to stare as if observing you. An energy hummed between the two of you, a feeling you could almost describe as familiarity passing between the two of you. It leaned forward slightly, nostrils flaring as it gave you a curious sniff, its exhale blowing over you as it let out a low growl. It blinked at you slowly before retreating with a hiss.

The sounds of shouting off in the distance drew your attention away from the monster and towards the water beyond where the British ship was drawing closer. The serpent’s head snapped back to look at the new ship, a low growl rumbling in its throat as it sank into the dark waters surrounding it. You let out a shaky exhale just as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you into a wall of solid muscle. A second body joined in, wrapping arms around you from behind.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley breathed from behind. “You scared me half to death.”

You didn’t say anything in response, too shaken up by your experience. Why had the serpent stopped? What had passed between the two of you? You were only pulled away from your thoughts by the shaking of the chest you were pressed into.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look up into Jake’s face. You were met with a look of terror mixed with relief as he held you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, stopping only as the terrified screams of the British crew echoed through the air. You turned in Jake and Bradley’s arms to see the serpent beginning a new hunt, its meal easy pickings as it managed to tip the British naval ship on its side. Your hands tightened in Jake’s shirt as the sea beast let out a triumphant roar, lightning cracking overhead as rain began to pour down.

“Come on,” Jake murmured, releasing you slowly and turning to what remained of the crew. “We need to get to land.”

A/N: And thus marks the end of my hiatus! I'm still working on some other updates, but hopefully I'll be a little more motivated to write now that I'll be on the road a fair bit again. Thank you so much for all your patience. I'm hoping that I'll be able to get more updates out to you guys soon, but please bear with me!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

#fool's fare #ff #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago

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HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month.

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled.

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask.

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers.

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows.

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly.

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?”

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him?

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended.

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.”

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?”

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says.

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three.

“But we don’t have much of a choice.”

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?”

His eyes are wide, looking up at you.

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane.

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat.

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!”

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!”

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy.

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his.

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin.

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung.

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric.

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat.

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning?

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence.

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!”

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!”

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open.

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second.

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#park jay x reader #jay park x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #park jongseong x reader #jay x reader #txt x reader #enhypen scenarios #txt scenarios #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #lee heeseung x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sim jaeyun x reader

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notthefirstfallenangel · 1 year ago

Text

Memories IV

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, amnesia

Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.

“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.

Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.

You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.

He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.

You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.

“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.

After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.

Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.

The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.

As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.

You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.

“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.

Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”

You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.

Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”

But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.

With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.

You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.

He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.

You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.

“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.

“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.

But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.

Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.

“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”

Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.

Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.

You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.

Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.

As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.

When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, not now,”

Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”

You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.

Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.

As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.

You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.

The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.

And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.

You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.

This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.

Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.

He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.

You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.

After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.

“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”

Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”

Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”

“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.

You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.

Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.

Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.

You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.

“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.

You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.

Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.

Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.

Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.

You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.

You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.

You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.

Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.

You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.

You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.

You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.

Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.

“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.

You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.

“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”

Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.

“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.

“You want to-?”

“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.

He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.

“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.

You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.

You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.

“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”

He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.

The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.

“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.

The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.

Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.

“Soap?”

Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie @originaldeerhottub @cr4shposts @caramlizedtomatoes @ilovehyperfixating @ghostlythots @dotcie

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peoniesnro · 2 months ago

Text

In Another Universe

#8. The Burning Pit of Fire

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/SMUT- Making out/ Dirty talks/ Very brief Oral (F.Receiving)/ Brief breast play/ Protected sex/ Missionary/ Doggy/ Word 'slut' and 'whore'/ Angst / INFIDELITY

Word count- 16k+

a/n- I apologize for the delay in updating—life has been a bit overwhelming and hectic lately. I’m doing my best to bring you new chapters as quickly as I can. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you’ll enjoy this one!❤️

Taglist?

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

“Are you fucking kidding me bitch? What do you take me for? A fucking joke?” Key puts her coffee cup on the dirty table in your booth. Harshly. And loudly. Three students next to your booth look at you with judgmental looks on their faces. You hush your best friend with furrowed brows.

“Yah! Don’t cause drama here.” You put your own coffee cup down the table as well.

“Drama? Fucking drama?” She scoffs. Looking away from you for a second before looking back at you. Bewildered. “For fuck’s sake…. You just told me the most fucking insane story I’ve ever heard, and you want me to act calm. No, fucking scratch that, do you expect me to fucking believe you?” Key nearly laughs. Picks up her coffee to down the remaining in one go. Places the cup back again before pointing a finger at you. “Well, guess what my friend? If you want to come up with stupid lies and if you have things to hide, come prepared.” Almost gets to her feet but you prevent that with a loud ‘fuck you’.

You’re beyond frustrated at this point. Just at the moment you figured out a way to have the most possible way of living a normal life, it all started to come crashing down. Just like that. You’re still heartbroken after your last conversation with Park Jimin. It still pangs to think that he asked you not to ‘ruin his life’.

Fucking bastard.

He came onto you like a horny teenager first. Acted like he was a dumb pervert who thinks with his dick while forcing your mouth on his dick. And asked you to leave quietly? Like you’re a match struck in the darkness. Brightened his world for a moment and then tossed away when you’re no longer needed. You’ve never felt this used before.

To add a little more frustration and pressure to your current problems, there came your best friend. Maybe it’s not just your best friend but the whole ordeal. The fact that she didn’t recognize you for a moment this morning adds a whole lot of weight to your current burden. Oh, how scared you were. To stand in front of her near your lecture room. Crowding the entrance while she just gaped at you. Tilting her head to the side and thinking hard about who you were. It was only for a fractured second, but in that second, blood drained out of you. Your heart sank down. Cold beads of sweat started to form in your skin, and you felt an unexplainable fear. And then she had recognized you when you mumbled her name with a cracked voice. Making you breathe out a sigh of relief. Not for long though. That relief didn’t have much lasting impact. It was stolen from you when your best friend had started to freak out. Fair though.

What’s the possible explanation of forgetting someone who’s been a part of your life for so long?

See, you could’ve easily manipulated her to believe that it’s her fault. But you’ve already messed up so much. You didn’t need any more guilt. Besides she had firsthand witnessed how you started calling your family like a lunatic. And explaining that you were their daughter. Younger sister. There was no explanation except the truth.

So, here you are glaring at your best friend who obviously wants nothing but to leave. Here you are daring her to leave if she can, without words. Here you both are participating in a staring contest while the other students gaping at you.

“Fuck.” Key gives in first.

“Fuck indeed. So, what? You’re going to leave like that?” You ask.

“What do you expect me to do then? Believe you?” She counters back. You’re running out of patience. Well, of course you know what you’re saying is unbelievable. Even Jimin who experienced this mess with you from the very first moment didn’t believe you. Not that easily. Now though, you don’t have the energy to fight for your arguments. You just want her to believe you blindly.

“Yes. I want you to believe me Key, because what would I get from lying to you?” You stop glaring at her. Shoulders slumping down as you sigh heavily. Eyes closed as you pray for the strength to keep going. Key interrupts you before you can continue.

“How? How am I supposed to believe some bullshit about two worlds and what? You’ve been travelling there like every other day? And that happens every time you sleep? Do you even hear yourself?” She rants. You groan.

“Listen Key…. I know… gosh of fucking course I know. I know I sound ridiculous.”

“You sound fucking insane.”

“I know, I know all right? But that’s the fucking truth. I don’t know how to prove it to you but that’s what has been happening to me. You know, when you asked me why I go MIA, why I keep missing my lectures and due dates, why I look so tired and shit, it’s all because of this.” You try to keep calm. It won’t take you anywhere to act like she is your enemy. Because she isn’t. Key shakes her head slowly. Still in very much disbelief. Maybe offended even.

“So, let me guess… that fucking stupid letter…. Your fucking fatigue thing? They were all lies, weren’t they?” She leans forward. You were wrong to think she looks offended. No, she looks hurt. Betrayed. Well, fuck!

“Yes,” You admit. Feeling extremely guilty. Nibble on your bottom lip for a moment. “But I had no other option, I didn’t know what else to tell─” You start explaining yourself when she stops you with another scoff.

“What else to tell? You should have told me the truth. What, am I that untrustworthy, that you couldn’t share your prob─” It’s your turn to stop Key.

“That’s not that shit Key. It’s not about a fucking trust… it’s because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Look at you. You don’t believe me, do you? I didn’t tell you because I fucking knew this is how you’re going to act.” That really got Key closing her mouth shut. And for the first time since you start this conversation, she starts to look guilty as much as you do.

“Okay, yeah, I don’t believe you but… like how can I? How am I gonna believe such a stupid story?” She resonates. You sigh again as you just stare at her. Thinking of words or reasons to make her believe you. Only to find you have none. Words aren’t believable. Words aren’t enough. But maybe solid proof will be enough. Just like the time you took the same approach with Park Jimin.

“Well, think about all the times I acted odd and maybe try to connect the dots. And I have something I can show you. Let’s go to my place.” You stand up. Ignore Key’s stuttering. Just start walking out of this café with one goal in mind. After all, you thank Park Jimin for buying you a phone. And for the party where you just snapped hundreds of pictures without knowing how handy they’ll be in the future.

……………………………………

A sudden jolt wakes you up. A soft groan escapes your lips as you close your eyes again, then open them slowly. Letting your brain register that you were just sleeping, not dead. Reminding you that you’re not in your apartment. Which is no longer a shock nor scary. You fully expect it to happen this way. You’re used to it. That, however, doesn’t stop you from snapping your head to Jimin’s side. Finding him peacefully still asleep next to you. On his tummy, cheek flushed against the soft pillows. One hand draping over your stomach.

Oh, great! Just fucking great

On another day, where he hadn’t hurt your feelings that way, this might have been a nice morning. A morning where your heart would try to leap away from your ribcage. Where you would get that uncontrollable urge to smooch his lips which are pouty as he presses his cheek into the pillow. Today, however, what you feel is a new wave of bitterness. Paired with a heavy heart. And a lingering anger. You feel humiliated. To think that he just discarded you like that. You want to get away from him as fast as possible. You want to act like he doesn’t exist. Act like he doesn’t matter the same way that you don’t matter to him. Like you’re not hurt at least a bit. Your ego is what speaking when you take another minute before deciding you need to put him in his place. You shrug his hand off your stomach with inconceivable speed. Your movements are so harsh that it makes Jimin awaken with a startle. A whimper escapes his mouth. His droopy eyes closing back instantly to avoid the ache of looking at light suddenly.

Great!!! Now you feel like a narcissistic bitch. A fucking asshole.

Jimin looks like an innocent cat. So out of this cruel world. Certainly not deserving such harsh treatments. No. Nope. He does. He fucking does. He asked you to leave quietly after using you to satisfy his horny desires. He treated you like a worthless slut. He deserves a slap across his face.

“I absolutely don’t fucking need your hands over me Park.” You hiss before getting out of bed at blistering speed.

“What?” Jimin raises his head. Asks groggily. His hair sticking out funnily. Looking at you with his eyes still half closed. You don’t intend on answering his questions. You’re not obligated to do so after all. Hence, your silent departure from the room. Not even minding the next ‘what?’ he throws at your retreating back.

See, you promised yourself that you’re going to show your middle finger to him when you leave.

…………………………………..

On your normal days, you use his kitchen like it’s your own. Floundering around and making breakfast. For both of you. You don’t do that on this day, however. Jimin loudly reminded you that you’re indeed no one. That this is not your place. How stupid of you to get so comfortable around him. Fuck, you need to slap yourself. Yes, Jimin deserves a slap, but you deserve two. For being a stupid and desperate bitch.

You just sit there on the kitchen island. Both of your legs are bouncing up and down fast. Your thumb is trapped between your front teeth. For a fact, you know this is going to get awkward. It’s always uncomfortable to face someone after a fight. Even though it wasn’t really a fight you had with Jimin, it’s still very uncomfortable. You don’t know how to act. Feel helpless. Gosh you’re stuck with him here despite how much you want to escape. He’s the one who fed you while you were here. Bought you a phone. Made you stay safe. And everything else. Come to think of it, you’re in fucking debt. And that worsens the situation. God, how frustrating to be dependent on him. True, it was your deal for him to help you find a job. It’s no longer an option. First, you can’t ask Jimin to help. Second, even if you find a job there would be no way you’ll earn something enough to pay him. You should never have allowed him to buy you stuff. Should’ve starved to death.

The sound of approaching footsteps is what snaps you out of your reverie. You have to bite back the annoying groan that is about to leave your mouth. What did you do in your past life that you’ve to put up with this? Why don’t you have an escape?

You stay very still. Not wanting to look at him. But your attempts come in vain when he walks to the refrigerator, which is right in front of you. He’s in sweats and white T like always. Hair still wild and he makes it worse by running his fingers through it. Looks fine in a godly way. How annoying.

“Did you eat anything?” Jimin’s sudden voice make you whip your head away. He isn’t looking at you. Is asking that while rummaging through his refrigerator, where he stupidly keeps instant ramen. See, so fucking annoying.

“Why the fuck would you care?” You ask back. Burning holes in his back. Jimin straightens up at your question. Turns around. Is burning holes back into your face. Takes a moment before sighing while tilting his head slightly.

“Lil─” He starts to say. And you snap.

“Don’t fucking Lil me. Just don’t. We’re not that close for you to give me nicknames, are we? You were fucking loud and clear when you told me I’m no one but a stand-in for your girlfriend. And I really understand that you don’t want me to ruin your life. So, that’s what I’m doing right now. I’ll make sure I don’t ruin your life for the remaining week- no it’s not just a week- it’s just three days─” You take a deep breath before continuing. “─ for the remaining three days.” The last words leave your mouth as a hiss. Due to how hard you’re grinding your teeth. “So, let me be that way, Park.” The anger you feel is enough to crush this entire apartment down to dust. Still, even with that you don’t feel any satisfaction after you throw those words at him. If anything, you can feel that lump in your throat once again. Well, that’s your cue to leave this scene. Jimin doesn’t let you, however.

“That’s not what I meant, Lil. You were the one who said you wanted to tell my fucking friends that you’re not Liya.” Jimin steps away from the fridge. Leaves the door open and walks forward to stand across from you. On the other side of the counter. His expression is stern. “I only asked you not to do just that.” Jimin grits his teeth too. You scoff. Very bitterly.

“Of fucking course, it’s my fault now─”

“I never fucking said it’s your fault. Stop making this shit bigger than it really is.”

“Then what are you saying, Jimin? What exactly are you saying? I fucking know I’m equally at fault for what happened between us and I’m fully aware it was for one day. So, listen, Mr. Park Jimin, I didn’t expect anything more either. I. FUCKING. DID. NOT. Do you hear me?” You scream this time. Get to your feet, feeling your eyes begin to sting. Your vision blurs.

“Then why did you want to tell them? What’s your fucking purpose?” Jimin rounds the kitchen island as he asks that. Standing tall before you. Well, you don’t know the answer to that. Don’t think that everything has a reason. Hell, you might’ve not told his friends the truth in the end. It was just a suggestion.

“I don’t know, Jimin. Maybe because I’m a person. Maybe because I’m not a fleshlight you can use or a fucking robot at your service. Maybe because I, seek self-worth like any other person. Good job Park. Good fucking job, making me feel like a useless, pathetic slut.” You throw your head up to keep the tears inside your eyes. “I thought we were fucking friends.” Oh, how much you hate the way your voice cracks. And the way Jimin’s face contorts into something painful from the anger. Feel like he is pitying you. That’s not what you want.

“Gosh, fuck. Listen I- I... uh...” Jimin rubs his face frustratingly. Stuttering over his words. You have no idea what he is trying to say. Not that you care either. You want to escape. He makes you want to cry. Your heart is aching. At least you expected him to apologize. But all he does is make it worse. You want to stop him by doing so. Don’t want to leave while hating his guts despite everything. So, you’re glad when your phone suddenly vibrates, interrupting you. You and Jimin both snap your head towards where your phone is. On the countertop. Screen has lit up and the caller ID reads, ‘Kookie’.

You catch the way Jimin furrows deeply for a brief moment before you pick up the phone from the counter. Answering the call and pressing the cold surface of the phone into your cheek. Clear your throat.

“H-Hello?” You will yourself not to sound annoyed or sad.

“Noona? Gosh, why couldn’t I reach you? I tried so many times.” Jungkook bellows from the other side. Well, he probably couldn’t because you were not in the coverage area. You don’t wish to tell him now though. Instead, you just ask him why. Throwing another swift glance at Jimin. He is still furrowing his brows, clearly disliking the interruption.

“Ah, I was just worried you know? Or maybe just dying in curiosity like fuck, Noona, I feel like I dreamt, and I wanted to make sure it was real…” Poor Jungkook is obviously very oblivious to the mood you’re in. Not that you can blame him. Under very different context you would’ve laughed at his small joke. Make fun of it. Not now. Not when you’re hurt. When you still feel the burning gaze of Park Jimin on your face. But you force a chuckle.

“Very real, unfortunately.” Mumble. Jungkook chuckles on the other side and you know his one is very genuine.

“Yeah? Then if I can remember correctly, you promised me an explanation… I mean... if you still want to. It’s not like you’re obligated, but I’m still fucking dying of curiosity.” You can hear some ruffling on his side. It’s impressive how he’s not losing his shit right now. If you were him, you might’ve had a stroke after hearing all that and then seeing someone just vanish in front of your bare eyes. Jungkook really is a one of a kind. It seems. And when you said you’d explain, you meant it. The thing is though, you’re not in a mood to do so. Maybe you should ask him to do it another day, but before you can, he speaks again.

“We can meet if you’re free. Where are you? I can pick you up.” Jungkook sounds hesitant when he says that. He’s sweet. But this is not the time. Right? This is not the time unless you’re desperately looking for an escape. Of fucking course─ here’s the escape you’ve been looking for. Jungkook is your guardian angel. And then maybe he could help you find enough money to pay Park Jimin back. You’d do that even if it meant selling your kidney.

You look at Jimin once again. Take a moment. Force yourself to smile. “Of course, Kookie, I can. I mean I’m always free─ not like I have anything to do. Like I don’t really matter at this moment, ─” Keep your eyes on Jimin. Unwavering.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m free, that’s what I mean. I’m at Jimin’s─ I’ll send you the location, pick me up.” You state while you can actually hear Jungkook’s excitement. He says something about being there within ten minutes, even though you haven’t sent him the address yet. He says some more but his voice is annoyingly drowned out when Jimin suddenly grabs your wrist. Nearly yanking the phone away from your ear. You don’t let him. With a glare at Jimin you mutter a ‘bye’ to Jungkook. Hang up the call. Eyes never stop glaring at the man in front of you.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Jimin yells the moment the call has been disconnected. His fingers still tightly wrapped around your delicate wrist. You wrench free your hand. Harshly as you could.

“What the fuck does it have to do with you?” You nearly turn around to leave when you’re trapped in his grip again.

“Fucking answer me, Lil… Where the hell are you going?” Jimin shouts in your ear. His grip is so harsh that it pains you. You grit your teeth as you try to free your hand again. Twisting. You’re not able to do so this time. If anything, he tightens the grip even more.

“None… of- your con─ cerns… Park Jimin. Let me fucking go….” You manage through your clenched teeth.

“Not till you fucking tell me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know─ you fucking saw who called me. Get your damn hands away from me, Park. Fucking let me go.” You seethe. Clenching your teeth so hard that they ache. “I don’t want you to touch me.” You sound desperate. Trying one more time to free your hand. This time, it works. Not because you’re the Wonder Woman, but because he lets go. Jimin’s entire expression morphs into a pain from anger this time. As though you hurt him. Well, you didn’t. It’s not like he cares for real anyway. Just using you again because he isn’t on good terms with Jungkook. Not your problem anymore. Jimin doesn’t say anything else. Nor do you wait to hear if he does. You just spin around and leave. Without another single word.

……………………………………..

It’s really exhausting and frustrating to recite the same story repeatedly. After Key wanted to hear the same thing from A to Z for ten fucking times, now you’re ready to faint after explaining it for the eleventh. This time, however, the listener is much more bearable. Out of only three people who know the truth, Jungkook is the easiest to convince. Or he was already convinced. All you had to do was tell him how it happened. And he, unlike some people, just accepted what you said. Key was the most difficult. Even after using the same approach, you did with Park Jimin, she was adamant you’d lost your mind. Hell, she even promised you that she’ll find those people in your photographs. And a phone of the same brand. Well, you wished her good luck.

“Holy fuck!” Jungkook exclaims once you stop talking. Telling him everything – or the things that can be said- up to where you and him both met that woman.

“Right?” You agree with him.

“I feel so special right now.” Jungkook mutters dreamily. “To know such thing and fuck, Noona, I know an alien. You’re a fucking alien.” He gasps as he looks at you with wide eyes. As if he’s inspecting to see something different from humans. Then shakes his head in disbelief. Reaches a hand to your head. Starts touching your head with furrowed brows.

“Okay, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask while trying to dodge his touches. Jungkook snorts. Amused for a reason you can’t fathom. “What?” So, you question again.

“Nothing. Just checking if you have antennas.” He states causally, making you whine and swat his hand away.

“Too bad dude. I don’t have antennas, nor do I have any special powers. Just a human girl like you. And yah! don’t call me Noona anymore, I’m younger than you.” You remind him. Jungkook just clicks his tongue. Dismissing your demand.

“I like Noona better. Let’s make that your name.” You are about to protest when he disrupts you with another question. “So, beside Jimin, am I the only person who knows?” He inquires. Picking up the cup of coffee, now probably ice cold. Takes a sip. Contorts his expression into pure disgust. Starts scanning the small café where you’re in. Presumably searching for a barista to ask for a second cup. You shake your head making sure he notices that.

“No, my best friend knows. I told you about her, Key. But then you’re the only one who knows beside Jimin in this world.”

Jungkook nods in understanding but doesn’t get to ask anything else when the searched barista reaches your table. “You need another one too Noona?” He asks instead, to which you shake your head again. Despite you having an escape. Despite Jungkook being an exceptionally good companion. Despite this little café feels like a cozy dwarf house. You’re still not in the mood to enjoy anything. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve talked until now. Or if you’ve smiled and snorted here and there. You’re still very heartbroken. Can still taste the bitterness of your own words on your tongue. Can feel the piercing pang in your heart.

Why the hell do you feel this hurt? Why do you feel so lonely? You’re not supposed to. Why are you hoping Jimin will barge in here like the time he did that day. The day you sat under the Gingko tree. Just wishful thinking. How ridiculous? Now why he would do that? He wants you to leave quietly after all. Besides, it’s been hours since you’re here with Jungkook. Jimin isn’t coming. Fuck him.

“So, did she believe you?” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the earth. Saves you from piercing pain in your chest.

“No, not really.” You give a simple answer. He nods again. He nods a lot. A beat of silence falls while Jungkook waits for his coffee. It arrives fast. Making the boy next to you giddy. He takes the cup from both of his hands. Bowing to the cute barista repeatedly. See, if you weren’t so drained, you might’ve snorted at that. You watch as he takes a sip from the hot coffee. Hums in delight. Using the cup to warm his hands. And then his attention is back on you. Not asking anything right away but just curiously staring. His keen eyes piercing through you. Like he’s trying to read you. You’re just about to ask him ‘what now?’, when he beats you to it.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook puts the cup back on the table. Momentarily drawing your gaze before you look back at his face.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay Noona? You don’t look like you’re okay. Are you sick? Is that because we smoked that day outside? It was quite cold…” Jungkook ponders. You chuckles. Yet again a forced one. You wonder if you’re really that obvious or Jungkook is just that observant. Decide it’s the latter in the end.

“Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” You chuckles again. Looking away through the window. Avoiding those keen eyes.

“Maybe because you’re sad that you’re leaving?” Jungkook can be really annoying with his questions sometimes. You turn to him again, waving your hand in the air.

“Hah, that’s the most hilarious thing you’ve ever said. I was literally dying to find a way to stop─”

“You and Jimin weren’t just acting right? You two… uh… I mean you kissed like… I don’t know, like you were starving. So, I’m guessing there’s more?” Jungkook interrupts your ranting so rudely. But it’s not the interruption that got you wide eyes and open mouth. It’s the words. Fucking hell, he’s so observant. You gulp harshly, getting ready to deny his accusations, when he starts again. “Sorry for saying it like this but you... uh... did you cheat on real Liya? And fuck, are you in love─”

“Fucking NO… of fucking course no. Are you crazy? What makes you even think I’m in love with that asshole?” You really couldn’t bear to listen to him complete that sentence. Unbelievable.

“What about the first part? You said no to being in love with him, but what about the cheating part?” Jungkook asks softly. Making you shut your mouth tight. Oh, how hard this is. You knew it would be embarrassing and humiliating to be confronted about such matters. But this? This is exceeding your expectations in a scary way. You can’t even look Jungkook in the eye. Guit and shame burning you up. Hell, you can’t even bring yourself to defend. Even your eyes are beginning to sting. You want to run away. Well, who else is to blame but your stupid self. You dug this pit of shame for yourself. There’s nothing you can say or do but to downcast your eyes. Avoid his pitch-black ones.

This is fine. He can judge you. All he wants. It’s not like you’ll be here to endure those judgments for long anyway. You brace yourself to hear him saying how much of a lying and shameless bitch you are. Only for your eyes to go wide again. This time in surprise though. Jungkook wraps his hand around your shoulders. Bringing you pressed to his side in one swift moment. Gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay Noona, I’m not judging. I just asked. I’m pretty sure I’ve done far worst shit than that─” Jungkook quietly laughs. Body rumbling. “─ gosh it’s so fucked up. Once I fucked this woman knowing very well, she was married with kids. I couldn’t care less. Was so fucking horny.” That got you snapping your eyes to him. Not judging. No. Just curios. “Fucked up, aren’t I? And I fucked her couple times after as well.” He asks you with a second squeeze. You’re curious like a cat now.

“Then what? Are you like um… are you still….”

“No, No. I stopped that shit when J found out. She found out pretty soon to be honest. And ripped my ear off.” His free hand reaches to his ear to rub it. As he could still feel the pain. A ghost of a smile dances on your lips. “It’s not like I’m into married woman or something you know. It just happened and then I stopped. You don’t have to feel so shitty Noona. People always fucking up and if anything, Jimin should feel double fucked.” He justifies the situation. You know what he’s trying to do. But then it’s not exactly the same. Is it? You want to tell him that. Your mouth feel dry, however. How can you tell him when you don’t know for yourself?

You nod your head anyway. Let Jungkook know you understand. So, he gives you some more reassuring words. Justifies the situation to the best he can. Changes the topic subtly to the ways you’re going to make this work. Obviously, you still have no idea what you’re supposed to do after five days. Either way, you feel glad that he changes the subject. Glad that you at least have him here to talk to. Feel less lonely. Your little chit chat flows through. Making you regain your composure. Act normal.

Funny, how you never paid this much attention to the muscular ‘bunny’ beside you. Who’s now talking animatedly about a sci-fi he watched about parallel universes. Applying the same theories to your situation. Funny, how he is so nice to you, even when he thought you were Liya. Funny, how you only now realize that this man will be the one who you will miss the most after Jimin. Funny, how he is the only one who will miss you for who you are. Since he only ever knew you. Never knew Liya. There are few other people who probably haven’t met real Liya yet either. But Jungkook is the only one who knows you. And to know that you feel at ease. Feel touched. See, you’re a human just like you told Jimin. Maybe deep down you wish you found something in this world. Connections. Relationships. Friends. People to miss.

Of course you’ll miss everyone. Even Seoyeon. Even Hoseok. Then, oh, you will definitely miss Jungkook. You will. So, you let him know. Interrupting his interesting explanation.

“I’ll miss you.”

Jungkook’s head snaps toward you. His words fade as he takes you in. “Yeah?” Mumbles. After silently staring at you for more than a second. You stare back and then nod. “Me too─” He puts his hands on yours. “─I’ll miss you too.” Voice turns so soft. That cheesy, sheepish grin adorning his lips. Makes you smile.

“How come? You don’t know me that much.” Ask knowing very well it’s just the same as for you.

“Doesn’t matter, I kinda liked you the first day I saw you and when I knew you were taken─” Jungkook laughs heartily. “I was like damn man maybe you are into taken woman.” You both laugh at that. Shake your heads. Jungkook leans against the backrest before speaking again. Entwines his fingers with you. “But then you’re not. And you’re leaving? Fuck, Noona, why does this feel like a damn tragedy?” Those keen eyes are watching you again. He’s being silly.

“It’s not Kookie, I’m just someone you knew. And you’ll forget me pretty soon.”

“What if I don’t? I mean c’mon, you’re an alien. How many people do you think get to meet aliens in their life?” Jungkook questions very seriously. Earning a punch to his arm. “No but seriously, I don’t think I’ll forget you. And if you really think I will, maybe you could do something unforgettable.” Adds. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, like hanging out for the remainder of your stay?” Quirks his brow smugly. Typical Jungkook. You take a moment to answer. You could’ve said no. On different situation. Now, however, you really like the idea of having someone to spend your days with. Or rather three days. Without needing to spend them in the presence of Park Jimin. Constantly being reminded of your heart break and humiliation.

“Only if you help me to find three fucking million Won in like three days.” You raise your brow as well. Trying to ease your own heart. Jungkook gives you an incredulous look.

“Three what?”

“Three million Won Kookie.” It’s fun teasing Jungkook. Only if you can really enjoy this.

“For what?” His eyes are bulging out of his skull.

“I’m kind of in debt to someone.”

“Well, I would’ve to sell my balls then.” Jungkook mumbles, matter of factly.

“Oh yeah?” You smirk. “How much will it worth?” Give him a very serious look.

“Change of plan, I don’t want to hang out anymore. Goodbye Noona.” The way he gets to his feet is comical. Covering his crotch. Makes you chuckle. This time for real.

………………………………………..

You’re partially in pain and partially in shame, when you return to Jimin’s apartment. To find it empty. No sign of him. Good. Brilliant. You don’t want to face him anyway. It’s well past midnight. Jungkook dropped you here after you traumatized the poor guy for an entire day. Bringing horrible ideas about how you can sell his male parts. He took you to his workplace. A restaurant where he works part time. Told you he rents one of the two apartments in the upper flat. Rent free. Namjoon’s parents owns the building. And they love Jungkook more than their own son. How you’re regretting not finding that place earlier. The lovely Kim couple or rather Mrs. Kim graciously offered you a job. Obviously, not knowing a Liya. Jungkook introduced you as you. By your real name. As a fellow college student. Too late, though. What’s the point if you only have three days. Especially when you’re not going to make three million within three days. So, you turned it down. In hindsight, you had a good day. From outside. Smiling and laughing. Nodding and agreeing. Talking and listening. Then from the inside there has been no change.

All day along, your mind has been swirling around one person. It’s frustrating because even you don’t know what you’re expecting from him. Is that really an apology? Is that it? Or just to know he cares? Then what difference would it make? You’ll still leave. He’ll still go back to his life. A happy one. You can have your miserable one. Then why the fuck are you so mad he didn’t even call you once. Why are you slumped on his couch raging with fury that he isn’t even here worrying about you. Why are you sad in the first place. He isn’t your boyfriend. Then why?

Why?

You groan loudly. Grabbing a couch cushion and throwing it across the spacious lounge. Repeat the mantra you’ve been saying to yourself the whole day in your mind.

He doesn’t care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care……

Fuck, it hurts. Hurts, hurts and hurts.

…………………………………………

Jimin is sitting in the kitchen. His face is buried in his laptop screen. That’s how you find him when you get down after getting ready. You know he heard your footsteps but is ignoring you on purpose. Fuck him. Fuck his adorable, puffy face and messy hair. Fuck his rude ass. You consider just disappearing out the door. Postponing the much-needed conversation once more. The case is; however, you’re running out of time. You only have one more day in this world. And according to your calculations, you’ll not be here on the destined day. It’s Key who give you the idea that you’ll have to stay here. Since you are required to do everything in reverse order. After all, she had no other options but to believe you when she failed to find a phone from the same brand. Failed to find the people she bet she could. Then you and she teamed up to find answers.

To make her idea work, however, you’ll have to spend another sleepless night. Then to add a pinch of salt to your wounds, you just realized this morning you can’t just make that decision by yourself. Park Jimin has been involved in this mess from the start. You’ll have to talk, whether you like it or not.

Well, to hell with it!

“Jimin.” You finally find your voice after standing here for more than one minute. Cringing at your own voice. It’s too loud. Jimin must’ve gone deaf since he doesn’t even flinch at the sound. Doesn’t acknowledge you at all. Oh, you’ll give Lee Seung a lap dance for a single chance to slap Park Jimin. Unfortunate that you can’t. All you can do is try again. “Jimin.” You call him again. Even louder this time. Still nothing.

For fucks sake! You practically storm toward him. Bridging the gap by just three long steps. Your palm hitting the countertop next to his laptop loudly. Harshly. That it hurts like a bitch. Then Park Jimin doesn’t even blink at that. Yet briefly glance at you.

“Will you fucking stop acting so immature.” You shout. Not that you intended to. It’s out of control now. In the end, it takes Jimin’s full attention to you. Incredulous look on his face as he snickers.

“Immature?” Questions. Finally closes his laptop.

“Yes. Stop acting so immature because we need to talk.” You take a step back. Hands crossing under your chest. Jimin tilts his head to the side.

“Immature...” Mumbles to himself. Stands up. Takes a step toward you. You’re proud at how you don’t budge. “Says the one who avoided me for an entire day.” Looks sharply in your eyes. You hold that eye contact. You hate how your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at his stare. Hate how your mouth goes dry. Ridiculous how you have to force yourself to stay still when he takes another step. Trying hard not to show that you’re affected right now.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

“Yeah? Then what were you doing? Staying away purposely for no reason, because everything you do has no reason?” Jimin isn’t shouting like the last times. And for some fucked up reason, to know that you don’t even make him frustrated, makes your heart ache even more.

“No. I don’t know what’s that even supposed to mean but I wasn’t avoiding you, Park. I was hanging out with a friend.” You answer his question. Feeling really annoyed. Earning another scoff.

“Friend? Good. Now you have lot of friends.” He rakes his eyes over you. “Looks like you’re about to do the same today.” Irony in his voice is clear.

“None of your business Park.”

“You’re the one who wanted to fucking talk, Lil. Don’t give me the fucking attitude after you reached me.” Jimin snaps. Finally. Sickening how you feel a bit better.

“I did and you’re not letting me.” You point out. He says nothing, just stares you down. You take that as a hint to continue. “We- uh I need to find what I have to do… To stop this.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Every fucking thing. She wanted me to do everything in reverse order, which means I have to be here. Another night and- uh and you know Li─” God her name seems to get tangled in your throat. “─Liya won’t be here then, and I wanted to ask you whether if it’s okay or not?” You let down a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Jimin takes a moment. That pissed off expression softens. Sinks his teeth into his plump bottom lip. Funny how there are no wonderings anymore. You know how that feels. Those lips.

Okay fuck, focus.

Jimin sighs. Shrugs. Takes a step back. “Yeah whatever, I mean do what you have to do.” Gives you, his opinion. Turns around and grabs his device. Leaves.

Ouch!

………………………………

“You’re absolutely not going to do such thing Kook.” You rub the plate on your hand particularly hard.

“Why not? It’s not a huge sum. I can totally manage.” Jungkook looks alien in this kitchen. Doing the dishes even though it’s not his job here. He is just helping the new hire. Fucking sweet. Too sweet for his own good. That’s why he is about to lend you three million Won, which he doesn’t have yet. Will borrow from Namjoon. Ridiculous since Jungkook knows that you’ll not be here to pay it back. It’ll be on his account. Why would someone do that? Is he some kind of an angel?

“Because I’ll not be able to pay it back Jungkook. I don’t think there’s a way to transfer money across two different worlds.” You point out the obvious. Placing the dried plate on the pile of plates next to the sink. Jungkook didn’t want you to work. But of course, you do. You’re here since you’ve no other place to be. Besides Jimin, Jungkook is the only person you know. You're lucky to have met him. Don’t know what you would’ve done if it wasn’t for him. Today when you reached him, he let you know that unfortunately he can’t ditch the work but said you’re welcome to join him here. Not that the owners mind at all.

“I don’t want you to pay back Noona. It’s just... you look stressed.” He thinks, giving you another washed plate. You take it. Feel fucking awful.

“Well, I’m no one you should care that way Jungkook.”

“But I do. I mean… I’m helping an alie ─”

“Oh, shut up!” You nudge him with your shoulder. He giggles.

“But I’m serious Noona... I can manage, trust me.”

“But I don’t want you to─”

Your protest is interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall, followed by an enthusiastic voice.

“Kookie─” You and Jungkook both spin around at the same time to face Namjoon, who stops in the middle of the track after his eyes land on you. “Oh! Liya?” He questions. A grin spreading across his face. Before you can respond, a second voice echoes from behind Namjoon’s broad figure.

“Who’s Liya?” Mrs. Kim soon appears to be the owner of that voice. Smiling. You, however, feel your blood freeze inside your body. Eyes wide and panickily snapping toward Jungkook.

Fuck!

When you and Jungkook introduced you as you last time, you didn’t really hope to come back here. Today wasn’t planned. And now, you’re fucked. Yet again. What’s so new? You try to open your mouth with an excuse when Namjoon turns to his mother.

“Her? I mean this is Liya. Holy fuck what are you doing here?” He says to his mother first and asks the latter from you.

“Will you mind your language? And that’s no Liya.” Mrs. Kim happily states, already turning away to mind her own work. But not without telling your name. Saying that’s how you introduced yourself. “You guys know each other?” She asks while peering over a pot. Namjoon, who is utterly confused, looks between her and you. Blinks.

“Uh… that’s her nickname.” Jungkook butts in. Quickly. Oh, you’re glad. Nod furiously agreeing.

“Yeah? Okay...” Namjoon nods to himself. Smiles with his dimples on display before it disappears again. As if a sudden realization hit him. His gaze averts to Jungkook. “Wait? Did you fucking make her do the damn dishes? Bro? Did you make the fucking CEO of The SE wash dishes in our restaurant?” The disbelief in Namjoon’s eyes is comical. “Seriously?” He deadpans. You hear Mrs. Kim gasp. Have no time ponder that though. You chuckle awkwardly.

“Ah no… Namjoon-ah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble through your smile, gesturing to his mother with your eyes. Namjoon takes a moment. Looking at you like you’ve grown two heads. Not taking your hint at all. Jungkook to the rescue again. Throwing his hand around your shoulder and squeezing.

“Yeah, Hyung, what are you talking about? He is weird these days, Eomeoni.” Says to poor Mrs. Kim, who looks at all three of you. Jungkook gives a stern look to Namjoon. Namjoon opens his mouth again. Yet couldn’t utter a single word when Jungkook lets you go, only to walk around and grab Namjoon’s shoulders. “It’s time you should take a break Hyung. You’re delusional these days. I’ll escort him away.” Gives you a brief glance and says to the old lady in a very dramatic way. Practically drags Namjoon away, leaving you alone to keep smiling awkwardly.

…………………………………

You don’t like so many things. Among those so many things, you specifically don’t like how fast the days are passing. You’re just a day away from the fateful day now. According to your plan, you won’t leave today. Yet, you still have no idea what you’re going to do. It could very well be a special dance around a fire pit. A mortal sacrifice. A bond in blood. Or literally anything.

The other thing you specifically don’t like is how you haven’t seen Jimin. Not even once after your not so civil conversation last time. He is at it again. Ignoring. Avoiding. Being a fucking prick. You’re tired after staring at your phone. Hoping it will light up with a single text. With nothing much but perhaps with a request to talk before you leave. Then there’s nothing. He wasn’t there when you returned to his place that night. He wasn’t there when you woke up this morning. There’s a possibility that he won’t be there when you leave as well. You’re fucking restless. You can’t even hear what Jungkook is saying now. As you’re both sitting on the floor of his cozy little apartment. Your first time being here. If the saying that a person’s place reflects their personality holds true, it doesn’t apply to Jeon Jungkook. This place doesn’t reflect him whatsoever. Except for the mattress on the floor. A fucking mattress on the living room. Single size. For no apparent reason. He claims it’s for sitting purposes. Makes no sense. He sits on either floor or on the couch. Typical, random Jungkook.

“Okay, now you’re going to tell me what exactly you did that day one by one. And we’ll find what opens the wormhole to this parallel universe.” Jungkook shows you his tablet where he has drawn two circles. He erases a little part of the lines on both circles. Indicating the opened doorways between two worlds. You force yourself to pay attention to that instead of your phone. He continues after you hum in acknowledgement. “And then since that creepy lady said you need to do everything you did, in the reverse order, we gonna do it that way.” He opens a new page. And then writes number one on the top. “Go on tell me.” Urges you on.

You take a minute to gather your thoughts and concentrate. Then think about everything. There’s a reason you haven’t done the same with Key. You didn’t want her to know you were heartbroken that day. Not that you want Jungkook to know either, but what other options do you have?

“Um like what? Do we need to go through everything I did that day? I don’t think I remember everything.” You let him know. He shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. It obviously has to do something with sleeping, so let’s focus on that. What did you do before you went to sleep?” Jungkook bends down, ready to write down what you say. You take a deep breath before answering.

“I cried.” Mumble softly. Jungkook perks up. Head snapping toward you.

“Why?”

“Ah, nothing special, you know young heartbreaks. I’m fine now though.” You brush him off. See now, you and Jungkook just clicks so well together. Not just with age but you really like how he doesn’t push you. He does that most of the times but when you really don’t feel it- like now, he doesn’t. He just nods instead. Writes down what you said.

“Then?” Asks.

“I texted the college fuck boy.” How embarrassing to say that aloud. He doesn’t look at you this time, however. You watch him add the second point. “And he stood me up. I mean he was invited to my place, and he didn’t… and I cried myself to sleep and─” You don’t want to drag out the conversation. Want to get it all off away fast. Jungkook interrupts you though, eyes now back on you.

“What a stupid motherfucker to miss that.” Says nonchalantly. You gape at him.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Are you kidding me, Noona? Oh, c’mon I’d sell my soul to fuck you.” He is very serious. Got you blushing at the blunt word. You roll your eyes to hide that. Punching his muscular arm.

“Don’t fuck with me Kookie. Focus.” Turn his face away from you with his chin. You think you like how he giggles. And snort. And being annoying. Like how he doesn’t let go of the conversation. Even get you whining in complain. Yet does his job all the while. In the end, you have a list with only five points.

Cried.

Texted the fuckboy. (Stupid Motherfucker.)

Got ready. (Shouldn’t have)

Waited.

Cried again.

“Now what?” You ask, staring at the screen.

“Good question. It doesn’t make sense. Like okay, so you will not cry, obviously.” Jungkook crosses that point away.

Will you? Will you not cry? Well, you can’t cry, that’s the point.

“And you won’t be texting any fuckboys, so no get readying, waiting, or crying again.” He scribbles all the points away. Sighs. “Ah, this is so frustrating…” Groans. Puts the stylus on the table. You watch it roll away. Feeling equally frustrated. Or even more frustrated. A tense silence fall between. Both of you torturing your brains for an answer. For a moment where something special has happened. You can’t think of anything at all. Jungkook speaks again. Lazily and unsurely turning his head toward you.

“What if it’s something like a wish?” Asks with wide doe eyes. But they aren’t glistening. So, you know he isn’t excited about his idea.

“Really?” You peer at his eyes with a deadpan expression. “Easy like that? What is this? A fairy tale? Besides I don’t think I wished to be transported into a different world no matter how heartbroken I was, Kook.” You shake your head for more emphasis.

“I know but look─” Jungkook gestures to the tab again. “─those things don’t make any sense and since you’re so sure that’s all you did; it has to do something with your thoughts obviously. And I’m positive that halmeoni said something about miracles and shit.” Argues. When thinking about it that way, it makes sense in a certain way. Not that you can remember what exactly the lady said. It was like a dream to you

“I don’t know Jungkook, it feels funny to think it was wish.”

“I completely get it Noona, but what if it is? It’s not like we have other options anyway. Maybe, you should try that way.”

“Okay,” You straighten up. Fixing your posture and locking your eyes with him. “Let’s say it was a stupid wish. Then I can’t remember what I wished for. She asked me to do the opposite. How am I gonna do that when I don’t remember it?”

Jungkook fixes his posture as well. “Maybe uhh... because you were so hurt you wished to disappear?” Raises one of his brows skeptically. Oh, Jungkook sure does make sense. Theres a huge ass possibility you wished for that. But you certainly didn’t wish to be transported into a parallel universe. You take a moment to think it through.

“Well, it’s not like we have other options now, do we? But what if we messed up, like I make the wrong wish? Then what will happen? Should I go like, I wish to appear in my world again. It’s not really like I completely disappeared; I’m shifting.” You make your point, watching Jungkook shakes his head before turning toward you completely. Crossing his legs after he is facing you properly.

“I don’t think that is the case. If it was a wish, I think all you have to do is wish for what you want. Like this─” He closes his eyes. Hands in prayer. “─ I wish for my life back or I wish I would live my normal life again. Something like that. In the end, I think that’ll be the opposite of your initial wish either way.” Teaches you how to do it. This is a very serious situation, yet you couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“Oh, this is ridiculous but yeah whatever, I’ll chose the first.” You say with an eye roll.

“Good choice Noona. And if it doesn’t work?” He looks you straight in the eye. Smiles softly. “I’m sorry but I’ll be glad.”

The grin on your face falls. A pout replacing it as you take Jungkook in. At least there’s one person who thinks that way. You wish you could have some more time. Wish you can actually get to know Jungkook more. Wish you can have a happy life without anything messing up. Wish you can forgive Jimin and meet him for one last time. He doesn’t want to, however. Doesn’t even want to see you. Jungkook does and you need him to know you appreciate it. Without a single word you throw your hands around him. Placing your chin on his shoulder.

………………………………..

You and Jungkook stand in Jimin’s apartment building’s lobby. It’s getting dark. And is pouring down. Not it’s a common occurrence. Yet at the very moment it occurred, you knew how special the day is. How it is the day you look forward to. It’s exactly like the time you stormed out of this same lobby couple of months ago. A little colder than that. But it’s the same. You and Jungkook are slightly wet. It has been an exhausting yet exhilarating day. A day where you spent it to the fullest. Or at least try to do so. Still, despite Jungkook’s best effort you checked your phone more than a hundred times. Every time your hope was shattered into tiny million pieces. Jimin hasn’t sent you a single message. At this point, you think you should give up. Know he won't be home. Maybe, you should’ve given up and talked to him first. Then the last time you tried that; it went awfully wrong. All you can do is accept. Resignation.

You sigh heavily. Staring into Jungkook’s face. He isn’t smiling anymore. He was throughout the day. If he ever wondered why you don’t hang out with Jimin, he never asked. You’re glad. Know he just doesn’t think it’s because you and Jimin did something wrong. Wrong or not you and Jimin were close. This might raise questions, but Jungkook doesn’t bring it up. You know he can be stupidly annoying, running his mouth and asking things without any prior thoughts. But now he doesn’t. Is simply here for you without expecting anything in return. That breaks your heart. Jungkook made sure you have memories to cherish.

Starting from the last night spent watching movies and drinking beers on his couch. To every single place he could take you. You even have another plushie in your hand. See, it’s never about the time.

“I really don’t wanna do this.” You mutter in a hoarse voice.

“Neither do I. Is it so selfish to ask you to stay? I mean keep going.” Jungkook smiles, sadly. You chuckle. Just a way of hiding your pain. So many painful things.

“It’s not just about me you know?” You remind him about Liya. True, you did so many horrible things to her but still nothing will compare to stealing her life. Besides, you don’t want to hear Jimin confront you. Ask you to fucking leave. No. You’ll never put yourself in that terrible position. You’ll leave with your head held high. Jungkook nods again.

“In that case….” Sighs. “Noona, I really enjoyed your company, and I really do like you... I mean not in that way, but I do. If I knew you, as you from the first place, I might really have kept you here but yeah… so…” Gulps down his own words. Just bridges the distance between you and pulls you into a warm hug. “I’ll miss you Noona.” Mumbles into your hair. You wrap your hands around his figure. Squeezing him back with a same kind of fervor.

“I’ll miss you too, Kookie. A lot.” You ignore what he said. Partially because you don’t know what to say. Partially because it’s getting harder to talk. Your eyes back to stinging. This time though, you don’t hold back. You let the tears soothe the sting. Allow those tears to roll down your cheeks. “I’ll fucking miss you Kookie. Thanks for being with me for these couple days.” You pull away from him. Peering at his glassy eyes. “I’m kind of homeless, you know. So, it means a lot to me that you helped.” You chuckle through your tears. He does the same.

“I’m glad I helped an alien.” Bites on to his bottom lip coyly. This time you both laugh. Nod. Then you’re back in his embrace. Pass some more things you feel like sharing. Have no idea how long you take for this goodbye. When you finally find the strength to move away, you simply pat his arm. Wipe your tears. Silly.

“Well, then don’t forget you met an alien.” You say as the last thing. Jungkook just nods. “Okay.” You nod too, clutching the plushie in your hand tightly. “Then it’s g-good─” Gosh your voice is cracking again. “Goodbye Kookie.” You take a step back. Then before you can turn around and leave for good, he stops you again. Pulling out an envelope from his jacket pocket. Holding it to you. You look at it with your brows furrowed. Confused.

“Take it, I know you want to pay Jimin back.” He mutters softly. Your eyes widen as you realize what’s inside the envelope. Your head begins to shake involuntarily. You really thought he wouldn’t really do it. You already gave up on finding money.

“No Jungkook, I said no. I can’t take your money.” You take another step back in protest.

“Hey, I know… Listen, I don’t know what happened between you and Jimin but if you want to pay him back you should do it. This is not a lot Noona, I can manage. Joonie isn’t going to send me to prison because of this. Trust me.” Jungkook grabs your hand, trying to place the envelope in. You try your best to free yourself and walk away. Then of course, he is Jungkook. So, you find yourself waving to him, the envelope in your other hand. Eyes teary again. While you stand inside the elevator. He waves back at you. You wave and wave and wave. Until the elevator door closes.

………………………………….

The beeping sound of the keypad echoes through the empty hallway as you enter the passcode to the apartment. Since the day you locked yourself out of this place, Park Jimin has made sure you have access to every single thing inside this building. Everything he and Liya have, you share with them every other day. See, it makes perfect sense to repay him for what he did. Nothing to do with your ego. It’s just that you are being nice. You can keep saying the same thing.

You opened the door to the darkness. Until the sensors pick up your presence and the threshold lights up. In a gloomy yellowish light. You shed your partially wet jacket and step out of your wet shoes. Clutching the envelope tightly as you walk inside. Everything is still dark. There’s no sign of anyone else. The heaviness you already feel in your heart is becoming intense. Unbearable. Even when you knew this is what will happen, you’re disappointed. You stand up in the entryway, steeling yourself. Jimin isn’t here to say goodbye. All the rage and fury you felt has melted away into sadness. You’ll blame it on the goodbye you wished to Jungkook. It played a part truly. There’s no denying that you’re sad to part ways. Forever. You kind of wish you could say goodbye to each and every person you met in this world. But you can’t. Then among everything, you can’t even say goodbye to the person who matters the most.

Park Jimin.

After a deep breath, you step into the dark longue. Hand blindly touching the wall next to you. Searching for the switch panel. The moment your fingertips graze over it; the darkness disappeared. Bringing the world into light. Bringing a figure on couch into your sight. Making you jump and hit the wall accidentally. A low curse leaving your mouth.

Park Jimin.

Just sitting there. His hands entwined together, placed on his knees. Bended forward. Eyes on you. Doing nothing but staring. He really scared the life out of you. What the fuck is he doing like that? He must’ve heard you entering. Then he decided to stay quiet? What a freak? Oh, here comes that rage again. Why are you getting mad when this was what you wanted? You wanted Jimin to be here. Shouldn’t you be happy? Well, that’s the case after all. You’re getting mad because of the satisfactory bubble you feel on the pit of your stomach. That heavy feeling started to ease away. You’re mad because you shouldn’t be this desperate for his fucking attention. So, you let your mouth decide what to do next instead of your brain.

“Why are you here?” You step forward finally. Jimin straightens up, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Why? Do I need your permission to be on my own house?” Asks cockily. Of course, it’s his place.

“Well, you weren’t here all this time?”

“Why should I be here?”

“You shouldn’t, that’s why I’m asking what are you doing here today? Could’ve easily avoided me until I’m gone. Why bother being here?” You take another step forward. Jimin just keeps his eyes on you. Just like you, he’s attacking you with his words. But something in those chestnut eyes tell you he isn’t really mad.

“I didn’t avoid you Lil. You did. And I’m fully allowed to be anywhere I want to. Here, there, anywhere I want.” He shrugs. Your chest tightens again at the nickname. Should you have talked to him first? Why should you? You just nod. Once. “So, you figured how you gonna end this?” He asks again.

“Kind of yes.”

“What do you mean kind of?” Jimin knits his eyebrows. You shoot a glare at him.

“Kind of mean kind of Park. I think I know a way─”

“You think? That means you don’t know Lil.” He finally stands up. This time, it’s he who takes a step forward. “I thought you were working on solving this shit with that kid, but it looks like you’ve been having fun.” He scoffs. Oh, maybe you were wrong to think he wasn’t really mad. He was mad. And he still doesn’t care about you. Is just worried you’ll mess this and stay. Fuck that. Yes, you’re sad but you’ll never let him know. You’ll still say good fucking bye and show him your middle finger. You grit your teeth, preparing to counter back when he doesn’t let you. “And you cried? You’re that sad to leave him?” Laughs with his head tilting to side. “I’m sorry, I might be the villain of your story, demanding you to leave because I want my girlfriend back.” Looks straight in your eyes. You can see the fire in them. What did you do that suddenly he hates you this much. That’s the conclusion you can draw. He might be hating you from his guts. That’s why he looks so furious.

You’ll not cry. You’ll not cry.

You gulp down the lump that is creating on your throat. Cloud your pain with anger. “I fucking did my best Park. I fucking did. And guess what? No, I’m not just thinking. I know. I know how to stop this shit and I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.” You like the look of confusion on his face as you stride toward him fast. You’re not sure at all. Like you told him. A wish? Jimin will double down with laughter if you tell him that was the idea you came up with. So, you won’t tell him. Instead, you’ll leave him in the darkness and pretend like you know everything. Then you’ll hope everything will work eventually. “Then you can live happily ever after, you fucking asshole.” You screech, inches away from his face. Stare furiously into his brown eyes for a minute before pushing the envelope into his chest. Your movements so harsh that it makes him take a step back. One of his hands involuntarily comes up to grab the thing you’re showing against him. Confused. Looking at you with wide, doe eyes.

“Here’s the things I owe you. I know it’s not enough but that’s something and keep this as well. Not that it’ll be useful anyway.” With your other hand you push your phone into his chest as well. “GOOD. FUCKING. BYE! Park Jimin.” You wait a minute as you grit the words out. Wait till he catches the phone too before you step away. Turning around to leave. Not completely knowing what’s the next step but you’ll just make a wish while you’re on the bed. Looking to your side to stop the tears from rolling down. Biting inside your lip.

You’ll not cry. You’ll not cry…

You nearly storm away for once and for all hopefully, when your arm is suddenly stuck between firm fingers. “What the fuck are you doing? What are these?” Jimin hisses in your ear. His fingers firmly and tightly wrapped around your forearm. This is fucking annoying. You need to get away before you tear up in front of him. You’ve put you through enough humiliation in your life already. Don’t need another one. You slightly turn around, making sure you shoot the same glare at him.

“That’s fucking money Park. Are you dumb? You can’t see that’s money? Why are you asking things that are so obvious?”

“I know that’s…. Why the fuck are you giving me money?” Jimin sighs before yanking from your hand to turn you properly to face him. Making you wiggle your hand. He lets you go. You’re still standing a mere inch away from him. Only if this is a different situation.

“Because I don’t want to leave as a debtor to you.”

“I don’t want your damn money Lil. What do you take me for? A fucking beggar?” Jimin pushes the envelope and the device back towards you. Which you don’t take in your hands. Instead, you take a step back.

“Well, I don’t care what you want Jimin. I told you; I won’t be in your debt.” Throw your hand in the air. “You’re so fucking rich, I know that. You don’t want the money, do whatever you want with it Park. Burn it for all I care.” You yell. Throw a murderous glare. Attempt another failed escape when Jimin grabs your arm again. Harsh. Hard. His other hand cups your cheek. Brings his face closer to you. So fast that you can’t even comprehend what’s happening until he is breathing on your face. You gasp. Surprised by his sudden actions.

“I don’t want your money. I won’t take it.” Grits against your mouth. His hand on your cheeks squeezing you tightly. Like he wants to break you. Or wants to make you realize he doesn’t want your money. You’re not someone to back away, though.

“I don’t fucking care Jimin.” You grit back. Still glaring. Not giving up.

“You’re taking that with you.” Jimin demands. Gets you laughing but failed since he is squeezing your cheeks. If you weren’t so furious and hurt, this might’ve been enough to get your knees buckling. The proximity. His breath. Warmth. Every single thing about him is enough. But you know better than that. So, you push him away at the same time you swat his hand. Failed. Yet again.

“You think you can demand me? Well, too bad Jimin.” You grab from his wrist. “I won’t take it back. I’ll make sure I pay you back even if it’s the last thing I do.” Try your best to push his hand away. Not working. If anything, he pulls you closer with your arm. Never stop abusing your cheeks.

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t even if it’s the last thing I do.” He growls. You don’t know how but somehow; he has inched his face even closer to you. His lips graze over yours when he speaks. Something changed. It’s not just stubborn anger anymore. It’s not the need to win this stupid fight anymore. And of fucking course, your breath hitch. Despite all the hurt and anger inside you, your body instantly start to react to Park Jimin. Because everything about him is just enough. All it takes is a light touch of his lips against yours. You’re breathless and speechless. Jimin shakes your face. Asking you to reply.

“Just take the fucking money Park. Burn it down like I said.” You weakly mutter this time. Trying to hide the beating of your heart. And your uneven breathing.

“I don’t want that Lil. Why are you stubborn always?”

“I already told you.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything to that. Just keeps his hold on you. Still harsh. Still hard. Then sighs.

“You want to pay me that bad?” Asks. You feel small under his intense gaze. Your heart is beating violently inside your poor rib cage. “Hm?” Pushes.

“Yes.” You’re glad you said that sternly. Jimin takes another silent moment.

“Fine…. Let me fuck you then.” Free your cheeks, only to curl that hand around your waist. Pulling you flat against his chest in one swift motion. Eyes burning into yours. The fire is visible. Wasn’t that anger? Your breath tangles in your throat. Yet again. Your tummy does a flip and heart stops. A shudder engulfs you. Still, you look at him with disbelief. Despite the wave of heat washed over you, you stare at him with wide eyes. Did he just?

No words escape your dry lips. “Let me fuck you Lil.” He repeats. “Let me have my way with you.” Whispers against your lips. Sending tingles all over your body. “You wanted to pay. Pay in this way.” Tilts his head to the side, so his lips are touching your cheekbones now. You can’t speak still. Speechless. Spellbound. You should slap him. What a fucking filthy, shameless…. “I know I’m an asshole to say this, but what’s new Lil… I am an asshole. You know that. I know that too. I’m a fucking selfish prick.” He presses a kiss to your cheekbone. Is touching you without your consent? Or is he? You’re not stopping him once again. You’re making the same mistake all over again. Isn’t this what they call taking advantage?

If you know that you should stop him. He should repulse you. Not this weak when his hands slips down to your hips. Grabs your flesh hard. Mumbling against your skin. “Baby please.” Whines. Park Jimin fucking whines. Breathless. Hands go past your hips to your ass. Molding the flesh roughly. You can’t suppress your uneven breathing anymore. “Just want you. Can’t keep this damn thing inside me anymore baby. I… I fuck, Lil please…” Presses your body hard against his, hands squeezing your ass cheeks relentlessly. Voice dark and low. You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the damn plead. To hear him beg. For you. In that raspy voice. Dear god, it does things to your body that you can’t even bring yourself to explain. “Fucking please...” It’s the last straw for you. You find words.

“You are so shameless Park Jimin.” You should add your name to that as well.

“I know.” Jimin presses another kiss to your cheek. Pulls away to look at your face. “But I tried Lil. I really tried but fuck I can’t.” His lips meets yours. You stay still. Don’t kiss him, don’t stop him. He doesn’t mind that apparently. Kisses you hard. “I know how wrong and shameless I am. But guess what baby? I don’t care. Just want to fuck you. Say yes Lil. You wanted to pay. So, pay me for everything I did.” Kisses your jaw. “I’ll make sure I get everything you can give.” Kisses your neck. You absolutely don’t intend to touch him but that’s what you’re doing. Your fists bunched up in his black T-shirt. His hands are everywhere now. Touching you. Holding you close. Lips exploring the skin which is exposed to him with your long sleeve top. You don’t really think you said yes. Not verbally at least. In the end, however, you always give up. That’s how you find tilting your face to the side. To meet his lips which he keeps busy on your skin. There’s an uncontrollable, feral desire building inside you. And it snaps when Jimin latches on to your lips.

You really can’t understand how he gets you shamelessly moaning just with one flick of his tongue against yours. Can’t understand how your back suddenly ended up meeting the couch leather. Can’t understand what devil possessed Jimin that he is kissing you like he went mad. Hovering over you. You spread your legs so he can slot between them perfectly. His bulge can align with your cunt comfortably. He doesn’t break the kiss for a good long. Keep it messy and filthy. Sucking and licking. Teeth clanking. Until he can’t take it anymore. Until your already swollen and bitten lips aren’t enough. He wants more. So do you. That’s why you’re bucking your hips upward to create that familiar heavenly friction on your dripping cunt.

Jimin is attacking your neck now, propping on one arm to tug on your top with the other. In vain since he can’t tug the neckline down enough. Enough to reveal what he wants to see. You’re covered too much for his liking it seems.

“Off Lil, shit, I’ll rip it otherwise.” He makes space between your smushed bodies. This time tugging at the bottom. You nod and allow him. Not because you care about your cheap clothing but because now, you’re impatient. Just like him.

“Jimin.” A whimper leaves your mouth as Jimin get rid of your top. He groans.

“God, I missed this.” Mumbles. Makes you giggle. Not for so long when he is unhooking your bra. Giggles turn into another shameless moan when you feel his warm tongue on your hardened nipples. “Fuck baby, I missed this. Missed you.” He confesses. Almost as if he’s in an entrance. Doesn’t belong to this world. That makes your heart explode. You’re worried it’ll really explode. It’s too much. Everything is too much. His words. His hot tongue, sucking on your tits, making them drenched. His breath hitting your cold skin. His hands roaming over your exposed body, molding the flesh and rubbing. You’re in an entrance too. Brain’s empty and fuzzy.

“Me too. Missed you..” You hear yourself mumble groggily. That voice can’t belong to you now, can it? Your fingers go to thread in his silky blonds without your knowledge. Back arching and pushing your wet nipples more into his mouth. Jimin nods to your chest, acknowledging your words. Kissing every inch of your skin. Biting and sucking. Fucking worshipping your body. Kisses the underside of your boobs, kisses your cleavage, kisses your tummy. You’re moaning so loud now. Desperate and needy like always. It’s your turn to tug on his T-shirt now. Jimin isn’t difficult today, surprisingly. Relent without a single word. Throws it away somewhere in this spacious space. Apparently, doesn’t have the enough patience to be a little tease and make you suffer. Is unbuttoning your jeans the moment his torso is naked. Your jeans and panties face the same destiny. They are thrown somewhere in a second. He gets you bare in record time. You whimper watching his breath hitch at your naked figure. Pupils dilated and face flushed. Pure sin. The Park Jimin. Even his hungry stare is enough to make you cum. Odd.

He places his hands on your knees to spread your legs. Harsh and fast. Revealing your glistening pussy to his sight. Curses. “Fucking hell.” Groans. “You’re soaking.” Wets his lips, greedily. Oh fuck, he is going to be the death of you. “Wanna taste you so bad.” Gulps. Brings his fingers just to graze them over your sloppy slit. Over your sensitive clit. Making your thighs twitch.

“Do it please.” You plead with your sight hazy. Jimin dips down at light speed. His tongue taking a one long stripe over your slit. From your clenching hole to your clit. Feral. Moans into your cunt as he tastes you. You expect him to suck on your clit. But then after that one taste he is pulling away like all he wanted was a taste. Much to your dismay. You look at him with confused eyes. He is spreading your legs even more, however. Eyes glued on your cunt. Groans. Whimpers. Restless. Peeks at your face. “I- I can’t anymore Lil….” He doesn’t complete his sentence. There’s no need to. You know what he wanted to say. Simply he doesn’t know what to do first. He wants all. He, like you, is turned on in a humanly impossible way. Doesn’t know how to satiate that burning desire. Ache. You want to be helpful.

“Fuck me. Jimin fuck me. I can’t either, want you inside me. Now.” Your grabby hands reach him to pull him forward. Kissing him hard. Let him go when he abruptly stands up. “Condom.” He mumbles as he storms away. Isn’t it comical how his brain isn’t functioning properly? It should be but all it does is make new waves of arousals pool between your thighs. Now dripping down into his expensive couch. Jimin reappears in the lounge even before you can blink. Already tugging on the drawstrings to lose his sweats. You act on your instincts, spreading your legs wide to present yourself to him. To the furthest you can with the backrest limiting your space. Impatiently. Jimin lets his sweats pool around his ankles. Kicks it away. His boxers are the next to follow. Is completely naked when he reaches the couch. Foil package already tucked in his teeth when he is sitting between your spread legs. Rips the package and takes the latex out. Eyes darting from your swollen cunt to your fucked up face. Watching you biting down on your bottom lip. Eyes pleading and hips sneakily pushing up in search of anything.

“You don’t need prep baby?” Jimin questions. Concerned. Eyes now fixed on your face and his movements halted. “Can you take me?” Looks at your cunt again. As if he is assessing your abilities. The thing is you can’t wait anymore. Just like him. You nod furiously. “I can, I’m positive. Please.” Push your hips forward. Jimin takes a moment to make sure you’re telling the truth. When he is, he nods, going back to resume his work. Giving few pumps to his throbbing and aching member. You watch in awe how he does that swiftly. Pumping. Making pre cum spread across his tip with his thumb. You’ll always think he’s the most beautiful. No difference to his dick. Hard and swollen. Veins running down. Oh, you want him inside you now. You’re clenching around nothing violently. “Jimin please.” You hurry him up. Urging him to quickly roll down the latex on his pretty cock. What a shame! No time to brood when he is finally hovering over you again. One hand place next to your head and the other still holding his dick. Aligning it with your cunt. Rubs the tip along your slit couple times. Those blown out eyes looking sharp in your eyes.

“Ready?” Asks. You nod. Another push from your hips for more emphasis. Jimin doesn’t waste time. Places the tip against your tiny entrance. Doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly start to push inside. His swollen tip intruding your walls. Stretching you up. The initial burn hits you hard. How long it has been after all. Should’ve asked for preparation. Good thing you’re so needy and dripping. And Jimin taking it slow. “Shh... it’s okay Lil. Slow. You can take me. I know you can.” He coaxes you. “Take me Baby. Like that..” Soothes you while his hard member is sneakily entering your warmth. His teeth almost draw blood on his plump lip. Looks like it’s a war inside him not to accidentally hurt you by pushing forward hard. You try to relax as he keeps pushing. His dick perfectly sliding against your warm walls. Pleasurable inch by inch, he pushes forward completely. Finally, filling you to the brim as his hips presses against you. You both moan loudly. Your hands finding purchase in his hair again.

“Fuck, like that.” Jimin balances himself by bringing his other hand on the other side of your head. Eyes closed tight. You can feel his dick twitch inside you. What a feeling. That is. What a sight. Jimin hovering above you. Struggling internally because of you. “So fucking tight Lil….” Groans. You moan. Allowing your walls to adjust to his perfect size. To get use to the pleasurable burn. And it’s subsiding fast. Replacing only with pleasure. Pleasure that makes your blood liquid fire. You grind your hips against him. Languid. “Jimin.” Call. Jimin grabs your waist tight.

“A moment baby, give me a moment.” He is still closing his eyes. Basking in the feeling. You would’ve liked to do the same, but he feels too good. You can’t control yourself. So, you buck your hips again.

“Please.” Show your hands around his neck. Clutch him tightly. Holding on to him for your dear life. Jimin presses his forehead against yours. Groans.

“You’re so tight baby. I’ll come if I move now. Give me a minute princess.” He rasps. You shivered. Partially due to the pleasure. Partially due to his nickname. He called you what? And then to know he is affected that much. Going crazy. Makes your brain goes haywire. Makes you much more desperate. Hence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what he asked you to do. Instead of giving him the minute he wanted you’re pushing more into him. Your walls spasming around his rock-hard dick.

“God Jimin please, please. Please move. Fuck me.” You nearly cry. Jimin kisses you hard. Just to shut you up.

“God dammit Lil. Don’t plead... fuck, don’t do that.” Grinds his hips. You clench around him. Yet again. Involuntarily. Do it again. Then again and again. Until Jimin is whining. Breathless. Your foreheads are still touching. “Ah… Please baby, don’t. Stop it.” Pleads. This is how you’ll die.

“Can’t help it.” You slur. He accepts that. Takes a breath before finally composing himself. Giving you what you want. Drags his hard member out till only the tip remains inside. Looks at your face when he rams back. Not slow, not hard either. Just sensual and enough to let you feel every inch of him drags against your sensitive walls. You’re reeling. Moaning. Nails digging into his biceps. He does it again. Setting up a pace, thrusting in and out of your soppy cunt. Moaning when your needy hole sucks him up greedily.

“Fuck Lil. You feel so good.”

You can only nod. Mind completely full of the sensation between your legs. It’s pure pleasure now. Only that and Park Jimin. Covered in sweats. Placing occasional kisses on your lips as his hips slam against yours. Peering into your eyes. He looks otherworldly. Lost in the heat of your cunt. And the tightness. But then he looks like he is still struggling. That war is still going inside him. Holding back. You don’t want that. “Jiminie….” You breathe against his lips. Sniveling. He looks at you. Questioning with his eyes. “Harder please.” Request. Jimin tremble. His hand on your hips squeezing you so tight that you’re worried you’ll break.

“Harder?” Jimin repeats. You nod. “Yeah?” He is just asking for the sake of it. “Like this.” Stops his thrusting only to ram his hips against you so hard that your back leaves the couch. You moan, nodding. Eyes getting teary. “More?” Asks. Why should he even bother. You don’t even realize that you’ve nodded when he snaps his dick inside you harder than before. “Fucking hell, princess, take it like that.”

Within a minute he is fucking into you fast. Pounding. Desperate. And when he snakes his hand under your ass to push you up a little you know you’re wrecked. For now, and forever. The change of angle making his dickhead presses against your sweet spot. Your thighs shaking. Each hungry thrust brings you closer to your edge. You prepare yourself for that feeling. Eyes closed and scratching Jimin’s back. Only for his hand to disappear from you ass and grab your jaw instead. Making your eyes snap open.

“Eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” He picks his pace a notch up. Relentless. Brutal. Pulls away from the heat of your body so he can look at you properly. Keeps his hand on your jaw. “Keep your slutty eyes on me when you cream my cock.” Takes his hand away. Places that on your sensitive nub. Starts to rub it harshly. What more you could ask for. “Go on Lil. Cum. Squeeze my cock like the desperate slut you are.” Grits through his clenched teeth. And you comply. Of course, you do. Without a single word. The tension inside your body snaps so fast. White spots appearing on your vision and ears ringing.

“Jimin. Jimin…. Fuuckk.” His name is the only thing you can mutter. The orgasm hits you long and hard. Jimin prolongs it to the best he can. When your vison becomes clear again you can see how pleased he is. Wicked smile on his lips. Overstimulates you with his hand and hips never stopping. You believe he will keep pounding till he follows you. But then he pulls out. Confusing you. Yet again.

“Turn around. On your knees. Want to fuck you harder.” Commands. Doesn’t give you enough time to follow it though. Already manhandling you on to your knees. You place your hands on the arm rest. Grab it tightly since you can’t trust your legs. Your body is weak after the intense pleasure that washed over you. Pussy still spasming. Legs shaking. Jimin grabs your hips, pulling up so your ass is perked up perfectly. Your already ruined, throbbing hole full on display. Presses your head down. Back arched. You can hear him groan.

“You’re such a sight princess. Fucking slut.” He mumbles more to himself before you can feel his hot tip back on your entrance. This time he enters you in one hard thrust. You cry as he splits your cunt. “Jimin…” Back to chant his name. He sets a merciless pace without further ado. Fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass. Smacks it. Not hard enough for you to hurt. Just enough to sting a little. And how you like the feeling. So, you wiggle your ass. Earn another one. Making him chuckle darkly.

“You like that?” Asks. Doesn’t wait for your answer when he does it again. And again, with his hips striking against your ass in a brutal pace. “Fuck. Fuck. Cunt sucking me in so good Lil. You feel so tight and good. I don’t want to stop fucking you, I can’t fucking stop.” Moans.

“Then d-don’t J-Jimin.” You say into the leather of the couch. Eyes now rolling back and drooling. He mutters something incoherent to that. Bends down to mumble in your ear. One hand snaking around your throat.

“Say you wanted this too baby. Just like me. Say you wanted to have my cock splitting you up.” Tightens his grip on your throat slightly.

“I did. I do. J-Jimin... I wanted it so bad... I want you. Want you to keep ruining my cunt.” A much-dignified version of you would’ve buried yourself alive to hear you say that. But that’s worthy when Jimin grunts. Parises you.

“That’s a good slut. C’mon baby make me cum. You need to pay me after all.” He straightens up. But takes you with him. Now your back plastered against his chest. Hand still on your throat and spilling filth against your ear. “But I’ll be generous. Cum one more time for me hm?” His cock keep massaging your inner walls. Hitting the spot repeatedly. “Be a useful whore and cum one more time princess. C’mon.” Squeezes your throat. Free hand starts assaulting your sensitive clit again. “One more for me.” Kisses your face. Messily. It doesn’t take much. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s Jimin after all. Even before you know it, your head is falling back on to his shoulder. You grab on to his hands for strength. Him being the only thing that keeps you upright as your second- even more intense orgasm hits you. Your whole body going feral as Jimin fucks into you through that.

“Like that. Yes, fucking like that baby. Squeeze me. Milk me dry.”

You do as he says. It’s out of your control anyway. He makes your body do whatever he wishes. Your cunt is gripping him tightly. How heavenly Jimin moans in your ear.

“Fuck yes.”

You know he is close. The way his grip tightens and how he is losing the precision of his pounding are the signs. “So close baby. Gonna cum so hard for you.” Promises. And all it takes is another pathetic beg from you. A beg for him to cum. To cum so good for you. He does. With a loud groan and teeth painfully sinking onto your shoulder. His hand around your throat leaving its position to wrap his arms around your petite body. Holding you close as his hips stutter and stills against your plump ass. Releasing his seeds to the latex wrapper. You keep clenching around his pulsing dick, milking every last drop like he wanted. Jimin keeps you in that position for a minute. The lounge which was filled with lewd sound of your cunt against his cock and the slapping of skin, now fills with the ragged breathing. You both trying to calm down.

Jimin lets you go after a moment. Your limp legs instantly give up and fall forward. His softening member slipping out of your cunt. He follows you. Putting his weight on your body as your face meet the leather again. Another peaceful moment passes. Then he is pulling away. You lazily turn your head to catch him removing the condom. Tying it up and placing it somewhere that’s hidden from your sight. Turning his gaze back to you. You don’t know what’s next. You never knew that from the first place. Not that it matters anyway now, is it? This is the last day and there’s no tomorrow to be worried about. Whatever he does, you’ll accept it. Only that you don’t expect him to reach for your face. Trace your cheek softly before looking at you with glittery eyes. Sparkling. Full of adoration. Affection.

Fuck!

Your heart is back to beating fast. “You okay?” He asks softly. Voice like honey. Music. Soothing. You nod. “Sure?” Always needs reassurance. “Yes, Park.” You mutter. He gives you a firm nod. Gently turns you around with your arm. You just let him, not having any strength. Stare into his glistening eyes when you’re fully turned around and comfortable. Jimin wipes your cheeks with his palm. Says nothing when he suddenly stands up. Searching for his discarded clothes. Finds his sweats and pull it up. Asks you to stay put as he leaves. You just keep lying there. Still stark naked. Wondering what he is doing. Get your answer when he is back with a wet towel in his hand.

Double fuck!

This is bad he is doing this after care shit. It’s bad he makes you believe he cares again. You’re already fucked up anyway. Because of this man. It never was about sex. Or burning, unrelenting desires. If it was just that, you wouldn’t have been that much of an emotional mess. Now him doing this, makes it all worse.

“Wh-what are you─” You don’t get to finish your question when he pries your legs open.

“What does it look like?” He gently places the warm towel on your sensitive pussy. You wince. Wipes down the slick that is covering your nether parts and thighs. He is so gentle that it almost makes you lull into sleep. Throws the towel away and holds his t-shirt for you. You lazily take it from him. Hiding your nakedness with it. Don’t have enough strength in you to protest. Are lying down again the moment you’re covered. Eyes never leaving his careful glance. You keep staring at each other for a long couple of minutes. As if this is the first time you saw each other properly. In deep down, of course, you’re beginning to worried. You finally did it. Committed the crime. So, now what? Just parting ways after a good fuck. Apparently, no. There’s more to it. Jimin sighs heavily. Makes you slightly wince in surprise when he leans down over you again. Back to caressing your cheek while you watch him with wide eyes. Halts his actions. “Fuck.” Curses softly. In a way of regretting. Closes his eyes and opens them again. You have no idea what’s going on inside his head. And you don’t expect it to be this when he finally speaks.

“I’m sorry.” He says. Catches you off guard. “I’m fucking sorry Lil.” Repeats. Voice wavering. Touches your face again. Brushes your hair out of your face. “I’m such a fucking jerk. I’m sorry.” Nudges your nose with his. Ever so slightly. Touch barely there. Says it again. Over and over. Mumbling an apology after an apology. You’re beyond surprised.

Is he sorry for breaking your heart? Or is he sorry for fucking you?

“I’m so sorry baby. Sorry for saying those shitty things to you. You don’t deserve… I… I... don’t deserve to have you like this.” He solves your problem. You keep staring at him. The worry in his eyes. Regret. And you swear you can see fear. You hesitantly raise your hand to touch his cheek. Don’t know what’s happening. You want to say something, but he doesn’t let you.

“But please don’t leave.” Says out of nowhere. If you were surprised earlier, now you are dumbfounded. Jimin looks down at you with panicked eyes. “Don’t leave Lil. I’m sorry and I’ll make it right. Just don’t go.” Rambles. Lenas into your touch. Pecks your lips. Looks like he is on the verge of crying. “Don’t go.” Hides his face on your neck.

What’s happening?

You stare into the white ceiling now. Keeping Jimin top of you. Pondering. Thinking. Not believing what’s happening.

He wants you to stay.

“That’s such a selfish thing to ask.” Mutter into his ear finally.

“I know.” He chuckles. Bitterly. “I’m selfish. I don’t even know what I want. But maybe there are other ways. I owe you, don’t I? I don’t want you to leave like that. Give me a chance to make it right. Please?” He says to your neck. You have millions of questions to ask. Why would he want to make it right at all. What’s the point? What’ll happen to Liya.

“What about Liya?” You voice out your concerns. You did what you did. No use of sugar coating the bitter truth anymore. “You want her to keep vanish like this.” You’re not accusing him. Just curious. Jimin is silent for a minute.

“No. But I don’t want you gone Lil.” Admits honestly. You don’t know if you’re fully on board with him. Don’t know what you’re doing. What will happen the next day? Still, you find your hands curling around his back tightly.

“Maybe, there are ways.” Say to yourself more than to him.

……………………………….

Jimin holds you close while his eyes are droopy. You’re already fast asleep but nothing has happened yet. You’re still in his hands. Safe and sound. Peaceful. Jimin doesn’t think he has been this sleepy in his life before. Yet he can’t find it in himself to rest his eyes. Doesn’t want you out of his sight. What if you don’t stay true to your words. What if you lied and never come back. He would deserve it then, wouldn’t he? For being immature. For not knowing how to deal with his own feelings. Figures out shits like an adult. He would deserve to lose you forever for treating you like trash.

When he begged you to stay. He didn’t plan that. He was so sure the best thing is to let you go. When he finally had you. He didn’t plan that either. Was just here because he couldn’t resist the urge anymore. Would’ve regretted it for his whole life if he had never said goodbye. At least didn’t see you for one last time. Nothing had been planned. But here you are. Back in his arms. Snuggle perfectly into his chest. As if that’s the place you should be. He told you half the truth earlier. He blamed you because he was scared of his own mind. What a fucked-up situation it was for him to be jealous of Jungkook, when you said his girlfriend will be permanently erased from this world. He should lose his mind over it. He did lose his mind that day. Not because of that. Because you’re leaving. And that scared the shit out of him.

You were his priority that moment. Not Kim Liya. That’s scary. It’s still scary. You are the priority. What is he going to do now. You agreed to stay. And no matter how stupid it sounded when you said that thing about the wish. There’s a possibility it could work. Then you agreed to use that wish to try and see if you could make everyone’s life better. You agreed to wish for Liya’s normal life while this situation keeps happening to you. Not either of you know if it could work. You and Liya can’t exist in the same world you said. But who’ll know. That’s the final decision you came up with.

Maybe he is jumping on to that pit of fire again. Choosing the wrong path. And he is dragging you with him. See, selfish. Selfish enough to be happy that no matter how hard the future will be, you’ll be in it. Through roughs and softs. Jimin has you. How comforting. To hold you back again after days in hell. Rotting inside his own body. Restless. In pain. Breaking. Going crazy. Hating Jeon Jungkook with passion. Just because he got to have you when Jimin couldn’t. Jimin doesn’t know why he’s being so possessive. What does he want from you? Sex? You? Or is it something else? It doesn’t matter in the end. All that matters is, he has you again.

It's okay if he’s jumping on to fire pits. As long as he can have this. As long as he can have you. He’ll keep choosing the wrong paths. Keep burning in fire pits.

He’ll gladly choose this torture.

The burning pit of fire.

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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dustysalmon · 4 days ago

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 2

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers Word count: 3.6k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Takes up at the end of episode 7.

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter

The last time you had been in the city council building was for your graduation at the enforcer academy, years ago. As you are now led to the hearing room, the place strikes you as immense and comically shallow—just like it did the first time.

Beautiful, no doubt, but empty and cold, devoid of personality and humanity. The archives are the exception. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of them back then, but you had wanted to go back ever since. The immense room was brimming with books, artefacts, and knowledge dating back centuries. Piltover had its share of problems, but it had always been a remarkable city. Hextech had only confirmed that. It transformed the lives of Piltovians for the better, improving transportation, the use of technologies, healthcare. One day, you think to yourself with a smile, you’ll find a way to sneak into that room again. But alas, for now, your current position doesn't allow for such privileges. Your smile fades a little as a large, heavy door opens before you, and you are reminded of why you’re here.

The councillors are in the middle of a heated debate, apparently trying to determine just how tight to close their fist around the undercity’s throat. It has not escaped your notice that the citizens of Piltover were deeply shaken by yesterday’s events. The streets are empty, shipments are being delayed or even cancelled at an alarming rate, and some people have even started leaving the city. Not that you can blame them. The repeated clashes between Silco’s goons and the Firelights have gotten more frequent, just like the assassinations of enforcers. It may have been years, but no one up here or below has forgotten the riots.

You balance yourself on your feet as you wait for the councillors to finish. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. At some point you even wonder if they have noticed your arrival. You gaze absently at the dome-shaped ceiling, calculating how many yous it would take to reach it. So high and out of reach, disconnected. After a long minute, and with swift apologies, Councillor Kiramman gracefully puts you out of your misery. Among the people present, you can safely admit that she is one of the more grounded—well, as grounded as Piltovians can be, but she’s not afraid to swim against the tide when the need arises. Show of proof, you wouldn’t be there otherwise.

She introduces you to the other six members, states your rank, and your part in arresting Jinx. With minute details, you go over the events of the day before, the showdown between the Firelight leader and Jinx, the bombs, and the aftermath. The council has already heard from Caitlyn Kiramman this morning and you confirm Marcus’ betrayal. When councillor Salo inquires about the alleged deal between the late Sheriff and Silco brought forward by Caitlyn, you fail to suppress a light scoff, to the great displeasure of your interlocutor.

"Is there something amusing? Please, indulge us, officer, I do love a good joke in the midst of tragedy."

You clear your throat, arms crossed behind your back. "Respectfully, councillor, a blind man would have seen the connection." Salo fixes you with contempt, but leaves it at that.

"What about the gemstone?" He continues, "Officer Kiramman stated that it was the very reason she was meeting with Marcus, but there’s been no trace of it since then." You display your most convincing expression of surprise.

"I was not privy to the details of that meeting. It was only after my medical check-up this morning that I was made aware of the stone." The councillors exchange disappointed looks across the circular table. It’s been days since Progress Day, when the Hextech technology was stolen. Until last night at least Piltover knew where to look. Now, the Gemstone is in the wind, just about anybody could put their hands on it. True, the chances of this person actually being able to use the Hextech technology are thin but that uncertainty is far from satisfactory to the Council. On top of it all, it represents a tremendous economic hit for Piltover due to the colossal amount of third party investments revolving around Hextech. The city would recover eventually, but its reputation would be tarnished for decades to come.

Council members Medarda and Shoola follow up with more general inquiries about the riots, the protesters, and the arrests. Meanwhile, Bolbok and Hoskel seem more interested in moving on to more economic and trade matters. Jayce Talis, the man of progress himself, has not uttered a single word since you walked in, but his brain is buzzing, and you can see the restlessness in his posture, and the way his jaw tightens each time the others drone on about policies and regulations. Clearly he’d rather be anywhere else, crafting the next jewel of Hextech, running numbers, and solving equations alongside that curious partner of his. He’s not a bureaucrat, and at that particular moment, he’d much rather do the work than simply talk about it.

Councillor Kiramman asks you about the morale of the enforcers deployed. You can’t tell if the concern is genuine, or if this is all just political decorum. Either way, you gladly put in a word for more ample rations, surely that can’t be too much of a dent in the city’s budget.

At last, the interrogatory comes to an end, and a discreet exhale of relief escapes you as each councillor thank you for your service and presence. You are in the middle of excusing yourself when Salo cuts you off.

"One last question, if I may. Multiple witnesses confirm that Silco, the industrialist, was at the scene last night. Why not arrest him too?"

You frown, "On what grounds? The council itself concluded that he runs his…business by the book."

"True," he presses, tone unyielding. "However, after Marcus revealed himself as a traitor, one would think you would have reconsidered Silco’s true role in all this."

Normally, you don’t take kindly to being called dense, especially in front of an audience. But now isn’t the time to let pride get in the way. This testimony is far from routine; you need to tread carefully here. As far as Piltover is concerned, this entire operation is a no show. The city is on edge, its Sheriff exposed as a corrupt traitor, and the gemstone…well, that’s strictly need-to-know. The truth is, Piltover is not looking too sharp at the moment, and neither is the council. They are looking for a scapegoat. All things considered, you’d much rather appear naïve for a few seconds than be caught with the Gemstone in your back pocket.

"I’m an enforcer, not an investigator." You say with a slight shrug. "But I believe that Silco is more valuable to us down there than rotting in Stillwater."

Salo leans forward, curious to hear your input. "And why is that?"

"So far, save for a few dissidents, the people of the undercity have mostly kept to themselves. Enforcer presence at the border is only effective because the other side is not interested in making trouble. Yet. We’re not the ones keeping the undercity in check. And neither are you or your policies. Silco is."

Salo sneers. "And what a marvellous job he’s doing!"

You hold your ground, trying to ignore the mocking laughs rising around the table. "Surely I don’t need to remind you what happens when the underground is really out of control. This is nothing."

"Watch your tone, officer. Don’t forget your place."

You muster every ounce of self-control, taking a deep breath as Councillor Kiramman calls for a bit of decorum. You give her a quick, appreciative nod before continuing, "I made a judgement call, if you wish to punish me for it, that’s entirely up to you. Our orders were to stand watch on the bridges, and make arrests. Nothing more, nothing less."

Salo looks ready to press further, but Councillor Medarda’s patience is running thin as well. "I’m sure there will be no punishments necessary." She offers a composed smile, folding her hands together. "Once again, thank you for your time." She pauses, then seems to remember something important, and her smile sharpens. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Some good news at least. It seems you’ve been promoted." You stare at her, mouth agape and completely thrown off. "My congratulations, Major. You’ll be sure to extend my sympathies to Warren as well."

Of all the things that you expected from this meeting, this wasn’t even part of the honourable mentions. "Warren, ma’am?"

"He will be the city’s new Sheriff, of course."

"Of course." You echo, the words slipping out reflexively as your mind is still reeling. You nod absently, thank the council, and with a final glance around the room, you turn and make your way toward the large doors that the guards are pushing open for you. The corridor outside somehow feels even emptier than before, each step echoing as you replay her words in your mind. Major. You’d walked in here prepared to defend yourself—prepared for the occasional lecturing and patronising, maybe—but a promotion? That hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You decide to go all the way home on foot today—some fresh air might do you some good. So many events in so little time. You sigh. It’s not that you miss your old life—no, you wouldn’t go back for anything. But there was a rhythm to it, a familiarity. You did your part and did it well. Until the sickness made it unbearable. Here, everything feels out of reach, beyond your control. It’s not quite what you imagined. Not that you came to topside with the intent of sparking fundamental change or flipping the narrative. You would gladly call yourself an idealist, but you’re not delusional—something your mother would argue against. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you once thought you could make a difference, but that ship sailed long ago.

Unsurprisingly, the locals have deserted the food market today, much to the traders’ dismay. They linger behind their stalls, looking miserable, surrounded by products that will likely go unsold. Another week of nearly nonexistent pay, and most of this food will end up wasted. Maybe you can profit from that.

You treat yourself to a cheese sandwich and pick up some fruits and fish for the next few days. You approach the bread stall with a tinkle in your eye. A bit of small talk here, a few shared laments about the dire economy there, and you walk away with five huge pieces of brown bread—free of charge. The uniform surely helped a little too.

Taking an enthusiastic bite of your sandwich, you start making your way out of midtown, when you hear someone calling your name in the distance. The smile that spreads across your face as your eyes lock on the massive Vastaya jogging towards you is one of pure joy and excitement.

"Dren! I thought that was you!" You barely have time to set your grocery bags on the floor before strong strong arms lift you off your feet and spin you around. When he finally puts you down, Dren towers over you by at least a foot.

Like most Vastayas of his species, he boasts stunning purplish skin covered by a very thin layer of fur, thick jet-black hair, and vivid fluorescent green eyes—eyes you are convinced are twice as sharp as human ones, though he always denies it. Truth be told, you’re still a little salty about constantly losing shooting contests and training sessions to him. The two of you find the nearest bench and start catching up on everything that’s happened over the past four months or so, while Dren was in training. Eventually, the conversation shifts to the events of the bridge. You keep it brief, doubtful he wants to hear the gruesome details.

"What about you?" You ask, steering the conversation away. After the testimony just minutes ago, you’ve had enough of this topic for the day.

"Well…it’s official." Dren discreetly pulls a shiny paramedic insignia from his satchel. "I was just on my way to headquarters to pick up all my gear." You watch him as he gazes at the small object resting in the palm of his large, clawed hand, his expression transfixed.

"I’m so proud of you. I hope we’ll get to work together again, now that I—" You stop yourself mid-sentence, and Dren is too lost in his own thoughts to notice. This is his moment after all. Besides, the ceremony isn’t even planned yet—plenty of time to share the news.

"How’s Olenna these days?" The question jolts you out of your happy little trance. Dren is part of a very small circle of people who are aware that your relationship with your mother is complicated, to put it gracefully. He knows how painful it is for you to talk about her, but he always asks. He’s unapologetically direct and straightforward like that, which is one of the reasons you like being around him. He challenges you constantly, body and mind.

"Not improving," you admit with a sigh. "Not getting worse, either. At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell." Dren nods silently, his green eyes fixed on you with a disarming attentiveness that always makes you feel both seen and vulnerable. When you don’t elaborate, he pats his hands on his thighs, and rises from the bench.

"Well then, I’m sure a nice dinner will do her some good. Her and you." You chuckle at the remark. It has been an intense few days for sure, and you can physically feel the bags pulling at your eyes and your entire body screaming with fatigue. You part ways after a long hug, him striding towards the university district, you towards the undercity.

They’re still scraping up blood and body parts off the main bridge; you’ll have to make a small detour. The protests have died down significantly, and from experience, you wager it will remain that way for a couple more days. Hopefully, you’ll be able to rest properly for once. You cross the southeast bridge without a hitch, a group of demonstrators throw nasty looks in your direction, but they don’t make any trouble.

As soon as you reach the other side, you smell it. The pungent, heavy atmosphere of the underground. A stench that gives every visitor, foreign or local, a clear picture of what to expect once they enter the undercity. The familiar tang of rust and oil invades your nostrils, and you automatically reach down into your collar to adjust the sensibility on your chemsurge. Here, the smells cling to everything—your clothes, your skin, your very breath. It takes a few showers to get rid of it; you’ve learnt that the hard when you started working in Piltover. All things considered, the promenade level is not so bad. At least the sun is still visible there, faint but persistent, piercing through the cloud of fog hovering menacingly above. But as you descend deeper into the city through endless flights of worn stairs, it gets darker and darker, until your surroundings turn a murky haze of green and brown. The only light comes from the old street lamps lining the path. Their glass casings are grimy and cracked, some sputter and pop as though they might burn out at any moment.

The alleys of entresol are mostly empty at this hour, but they’ll come alive with chatter, the clinking of drinks, and the inevitable clash of street brawls as the evening sets in. The sounds here are already louder, more chaotic. Voices echo through the narrow alleys, overlapping to create an overwhelming cacophony. Your gaze drifts towards the walls that are covered in graffiti. Beautiful murals, meticulously painted to retrace the history and pay tribute to the notable figures of each neighbourhood.

As you make your way through the industrial district, the faint hum of machinery fills the place, a blend of churning and groaning punctuated by the sporadic hiss of steam vents and the distant clatter of pipes. Workers pass by, their clothes stained in grease, sweat and coal. Their faces are weary, marked with exhaustion, yet there is an undeniable air of camaraderie among them. Cables and pipes crisscross above, dripping occasional beads of liquid onto your shoulders or the ground with a soft plink. The pavement beneath your feet is uneven, a patchwork of scavenged stone and scrap metal, slick with oily puddles that reflect the faint glow of the lights.

At last, the distinct reddish roof of your mother’s house comes into view. You step inside, slide your muddy boots off, and leave them on the small doormat right behind the door.

"Ma, I’m home." You announce yourself loudly as you set the groceries down in the kitchen. You put everything away, sliding the items in their proper drawers and cupboard. Your mom is very particular about that. You set two breads aside for yourself before grabbing a large container of water from under the sink. Pouring some into a clean glass, you set it on the wooden table.

Olenna emerges from the dimly lit corridor, her warm sleeping clothes hanging loosely on her frame and a book resting in her hand. "It’s barely noon," she says dryly, pulling herself a seat.

"It was just a routine council meeting," you reply matter-of-factly, your hands reaching for the little compartment that holds her medicines.

"Must be nice for those Pilties," she scoffs, before a heavy coughing fit overtakes her. "They sure don’t push themselves too hard, do they?…You would know."

You ignore her remark and ask, "Is fish porridge okay for today?"

"Oh, it’s okay," she replies, her voice dripping with passive aggression. "Just like it was okay yesterday, and the day before that." You know better than to engage, so you simply place two painkiller tablets in front of her.

"Those things are killing me, you know."

"I’m sure they’re the least of your problems." Her face tightens, clearly offended, and she is about to argue, but you put your hand up.

"Just—" You are used to this ridiculous back and forth, it’s the same charade everyday. "Take the meds." You slide the glass of water across the table and wait. It takes the usual five or six seconds for your mom to give in. Finally, she grabs the pills, shoves them into her mouth, and downs the glass like it’s a shot of fine whiskey. After a few very exaggerated heavy breaths, she stands up. "Okay, I’m ready."

The process is always the same. Olenna sits backwards on the chair, her arms crossed over the backrest while you transfer a small dose of tampered Shimmer in a syringe. The light purple liquid spreads slowly, almost hypnotically. You lift your mother’s shirt up and quickly find the spot along her spine where the needle needs to go. Her body becomes rigid as you empty the content of the syringe all the way through, but it’s very brief. Once you’re all done, you clean everything up and get to cooking.

As usual, most of the dinner is spent in comfortable silence. Occasionally, you’ll try to make small talk. You get a word or two in return, a full sentence if you’re lucky. You smile quietly to yourself as Olenna puts her fork down. She can criticise your cooking all she wants, but she always finishes before you, leaving nothing but a clean plate behind.

You drape your uniform jacket over your shoulders and grab the grocery bag with the bread, calling out from the hallway.

"Goodnight, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"If I haven’t kicked the bucket by then," she shouts back.

"Whatever you say, Ma." You throw one last glance behind you—Olenna is already lost in her book—and head out the door.

Your apartment is just across the street, close enough if anything happens. If your relationship was different, you’d be living with her, of course. But the way things are now, she probably would’ve strangled you to death already—or vice versa. It’s better this way.

Once you’re alone in the quiet of your room, you pull out a small shoe box from under the bed. You open it to reveal the gemstone, nestled in a makeshift padding. Carefully, you take it between your thumb and index finger, rolling it slowly. It’s beautiful by all accounts, and you can’t help but wonder how such a tiny object could cause so much trouble. You’ve turned the problem over in your mind all day, and yet you still don’t know what the hell to do with it. Honestly, you don’t even fully grasp the kind of power you’re holding. You imagine that if Hextech can power up portals, then surely this thing could be used for much more dangerous purposes. But technology was never your strong suit. All you know is that there’s only two people in topside who know how to use Hextech safely—and that is not exactly reassuring.

You glance out the window, barely able to make out anything through the thick green fog in the distance. There are plenty of things about this whole mess that are bothering you, and you intend to get some answers. A little visit to the Last Drop is in order.

#silco #silco x reader #arcane #dusty writes

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from-the-clouds · 1 year ago

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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melis-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 42 – Matrimony.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 41 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a Corleone woman now, after all." / “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

You married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949, binding the allyship of your two families together but sealing your matrimony with love, bliss and trust. Falling in love, compatibility, love languages and a change in your lifestyle met you in an instant, and being Mrs. Michael Corleone altered your life forever. You can still remember how you fell for him and every bit of affection and intimacy shared from the beginning. You remember; you remember it all, and as you look into the past to compare it to your present and expect for your future, you realize nothing remains changed.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of virginity/loss of virginity, nudity, sexual themes & depictions, heavy touching & kissing, fingering, mentions of pregnancy & planning for children, sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The first in-between chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II is finally here!! 😫🙏🏻 I'm sooo sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter, but life has been extremely hectic and busy. 😭 The Vichael girlies are going to adore this chapter is all I'm going to say! We delve into Victoria and Michael's marriage from the very beginning! 🤭❤️‍🔥 This is filled with romance, fluff and domestic wholesomeness. How Victoria and Michael fell in love to how their lives changed as husband and wife and more is all included. I wanted this to be very romantic and sensual before we dive back into the action of current day Moth to Flame! 😳

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Bouquets of pink and white roses, white silk, lilac adornments, angel food cake, the lace finishing over your wedding gown, and the taste of Michael’s lips over yours; you married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949.

Planning for your wedding was one of the few and only times in your life when you felt you had a million things going through your mind at once.

After weeks of careful planning, the hardest part—the wedding itself—came in bliss and resonated perfectly with everything you had in mind for your perfect wedding day.

The colors you chose for your wedding ranged from an equal hint of décor in baby pink, lilac, and beige, whereas peonies, lilacs, and dahlias were your flowers of choice.

Silk tablecloth, handcrafted Italian furniture imported from Sicily, seven-tier angel food cake, seven varieties of cannoli from pistachio to limoncello, over a hundred bottles of wine—Grilo, Inzolia and Grecanico just to name a few—aged at least ten years, French champagne, little pastries of sorbets and mini cheesecakes served throughout and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit from the Corleone garden itself were just some of the highlights of your wedding day.

Even your wedding gown itself had been custom designed and tailored with the finest Italian silks and fabrics, following a lengthy session of perfecting your hair, makeup, and manicure with your mother, Mama Corleone, Connie, and Sandra down to rehearing how you would walk down the aisle to which sets of jewelry with diamonds and pearls suited you best.

Everything was planned and executed to perfection—to say the least. Scarcely were there moments throughout the planning period where the wedding wasn’t mentioned in one way or another; it was the only topic on your mind for days to come.

Consummation of your marriage was expected next from all through tradition and customs, but it wasn’t a concept you and Michael personally believed in.

Although you were a virgin before you met Michael, he most certainly was not. After his brief marriage with Apollonia, the concept of no intimacy until marriage let alone time spent together or some form of physical affection before marriage was seen and strictly enforced as heavily taboo in Sicily only reminded him of how backward he believed the concept to be, as did you.

Of course, you and Michael were both anticipating and thinking about the intimacy you’d share with one another after your wedding celebration, but not immediately after. That would be eagerly waiting for the both of you at the end of the night.

With the wedding cake having been cut, final drinks served and last dances shared, both of your families collected together all of the bridal gifts, thanked and said goodbyes to every guest they could get to while the wedding staff began to clean up.

Michael and you stood for more photographs by and with guests, thanking them for attending as well before you both made off with security to the vehicle that would take you to your first estate.

You’d both arrive at your new estate by the time security did a full sweep and search of the Corleone manor and all festivities had officially come to an end.

Before you and Michael would settle down for the remainder of the day after the wedding, you both went to meet with your families and new in-laws.

Tomorrow morning there’d be the wedding reception to look forward to after all, but there was more than enough for both you and Michael to think about and do before then.

Upon stepping out of your chauffeur’s vehicle at your new estate’s grounds, the first thing your eyes found were those of your bodyguards surrounding your new estate.

Noting the heavy yet inconspicuous security around, it was only a split second longer before you blinked and a warm smile crossed over your lips in reaction to Michael standing by your side; his hand laced with yours as you both began to make your way inside the estate.

Just a few feet from the front door you could already hear the cheerful voices and banter of your parents and in-laws in the foyer; you couldn’t help but feel your exhilarated mood amplify with excitement once more.

“Victoria! Michael! Sweetheart!” Your mother beamed, extending her arms out as she skipped over to the both of you.

Hugged, congratulated a dozen more times, and kissed by your parents and new-in-laws, happy tears are shed once again for you and Michael as a newlywed couple.

“Promettimi che mi chiamerai se ti serve qualcosa!” (Promise me you'll call if you need anything!) Carmela gently squeezed your shoulder after pulling away from a hug, smiling at you.

“Home sweet home,” your mother cooed, bewildered by the grandiose luxury your new estate has to offer just by standing in the foyer alone. “How wonderful.”

“We’re looking forward to that wedding reception,” your father grinned, redirecting his gaze to Michael. “It’ll be an honor to dine in the newlyweds’ home.”

“It’s an honor to host,” Michael agreed, giving a small, quick smile. “I look forward to it, Don Ferrari.”

“Mm,” Vito nodded, approaching both you and Michael. “And the bridal gifts… I had them arranged to be placed in your guest room. Humble gifts as they may be from our family friends, but they’re close to overflowing.”

“A problem I’d actually like to deal with,” you giggled back. “Thank you, father.”

Naturally, the gifts you received from attending friends, family, and guests aren’t exclusive to gifts newlyweds would benefit from, but a wide variety of items ranging from cash bills to jewelry almost as if the givers were trying to appease you and Michael directly.

Without even having to look inside all of the bridal purses and open each individual gift, you already assumed to yourself there are thousands of dollars worth of gifts there alone waiting for you and Michael that may very well take days to completely open.

Your families deliberately didn’t stay for long to give you and Michael as much privacy as possible today, and you and Michael were more than happy to see them out with waves and smiles before settling down for the rest of the day.

“It’s not over for them,” Michael commented by the gates of the estate, loosening his tie.

“No, it isn’t,” you let out a light laugh, smoothening down your wedding gown. “Not until after the wedding reception, at least.”

Michael chuckled—a rare first time he’s in a somewhat lighthearted mood for the entirety of the day. “Do you need anything, darling?”

“No,” you blushed, gesturing down to your dress. “Only to get this lovely gown off of me in one piece and my makeup at last.”

Just a split second later, you both heard a sharp whistle come towards the gates of the estate which prompted you and Michael’s attention immediately.

“Hey, Mikey!” Sonny hollered from the gates, leaning against his car and waving at both of you. “No invitations for Tom, Fredo, and I to see the new place, eh? Come on down!”

“I’ll be right with you,” Michael glanced back at you.

You nodded understandingly, relieved you’ll at least get the time to quickly undress and take off your makeup before finally getting to spend some time alone with Michael, and you’re more than happy to have Michael bond with his brothers before retiring for the rest of the day with you too.

The endless amounts of gifts and stuffed bridal purses crossed your mind once more as you entered the estate, imagining you and Michael would more than likely have to get Tom to secure any precious assets or cash bills while the other items remain secure.

You carefully slipped out of your wedding gown and let the lacy, tulle fabric pool at your feet as you grabbed a white, silk nightgown to step into; careful not to let any of your makeup smear against the fabric.

You’re not one to wear a full face of makeup on any regular day, but outings, special events, and evenings—especially your wedding—remain exceptions each time you enjoyed getting dolled up, but your daily beauty routine only consisted of your normal skincare steps, light eye makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

Upon Michael’s return inside the estate and to the bedroom to undress and unwind, it was his first time gazing upon your face without any makeup as you cautiously stored your nightgown away in an empty closet.

You hadn’t even noticed Michael’s eyes on you at first but picked up on his presence immediately; right then and there, Michael had found himself admiring your beauty and looks, stunned by your natural appearance.

“More congratulations?” You smiled shyly, turning around to face your new husband.

“Something like that,” Michael answered, tossing his tie onto the edge of the bed. “Nothing we both haven’t heard enough of.”

You held back your laughter, “then I hope you don’t mind I retired my glamor for the night already.”

“Not at all,” a ghost of a smile crossed Michael’s lips as he slowly began to approach you. “I’m sure the bridal gifts have nothing but your name on them, after all. I don’t think I need to go and see for myself.”

“Oh, please,” you felt a blush stinging your cheeks as you gazed up at Michael.

“You look beautiful,” Michael murmured, tilting your chin up to face him. “You know that?”

Your skin gave a healthy glow under the evening light as Michael admired every inch of you from the shape of your cheekbones to the color of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and your body language towards him filled with desire.

You expected then and there for Michael to lean in and kiss you, and he did, but gently upon your forehead as he let his warm lips linger over your skin.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and embraced your husband, taking in the scent of his heavenly cologne as your heart began to race in your chest against his.

“You should expect all of this, you know,” Michael spoke to you in an ushered voice. “You’re a Corleone woman now, after all. Those gifts want nothing more than to appease and impress you, I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Michael’s intention is to spoil you to no avail and not only with material gifts but your every request; the luxurious lifestyle you can expect to live with him as Michael’s wife and the future mother of his children holds you on a separate pedestal next to being Don Ferarri’s wife, and Michael will continue to keep it that way.

The very gifts with your name engraved upon them awaiting you consisted of everything from cosmetics, luxurious perfumes, oils, and creams, full sets of dazzling jewelry set with diamonds and precious stones, congratulatory letters, towel sets followed by pacifiers, bibs, baby bottles, and cloth diapers that made you blush as you unwrapped them—knowing all would be expecting the news of your first pregnancy next.

An amused look crossed Michael’s eye as he wrapped his arms around you seeing you open the final present for today a set of two pacifiers, he saw a look of excitement over your own expression but also blush spreading over your cheeks as the two of you made eye contact once again, knowing the rest of the night began to the both of you.

The first home you and Michael owned together and settled in was a grand estate in Long Island but outside of the Corleone mall unlike Connie and Carlo’s home and that of Sonny and Sandra’s that were inside the gated family community.

Still, your new home was not far from Michael’s family or yours, and you could make the commute in twenty minutes.

The plot of land in which your new estate would be built was purchased immediately on the day of your engagement ceremony with construction where your father and Vito had given the green light for construction to begin the day of.

Normally for the size of your estate, it would have taken a good construction crew six months with daily work, but the home was completely finished in just one. Bringing in extra of the best workers and paying a premium always worked well in the end.

Your grand estate stood at just slightly over five thousand square feet with state-of-the-art architecture, taking inspiration from Modern American design to Italian fixtures and marble imported from Rome.

Your estate was two stories, finished with an attic consisting of a master bedroom with a walk-in closet designed to be almost the size of a small bedroom for you and Michael, a study that was half a private library, two guest rooms downstairs, a nursery upstairs, a wine room in the basement, full front and back yard, three other extra bedrooms, an office for Michael and four bathrooms.

A mid-sized swimming pool was built in the backyard where your home’s carefully curated and trimmed garden surrounded the sides and fences protected your family’s privacy so one could neither look into the estate grounds nor out of it.

Twenty-four-hour surveillance was always to be expected with varying bodyguards and a careful selection of specific windows—such as the ones in Michael’s office—were selected and built to be soundproof.

Your bathtub had 24k gold claw-finished, quartz countertops as well as in the kitchen, marble floors, a foyer in the front of the estate fit with a French handcrafted chandelier, a private exit to the gardens and plenty of storage with a full laundry room at the end of the hallway downstairs.

Crown fixtures adorned the kitchen and a wide spiral staircase decorated with a blood-red carpet led upstairs to where one of two hidden emergency exits only you and Michael knew how to activate could be found.

The price of your home came to a grand total of $250,000 and was exactly where you and Michael wanted to be; exactly where the two of you planned to start your family and raise your children.

Michael and you had both grown up in Long Island; meaning nothing short of symbolic with the feel of home settling into your first house in New York together.

You and Michael only had a brief discussion about where your first home could be since the two of you came to an agreement so quickly to choose Long Island to stay in.

At the time, thoughts of buying another home elsewhere or even moving in the future were not on your mind although Michael had begun to think of Nevada and a villa in Sicily almost immediately on; the latter being a familiar and mutually agreed upon idea to you.

Of course, both you and Michael’s family knew just as well as the both of you why you didn’t have a honeymoon after your wedding, and there were no questions asked or teasing to be made.

Going on a honeymoon with Michael after your wedding was in your mind just as much as your wedding was, but the same could not be said for Michael who was much too preoccupied with the danger and threat of another family war, especially with hostility coming from the Ricci family.

Going outside of New York—let alone going to Sicily—would paint a clear, red target over both your and Michael’s backs and especially create vulnerability within the Corleone family considering Vito was semi-retired at the time.

It didn’t matter if you and Michael decided to visit Rome, Venice, or anywhere else in Italy just for the sake of visiting home but staying away from Sicily; the mafia families including the Ricci’s still had power stretching there legitimately.

Naturally, both you and Michael yearned to take a true honeymoon trip to Sicily and Sicily only. Even with the rest of the world as a choice to visit, you would have rather continued to postpone your honeymoon until you could safely visit Sicily again without having to worry about anything but how to spend quality time with your husband.

You’d very well have your honeymoon with Michael a little after your first anniversary together, somewhat defeating the purpose of a true honeymoon but with the threat of your lives and your family on the line, it was all very worth it with a legitimate reason to delay.

In Michael’s second marriage now come hell or high water he would never risk a slight chance of you being anywhere where there’s a notion of danger, even if you begged him to.

“Well,” you bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand.”

“I know, darling,” Michael raised his water glass to his lips, taking a sip. “I feel no different than you do.”

You brushed your fingers against the fabric of the window’s curtains and glanced over to Michael again. “They’ll know, won’t they?”

Michael’s eyes met with yours almost instantly; his expression appeared grim knowing you referred to the Ricci family, but with the Barzinis and Tattaglias to worry about as well.

“As they do,” Michael replied and set his glass down. “Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head and faced the window—blushing as you felt Michael’s presence approach you from behind. “But it’s been on my mind again and again these past few weeks. I can’t shake it off.”

“And on mine,” Michael lovingly embraced you from behind and lightly pressed his chest against your back. “As much as I would like to degrade them to such, they’re not animal enough to disgrace a wedding, even without an invite.”

“They should know better,” you murmured under your breath.

“And they more than likely do,” Michael nodded and moved his hands down to your hips to tenderly caress them. “None of those men deserve further justifications, but above all, they’re curious about you, and just who you are.”

You placed your hands over Michael’s and gave them a soft squeeze as you remained quiet.

“If it’s about safety—” Michael began.

“I feel safe with you,” you told him as you turned around.

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours as he gave you a small nod; you swore to yourself for a moment that you could see a glimmer of a brief smile over his plush lips.

“I do,” you continued, “always. And as you can guess…” You blushed sheepishly, “I was thinking about our honeymoon too, and we can’t even go.”

“We will soon enough,” Michael rubbed up and down your arms gingerly. “When we are able to and when we can. You know it’s not something I want to put aside to forget or neglect.”

“I know, baby,” you smiled back shyly. “I believe you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Michael lowered his tone of voice and pressed a warm kiss over your forehead. “I promise I will. None of what our family is going through now will last. I personally guarantee it,” as Michael moved back from the kiss, he tilted your chin up to gaze directly into his eyes. “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

Blushing furiously and feeling a wave of butterflies rush to the pit of your stomach, you nodded at Michael before leaning up to give his lips a sweet kiss.

“I’ll wait until you say we can go,” you whispered against his lips as you wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“Until then,” Michael murmured and closed off the distance between both of your bodies, ensnaring you in a deep kiss once more.

Michael’s changed lifestyle to a mafioso and your continued one as a mafiosa would never change. You both married one another knowing what your lives are and would continue to be, but also remaining unaltered.

You’re a lawyer, after all, and a skilled prosecutor with a name made for herself—reputation and all—in New York. Your career is more than something you see to corrupt and use for your “family business”, but is also a passion; something you want to continue doing until you feel ready to retire.

Michael was always impressed as to how you were able to find a passionate career that also benefited both sides of the family business.

Through being a lawyer, you also bonded well with Tom and had another fellow lawyer as a brother-in-law to bond with.

Regardless of whether you and Michael choose to have one child a fear down the line or four back to back, Michael has no intention of interfering in your career or keeping you from it; the same can be said for any of your other passions and hobbies.

You already know your maternity leave from work and raising an infant will take priority in your life which will result in a break from work, but you’ve accepted it and will make it happen.

Perhaps if you weren’t a mafiosa yourself from a powerful crime family, you would have fit the bill as a mafioso’s housewife better but Michael recognizes your true talents and abilities just as well as you know yourself.

Now married, you attend trials and continue with your cases at most three times a week. After all, you’ve always been careful in choosing which cases to get involved in while maintaining a flexible schedule for yourself.

You built a reputation with your prowess this far without Michael and his family’s influence, which begs the question of what Michael’s lifestyle has become after marrying you.

Michael is always working, even when he’s not. More than ever, Michael spends time with his father and brothers. Even when Michael is alone in his own office, he’s talking over the phone to his men or family and constantly keeping himself preoccupied until he’s with you.

Michael’s unwavering dedication to the family business, his loyalty, and his work ethic don’t bother you. As a matter of fact, it’s everything you expected from Michael and saw coming before you married him.

What you love about Michael’s work with the family business is that he can separate it and he will separate it very well from his personal life.

Michael does not mention anything related to his work when he’s with you regardless of how casual the circumstances or if your own curiosity arises since your family is also almost always involved.

You know then and only in those scenarios would you ask Michael a question if you had one and your family could not answer; you know your boundaries and where the line remains when asking Michael about his work.

To Michael, any mention of what he does and what he is outside of work is nothing but severely unpleasant and he would rather avoid it altogether; something you respect and agree with.

At dinner one evening, you saw Michael’s tension settled within him as he ate—sitting across from you in silence.

Michael sighed quietly and took a sip of his red wine before his eyes met yours; seeing curiosity spark in your expression.

“Ready to settle down, baby?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Something like that,” Michael nodded, continuing to eat his risotto.

“Everything alright with your father?” You asked and rose up from your seat to begin cleaning up.

“He’s fine,” Michael’s answers were dry and to the point on purpose. “We’re working on it.”

“Alright,” you gathered a pile of empty plates, brushing off crumbs upon the tablecloth next to Michael.

Only a split second later did you look back up at Michael and catch his eye—almost feeling embarrassed for asking but you neither see annoyance nor discomfort in Michael’s expression.

You understood Michael didn’t want to talk about this with you and you didn’t push it. You also knew last night he didn’t come home from his father’s estate until 2 AM, and you had no intention of bothering him about it now.

You’ve always had more than enough to do for yourself and for the home regardless of how long Michael worked in or out of the manor.

You’d have your own day to worry about; cleaning up after breakfast, prepping for lunch, tidying up the house, laundry if required, getting any other daily errands done, focusing on a bit of your own work projects, then relaxing with a good book or in front of the television with a glass of wine.

You could step out into the garden for some fresh air, pull weeds, water the lawn, go for a walk or a dip in the pool; you balance your work and life well and you’ve never felt neglected or lost without a sense of purpose.

The compatibility between you and Michael is like none other and the two of you have always recognized this; there is no lack of transparency or intimacy, and there is no elephant in the room blocking the two of you from bonding with one another.

You and Michael could and always will make it work.

When it came down to planning to start a family with each other, having children was brought up immediately between Michael and you; a crucial concept and the second step into a married life with one another.

Of course, the brief conversation that only consisted of asking one another if you wanted children when you and Michael had first met did not count as a real and insightful conversation, it did strike you that Michael was a mature and serious man, ready for fatherhood and expecting to start a family in the very near future.

Michael would not have minded waiting a year or two before having children, but he would personally not wish to delay it any further past that.

To Michael, it was as if he had an urgency of some kind to start a family but there was no reasoning behind it or pressure coming from anyone. Still, you came to appreciate how much Michael anticipated entering parenthood with you, regardless of his reasons.

Perhaps you did sense Michael’s urgency when he first met you and asked if you wanted to have children in the future, but you simply had brushed it off for all that it was—a simple question.

You were twenty-five years old when you met Michael, and you were the second youngest sibling in your family and the only daughter.

With your little brother Dante being fifteen years younger than you, you practically raised him alongside your brothers and because you came from an equally large extended family, you loved children for as long as you could remember.

Just as you and your brothers had grown up, you knew the importance of proper parenting and how love would mold a child’s life forever.

Michael believed children were the products of their parents’ discipline, love, and behavior, saying, “If adults can bring out the worst in each other, they can do the same for children”.

Michael himself was twenty-nine when he met you and neither of you had objections of any kind to starting a family immediately after getting married.

Coming from the families and reputations you both grew up in and had, things such as time and money would simply not be an issue for you and Michael.

It was more of a matter of readiness and active parenting heavily required from both of you equally, not just yours as the mother.

You also knew Michael would be a stricter parent than you, but this did not imply anything harsh or along the lines of cruelty whatsoever.

Michael is not the type of man to ever raise a hand against a child or even raise his voice; calm, and collected, and with thorough explanation comes discipline and understanding. Michael knows how a child’s mind copes and works.

You are most definitely not the kind of parent to yell, threaten, let alone glare at children to have them respect or tolerate your fear let alone beat a child.

Neither Michael nor you ever faced such things growing up, but you both saw your fair share growing up with other children at school and in the neighborhood who did not have the same childhood as you two did.

Any type of abuse or psychological manipulation was a severe hard line; it was something you and Michael would never subject any child to, ever.

From being the only big sister to your little brother Dante, you knew there were a million ways around teaching and disciplining children without being physically, psychologically, or verbally abusive—even to children who have behavior issues.

You and Michael had been stressing to yourselves subconsciously the need to be nothing but good, loving parents teaching your future children manners and discipline early on without fear of repercussions or pain, but simply just to learn and understand.

Just a week ago you walked down the aisle and faced your lover—for the last time only as a lover before becoming Michael’s wife, wedded as Mrs. Corleone.

Now as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the role of Michael Corleone’s wife had already truly embedded in you; seeing your husband clasping a new diamond necklace around your neck gently.

You blushed as you caught Michael’s eye in the mirror, placing a hand over your necklace carefully.

Michael admired the glistening diamonds over your neck; his eyes adoring the very shape of your collarbones before he leaned toward your shoulder and planted a soft kiss over it.

With a bit of arousal having flared up in you, you shivered from Michael’s warm touch as he let his hands linger around the back of your neck before he placed them on your hips.

“Mm,” your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the brief moment, feeling Michael’s breath over the side of your neck.

Michael’s hands slowly made their way over to your stomach where he rubbed tenderly, watching as your body language submitted to how good he was already making you feel.

“Are you late?” Michael murmured over your shoulder.

Butterflies churned in your stomach and blush stung your cheeks at the very question. “I think it’s still too soon to tell, baby.”

“Mm,” Michael nodded and began to massage your sides.

“Why do you ask?” You slowly opened your eyes and spoke to him in a soft, ushered tone. “Do you suspect I am?”

“Perhaps,” Michael answered, “I want to be the first to know.”

You cracked a shy smile, “and you will be without a doubt.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael took your hands in his, turning you around to face him directly before he pulled you into his embrace. “Although you never did tell me how many you wanted.”

“I can tell you now,” you rested your head over Michael’s chest and nodded. “Four little ones… That would be something.”

“Mhmm,” Michael kissed the top of your head. “A topic better suited for the future after we have our first.”

“Boy or girl?” You grinned and looked up at your husband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael told you. “But ultimately a son somewhere down the line to succeed our family.”

‘Of course.’ You knew it must have been the same with Michael’s father as it was with yours; one son at the very least to carry the family’s legacy under his name. ‘Understandable.’

“If you’re not…” Michael’s hands touched your hips again; his eyes beckoning to you. “Then we can try again.”

“And again?” You teased back, giggling. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Michael murmured and pulled your hips into his.

“As many times as we need to, hmm?” Your breath hitched as you bit down on your lip.

“As many times as you want to,” Michael corrected before he sealed a kiss over your lips.

The intimacy and love continuing to blossom between you and Michael unfolded in feverish desire and yearning. Like the beginning of an eternal and dangerous addiction, neither of you could get enough of the other.

Michael knew your love language was physical affection and words of affirmation just as you knew he was spending quality time with you and touching.

Michael couldn’t care less for material gifts and preferred experiences above all, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t care, enjoy, or appreciate either.

“Ah…” A breathy moan escaped your lips as your hand clutched over Michael’s back; feeling his firm, flexing muscle as Michael remained leaning down and hovering over your naked body.

Between the sounds of Michael’s lips leaving a trail of hot kisses over your neck, you heard his breathing hitching as his throbbing erection pressed against your stomach.

Barely a week into your marriage and filled to the brim with insatiable love and desire, Michael was unable to get enough of his new bride and her beauty.

“Ohhh…”

Inhaling deeply, Michael took in your scent as he nuzzled your neck; now glowing pink with the love marks he left behind as you had let your free hand roam through Michael’s tousled hair.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered against your lips as he grazed his thumb over your mouth, parting your bottom lip. “Look at me when I make love to you.”

‘Oh God, yes…’

The first three months of marriage may as well have been a fever dream for both of you.

Of course, none would be surprised at the sudden stamina the new bride and groom have for one another although some teasing and a dirty joke here and there would be in order, but if it wasn’t a night out or quality time spent with the family, Michael and you were doing nothing else but getting lost in one another again and again.

You’d lay in bed naked with the blankets barely covering yourself as you’d watch Michael strip down right in front of you before approaching you on the bed, and Michael enjoyed every second of undressing you himself with his own hands; the way the curves of your hips and fullness of your thighs felt against his hand as your skin was hot to the touch, brimming with passion and your body begging for pleasure was nothing short of ecstasy to Michael.

With your bodies intertwined with one another, you could practically feel Michael’s heart racing against yours; nothing but toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and memorizing every part of each other’s bodies filled your evenings for days to come.

You woke an urge tailored to your pleasure inside of Michael he could not ignore. Even after a night of ecstasy, if you approached him half-naked in the living room and begged Michael to fuck you again, he wouldn’t say no.

You straddled Michael’s lap and let your lace panties slip off your ankles as you felt the smooth, Italian silk fabric of Michael’s suit brush against your bare skin.

On his lap, you let out a whimpering moan as you pressed your hips against his and ran your hands up Michael’s half-unbuttoned dress shirt; his chest hair brushing past your fingers as you clutched onto his shoulders.

Michael leaned his back against his seat comfortably; his hands ran from your calves to your upper thighs before he cupped your ass and gave it a greedy squeeze.

Michael’s eyes expectantly looked at you. “You play the innocent, sweet role well…”

“Mm—” You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Michael’s neck from him giving your ass another harsh squeeze.

“But I see right through it,” Michael whispered to you—his tone low and husky.

“I…” You breathed shakily against Michael’s skin before planting a deep kiss over it; your free hand roamed through his black, silky hair.

You heard a barely audible, soft moan escape Michael’s lips which only intensified the feverish arousal coursing through your veins as you continued to hungrily kiss up and around Michael’s neck.

Michael wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his hand over your ass; his eyes half remained half-opened as he let you get lost within him, taking and getting everything you want.

Your kisses grew wet, hot, and sloppy around Michael’s jawline as you moaned through them yourself; severely aroused to the point where you thought your wetness pooling over the fabric of your panties was soaking through Michael’s trousers.

“Mine…” You cupped Michael’s cheek and turned his face to look him in the eye directly. “All mine…”

“Yours,” Michael said back before his lips sealed over yours in a crushing, needy kiss.

Your pussy throbbed from arousal over Michael’s knee; it practically had a heartbeat of its own from how horny you were feeling towards your husband—so much so that it was almost criminal.

“Look at you,” As Michael pulled away from the kiss, he gripped your throat with his free hand and let his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “Can’t get your hands off of me.”

“You’re mine,” you panted back and took Michael by pleasant surprise as you licked his thumb. “

“That’s right, baby,” Michael murmured before pulling you back to him by your throat to give you another wet, rough kiss over the mouth.

As you fully straddled Michael’s lap and began to slowly grind your hips, gyrating them against Michael’s pulsating erection, Michael let his hands slip up through your skirt and play with the band of your panties.

Lost in insistent, passionate kisses, Michael pulled at your panties only to let it snap back against your skin as you were distracted between his lips.

Michael let his fingers go further, parting your dewy pussy lips to spread your wetness with one hand while squeezing your breast and massaging your nipple with his fingers on the other.

Aside from such fiery, mutual infatuation and lust, there was more; there was and always will be more.

The love between you and Michael blossomed so naturally that it could never feel forced like it was some sort of obligation that had to be fulfilled.

In public, despite the two of you being not so fond of blatant displays of affection, held hands or had Michael wrap an arm over your waist in casual but adoring affection you craved and yearned for always.

Just one touch from Michael—let alone his presence—was more than enough for you. It did nothing but thrill you all the more knowing this man is yours and you’re his; you’ll have all of Michael whenever you want and however you want.

Distance makes your heart grow fonder when Michael’s away on his business trips or doesn’t come home for a night. You’ve never felt insecurity, unsafe, or any sort of lingering sadness about Michael’s consistent absences to begin with.

Even at the end of a long night with little time to yourselves to follow another eventful one, you’d have just the same satisfaction in Michael’s embrace without the sexual intimacy.

Some of your most loving, romantic nights with Michael were the two of you skin-to-skin on the rooftop, naked and exchanging soft kisses as Michael smoked a cigarette.

Saying, “Yes, I do” and signing your marriage papers, your legal name became Victoria Ferrari Corleone; a unique love and lover to Michael in the sense that Michael could never treat you the way he treated Apollonia or Kay, but exponentially more protective, loving, and open to you in all aspects.

Your compatibility with Michael only resulted in him being all the more open with you; not feeling obligated to because you’ll get upset or ask, but because Michael wishes to—because he wants to.

There’s simply no entitlement; only love and caring. You could not describe your marriage to Michael Corleone in any other way.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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centrally-unplanned · 2 months ago

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I blogged before about this company, Orange, that is an AI-powered manga translation company. Essentially, their pitch is that most manga is still (officially) untranslated, a ton of manga gets made after all but few become mainstream enough to get ported overseas. They posit the barrier to that is the cost of translation; if they could automate that process, then they can make viable for release what previously was not. That concept rests on two questions - does the tech pan out, and does the economics add up?

Recently they went live, under the name Emaqi, so we can better explore those questions. What I notice on first glance is the pitch seems to have shifted a little bit in post:

You are not the translators of Vinland Saga, Witch Hat Atelier, or Magic Knight Rayearth, very obviously so. They have Sailor Moon in here lol. These are just the official translations being cross-listed into their "manga platform", where you buy it there and it lives, DRM-locked, in their app. Which is fair enough as a model, that is just Kindle, it works. Though Kindle and a dozen others already exist, so their value-add has to be the AI translation stuff right? That is why I would choose this over another app.

Which they do have, though it is kind of buried:

"Only on emaqi" - there is no mention of the translation approach, poor guys! Can't fault the branding decision I guess given the state of the discourse. When it comes to the products themselves, I went through ~6 or so of the sample chapters of different manga, did a few spot checks with the original Japanese, and read the reviews of some others who looked into it. They seem fine! I am cautiously impressed, I think there proofers did a good job smoothing out some edges, it has a "manga tone", and while small issues like the hyphenation the reviewer above mentioned do exist and are legit noticeable, they aren't common and not a huge deal. It has flow issues? Some dialogue should link together in how it is written, but doesn't. But it isn't crazy off or anything. You will not be wowed by these, but certainly if you are someone who reads bootleg scanlations you are gonna have no problems. A lot of manga uses pretty simple vocab and isn't breaking new ground on plot, I can see how a purpose-built tool could handle it well enough.

The economics though...here is where I don't think this case was ever going to pencil out and isn't now. Because I am pretty sure no one here has heard of any of the manga listed above as exclusives. (I saw 90's manga Geobreeders in there, but that was already partially translated in the 2000's, not sure if they did a new one? Setting it aside) Which, of course you haven't, if you had it probably would have been translated! Books are a 90:10 market, most books never get read and some books get read a ton. Anything big enough can justify a professional translation, and the other can't really sell to begin with.

On top of that, their model is mass translation; which means these obscure manga are presented to you with no context, no hype, no build-up. Wtf is The Blood Blooms In the Barrens?? See, if you were like a boutique publisher, selecting "the best of the best" in untranslated manga, you would promote your specific product. Interviews, social media, the value of the brand-itself as a quality seal. Publishing less is more, actually, your value as a publisher is as a quality selector. Or you could be say the porn market, where you max quantity so people can search "foot fetish breeding kink oshi no ko" and get results; they know what they want. But they aren't doing either! And to be blunt a lot of these are not gonna sell on their art alone:

I'm not mocking The Delayed Highschool Life of a Laborer here, that is better than I could do; but if you want to me spend money on a whim the bar is high and these don't reach it. Which of course they don't, they would be professionally translated if they did.

And finally, the price - $5 dollars, for volume 1's, like a 100-200 pages. The cross-listed manga typically sells for ~$10? That isn't much cheaper! If "translation" was this big cost barrier, and all you got is cutting the price of ebooks in half, I don't know if the analysis was so solid. This is a new product, I doubt they are overcharging to make a quick buck right now - this is the "sell at cost to scale" era.

In all of their lead up press they would say things like this:

Orange's process uses AI to read the manga through image analysis and character recognition, then to translate the words into English, Chinese and other languages. The technology is specialized for manga, meaning it is able to handle wordplay and other difficult-to-translate phrases. A human translator then makes corrections and adjustments. The process can deliver a manga translation in as little as two days. Orange will work with multiple Japanese publishers. The company looks initially to complete 500 translations monthly.

But this is missing a lot of context. For one, these manga are simple high school or battle manga that are ~200 pages long, many of those pages have only a few lines of dialogue, etc. Imagine you are a professional translator, and you are given that manga to translate, all the set-up done for you, all you gotta do is write. How long do you think that would take? Not that long! It could probably take like a week if it's actually all you did (calc'd from a 10k word count manga volume, 2k is a typical "good translator" per day count - many manga are shorter than that). And note how they said "as little as two days" - not median two days! Just, you know, aspirationally.

Translation is just not a big bottleneck. You gotta do layouts, lettering, proofs, etc, these can all take just as much time - and are being done by people, they still need wage workers doing all this. But that is small fry in comparison to publishing contracts, author approvals, distribution, all of that. And most importantly, product acquisition - you have to get authors to sign with you! That can be months of work. I am sure they are trying to get bulk agreements with publishers and such, but authors will push back on that, this is not an easy endeavor.

Which is why, in above, they say they hope to have "500 translations monthly". And after a year+ of work, on launch, they have...

...18. As best I can tell at least, their site deliberately obfuscates what they actually translated versus are just hosting for resale after all.

So yeah, as mentioned I don't think the economics pencil out. These aren't worth $5 dollars, they can't actually generate volume that makes "massive economies of scale" actually valuable, and their approach is currently antithetical to the idea of generating traction for any of their individual works. Niche publishing just doesn't work this way.

But it is early days, and hey I respect the experiment! I do think the tech is pretty good, and it is nice to see a company showcase it. It isn't quite good enough yet for prime time, but it could get there. I do want more manga to get exposure and audience; I will give a fair shake to any who try.

#animanga-as-industry analysis #the quest for tab zero

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wordstome · 1 year ago

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Shrike pt. 3 - who we are

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, she/her pronouns, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander, absolute tooth rotting fluff, corny as hell towards the end

2.8k words

tw: physical and emotional abuse, violence (chokehold, stabbing, throat slitting)

Hello to everyone reading this from my main blog! In case you haven't seen the pinned post on bucca2, this is my new writing blog. Everything I publish will be here on wordstome now. Please feel free to unfollow bucca2 and follow me here!

also PARIS PALOMA TEASED HER NEW SONG "DRYWALL" JUST FOR SHRIKE CHAPTER 3 SPREAD THE WORD

[PART 1] [PART 2 (PREV)] [MASTERLIST]

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

When you’re in total darkness, your eyes adjust. You can see everything around you, but it’s all devoid of color. Then when the light turns on, it blinds you, but it’s better to be blinded momentarily than to live in the dark forever.

That’s how it feels as you prepare to travel home. To escape. You’re antsy, excited and petrified at the same time. Before, it felt like the days flew past in a murky haze. Now, even the seconds crawl.

It feels like moving in a dream, like you’ll wake up any day now and it will all be taken away from you. Your hope, your new dreams for the future, your König.

A shiver runs through you. Where did “your König” come from?

When you’re not occupied with the anxiety of keeping such a huge secret from your husband, all you think about is König. You’ve spent the past few weeks in a haze, like he’s put some sort of spell on you. You do get a kick out of imagining him as a witch with a hat and cauldron.

But you know it’s something simpler than that. All the feelings you used to have for him have returned. It’s different than the heady rush you used to get with your husband. It feels sweeter, like you really are a teenage girl with a crush all over again.

It feels naïve, but you also don’t care. You feel safe despite the situation you’re still in, for the first time in a long time. You never would have expected to see König again—even less so for him to become your saving grace.

It seems silly in hindsight that you had been so frightened of him. Sure, the mask was a lot. But it had been something about his energy. It was different than you had ever felt from him, before or after your reunion. If he was that way on the battlefield, then no wonder he had earned the nickname König. You’re not sure if it scares or awes you.

You’re about to find out.

An anxiety attack is the worst feeling in the world.

You dry heave. Your chest feels like a roiling ball of angry carrion birds hollowing you out. You shake like a leaf in the wind. You fall down a long, dark pit of despair as your stomach seizes with nausea.

The train’s delayed. There’s been an issue with the tracks leading out of the city. No trains will be leaving for 12 hours.

You should have just sat in the terminal and waited, or tried to contact König, but you’re not thinking straight. All of your thoughts are focused on your husband, and what he’ll do if he comes home and finds you gone. You decide, somehow, that it would be wiser to throw yourself back into the lion’s den and pretend everything’s alright instead of waiting for him to come raging into the train station and pull you out by the hair. The thought of that is the only thing that gets you up off the wall you were hyperventilating against and back towards home.

The plan is to get home before he does and hide your suitcases. He’s usually not home by this time, anyway. You chalk the rising sense of dread in the pit of your stomach up to your anxiety and turn the handle to go in.

Fuck.

He’s standing in the kitchen.

The years have not been kind to him. He’s far from the charming young man you married. He’s wretched, unkempt, angry. It’s clear he’s been drinking, maybe even before he left work. The shadows etch themselves into the lines of his face as his expression twists into something awful, inhuman. You stand, frozen, as he approaches you.

“Planning a trip without me?” he asks with an awful grin.

You can still salvage this. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I just received word. My mother’s not doing well. I have to go see her.”

“You lie like a whore,” he snarls. “Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention. You’re different nowadays. Not the nice obedient woman I married.”

Your fear turns to anger in an instant. Years and years of this horseshit, waiting on him hand and foot, placing his smallest whims before your own needs and wants—it rushes up through you like hot steam. His nice obedient woman. And the worst thing is, you hate that he’s not wrong. That is what you’ve become.

“Yesterday I came home and you hadn’t even started dinner. Where were you, huh? Running around on me behind my back?” It’s difficult to describe, but his smile is oily: sleazy, untrustworthy, dangerous. “With that big fuck in a hood that came here with the mercenaries, perhaps?”

Your blood runs cold at that. Has he seen you with König? When? Why hasn’t he said anything? It feels like you’re stepping into a trap, but you must move forward if you want to get out.

“He’s going to get what’s coming to him, alright. My manager has a direct line to his boss. One word from him will get that fucker deployed to the middle of nowhere on a suicide mission.”

It’s an absurd threat, and you know it. This drunken idiot has no idea what he’s talking about—as if some middle-management bureaucrat could persuade a PMC to dispose of a soldier like König. But it’s the audacity that irks you. You’ve lived your life serving this man for too long, and now he thinks the world will bend to his whims. There’s absolutely no way he can touch König, but an old and familiar anger rises in you.

A long overdue revelation dawns on you now. He’s a bully. The same as Andreas: little boys with petty insults and empty threats. Pushing people around because their own lives are empty and unsatisfying.

An eerie calm breaks through you like the sky cutting through a storm. The man before you is just a feral animal, snarling and snapping in desperation. You’re not afraid of him anymore.

You reach behind you and slowly roll open the knife drawer, grabbing the first one your fingers land on.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this house, this country, and this marriage,” you say, gripping the knife in a defensive position. Your father taught you how to hold a knife like this: backwards, with the blade along your arm, sharp edge facing outwards.

“This way, it’s much more difficult for someone to turn the blade against you,” he had told you, demonstrating the motion by moving your arm towards your chest. The memory makes you smile. At the time, you’d been indulging your old man—he had always said that violence was a last resort, but that the world was unkind and one day you may have to defend yourself. He was right, just as he was when he told you he had reservations about your marriage.

You’re going home. You’re going to see your father again. And you’ll never have to tolerate the loathsome toad before you again.

The beast laughs. “What do you think you’re going to do with that? Stab me?” He’s up against you before you can react, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasp as he pins you against a wall by the throat.

“You. Are. Mine. You will never raise a hand against me because I own you,” he hisses, his alcohol-laced breath foul against your face. “And it’s high time you remembered that.” His grip tightens like an iron vice around your throat, but you’re not afraid. Even as your vision begins to blur and blacken, you stare directly into his eyes. They’re like red-hot coals of fury, but you see what’s behind them now. The fear. The cowardice of a desperate man who has no recourse but to lay his hands on someone who can’t fight back.

“You’re pathetic,” you rasp, lips tugging into a smile. The coals burn brighter. The hand squeezes tighter. The adrenaline surges through you like a tide—and your body acts to protect itself, in a way that you haven’t allowed it to in a long time. A feeling as sweet and familiar as an old friend.

The knife makes its home right between his ribs.

He staggers away from you, as if you had slightly winded him instead of stabbed him in the heart. Your hands instantly go to your throat as you cough and sputter, lightheaded and dizzy but alive, so alive. You’ve never felt so alive as you do right now, watching the demon of your own personal hell look down at the blade sticking out of him.

“You stupid little bitch—” He makes as if to lunge at you, but time slows. Your eyes widen as the shadows behind him melt and solidify into a figure. Tall and hooded. No knight in shining armor, but an assassin of deepest night.

König slashes through your husband’s throat in one deadly, beautiful motion.

Your husband falls to the ground like dead weight, gasping and choking on his own blood. Your eyes are fixed on him, a strange sensation bubbling through you. You’re making some kind of noise, loud and cacophonous, as König steps over the dying animal who has controlled you your whole adult life.

His arms find their way around you as you slowly sink to the ground, howling and wailing. He’s so patient, you think numbly with some corner of your mind that remains untouched by the mania seizing the rest of you. The two of you sit there, his body warm and solid against yours, as your body slowly exits fight or flight mode.

“Alex?” you say hoarsely once you’re in your right mind again.

“I’m here,” he rumbles.

You turn to look at him as he pulls the hood off his head. There he is, your Alexander, all grown up. He’s rugged, with nasty-looking white scars streaked across his face, but so, so handsome. His eyes are still the same as he looks at you with something akin to rapturous adoration. Your green-eyed boy.

“You’re back, rosethorn,” he says with a wide grin. There’s a touch of madness to it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Was I…” Exhaustion sets in, seeping through your whole body. “Was I crying or laughing just now?”

He shifts you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby as you look up at him.

“I think you were laughing.”

The police release you after just over half an hour of questioning.

You aren’t going anywhere, of course. They’re leaving you, exiting your hospital room with murmurs of well-wishes for your health. They’ve hardly left the room when König comes striding in, instantly moving to your bedside and holding your hand in his.

He looks tired too, his eyes soft as he takes in your small smile. You’re sure he was being interrogated for much longer than you, but it looks like he passed muster as well. Not as if you had anything to worry about—what could the local police have done to the commander of the mercenaries taking down their local terrorist cell anyway?

“Are you alright? Did they clear you?” His expression hardens as he glances at your neck. You nod weakly. Your throat is going to be bruised for a while, but your attacker hadn’t done any lasting damage.

Attacker. Husband. Corpse. All of these words describe the same thing now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he says mournfully. “He shouldn’t have had the chance to attack you like that.”

You shake your head at him. He didn’t know that you weren’t on the train heading home, after all. The room is quiet for a few moments, save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Why…” you manage to ask. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“Why was I there?” He glances around to make sure nobody’s listening, and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I was there to kill him, of course.”

You shudder a little. He admits it so casually, that he was in your house because he was there to commit a murder. You should be afraid of him, but you feel around in your brain and come up empty-handed.

Instead, you find yourself worried. For him. “What if you had gotten in trouble?”

He snorts. “You underestimate me, rosethorn. I would have just framed it as a robbery.”

You nod. Oh God…does that mean he had planned this? Why doesn’t that horrify or disgust you? You’re just going to have to dissect that later. Right now, you only feel a warm affection towards the man stroking his thumb along your hand in a soothing motion.

“So…what comes next?”

“You’re asking me? We can do whatever you like. I can take you home.”

Home. Where is that, now? It’s certainly not in the house you’ve left behind, where the ghost of the man you were married to settles in every nook and cranny. It doesn’t feel like your childhood home where your parents are, either.

It’s such a corny saying, “home is where the heart is”. But home feels like it’s already here, sitting next to your hospital bed with the fondest look in his eyes.

“I’d like to travel,” you whisper. The with you goes unspoken.

“I have plenty of leave time saved up.”

You flip your hand so you can hold his. It’s huge next to yours. This is the hand that slit your husband’s throat, a hand that has killed countless people.

You’re not sentimental enough to pretend that’s not an issue. You’re not entirely sure this is happily ever after: that all of your problems are solved because you’ve replaced one violent man with another. But another part of you yearns to be the one who gets protected. You’ll take care of König, and you know he’ll take care of you. In his own way.

You can ask the questions later. Right now, you have lost time to make up for.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that scarf?”

The air is cold, but the wind is soft instead of feeling like tiny blades against your face. You tug said scarf down from your face and take in a lungful of crisp, icy air.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure König as he hauls himself up the last ridge to where you’re standing. “It’s loose enough. And it’s chilly.”

“If you say so.” He tugs his neck gaiter further up his nose. “What a view, hm?”

You’re standing on Mont Blanc, blanketed by serene white snow just as the name promised. Further below you, the skiing slopes are crawling with tourists, but here in this little outcropping, the only sound is the occasional rush of wind and your voices.

“I think I can see Salzburg from here,” you say, pointing off into gorgeous landscape spread out before you.

“That is most certainly still Switzerland,” König says, amused. You turn to look at him instead and are rewarded with his shining green eyes looking right back at you.

“Whatever!” You let out a dissatisfied hmph, which draws a hearty laugh from him.

“You came all the way to Chamonix just so you could look at Austria again?”

“It’s a very tall mountain,” you argue.

“It’s one of many very tall mountains. We could have just gone to Großglockner.”

“That’s boring. I’ve always wanted to visit France.”

“You wanted to visit a very expensive ski chalet.”

“Bite me.”

“I just might!” You giggle and squeal as he grabs you, chasing your face with his as you squirm around.

“It is beautiful,” he concedes as he holds a hand above his eyes to keep off the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I should push you off this peak right now.”

“You couldn’t move me an inch.” He grabs you by the waist and holds you tight to emphasize his point. You can’t even shift his arms off you, no matter how hard you push.

“Ok, fine, you win.” You pout at him, but he doesn’t let you go.

The dynamic the two of you share is so easygoing and relaxed, it’s like you had a rhythm all along that both of you just fell back into. But of course, there are some things you’ve never done together. Like travel together.

Or kiss.

“Are you going to do it this time?” you ask him, smiling.

His nose wrinkles up, uncharacteristically cute for someone like him. “Well, I was going to, but then you had to open your mouth.”

You cackle. “Go on then.”

“Can I?”

“I just said yes!”

“I forgot how much you like to talk,” he complains. Before you can say another word, he captures your lips in his.

The sky is vivid and blue as the whole world stretches out before you.

#RIPBOZO

Here we are! We're at the end of this little story I started writing on a whim. Honestly, this means a lot to me personally: I wrote a lot when I was younger, but high school and university were very difficult times for me, and I stopped writing fanfiction. I tried to get back into it during the pandemic, but I was never able to finish anything beyond a long-ish drabble. I'm quite proud of this.

Even still, I feel like there are a lot of stories that I still want to tell about this couple. There's quite a lot that I decided to cut from these main 3 chapters for the sake of pacing and time. There's a little bit of dissatisfaction at not having crammed in every little detail that I wanted, but if there's one thing that writing university papers has taught me, it's that perfectionism will keep you from getting anything done. So you will be getting more from Alex and Thorn in the future!

I know a lot of you were anticipating what delicious revenge König was going to exact on Thorn's husband, so I hope you weren't too disappointed ;; While I personally would have loved to have König strap him to a chair in the basement and do some morbid things with a knife, I think it was important for Thorn's character that she's involved in it. While of course the main focus of this story is König, Shrike is also about his beloved Thorn. I hope to explore König and the darker (and pervier) aspects of his character more in subsequent stories. But for now, they're getting a well-deserved happy ending.

One last thing before I go: Chamonix is a resort town in central/southeast France, not far from Lyon. (Sorry, I don't know whether Lyon is south enough to be considered southern France lol). Mont Blanc is Chamonix's main peak of the Alps, and is known for how pretty it is and being at the border of France, Switzerland, and Italy. As König said, if you wanted to visit a mountain as an Austrian, there are several of them at home you could visit, but since I visited it a few years ago, Chamonix has a special place in my heart. I just had to cram it in!

As usual, I'm excited to see your comments and feedback. I've read every single thing everybody has commented about this fic, even if I couldn't respond to you all, and I appreciate it so deeply. Whenever I get feedback I literally feel like kicking my feet and giggling. And if you want to ask questions or request specific scenarios with Thorn and Alex, please do send me an ask!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @kneelingshadowsalome @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @fireballoveraltanta

psst. to my tag list people while I have you here: naturally I will continue tagging you in other Shrike stories, but I'll also be using this same tag list for every other König fic I write. If you'd like to opt out of that, let me know. (No hard feelings, of course :3)

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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writeonwhiskey · 7 months ago

Text

the skz house: ch 15 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i apologize for the delay. my work schedule goes back to normal next month so i'll have my head back on straight then. thank you for your patience! i hope you enjoy the chapter :)

[ read chapter fourteen here ]

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers and Cabins

Tuesday, November 14th

You’re in the living room with Han, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Charlotte. Han gathered you all to practice an upcoming presentation for his public speaking class. As you watch him discuss his chosen topic of Greek Mythology (accompanied by a PowerPoint on the TV behind him), you wonder when his nerves are going to set in, when he’s going to slip up or stumble over his words—he never does. None of the members interject, taunt or tease him.

Han is confident in front of them. Perhaps because of them. He has no problem being the center of attention in the house, around his friends. On his own in front of strangers must be another thing entirely, apparently.

After he’s finished, the boys offer suggestions on things he could make clearer or that are not necessary to mention. You’ve seen how they operate together—typically silly beyond belief but at the end of the day, they’re always there for each other. Still, it surprises you how gentle they are with him, knowing he’s facing something that makes him uncomfortable.

Han thanks everyone for their time before sitting on the sectional between Changbin and Felix, and with his very next breath says how much he does not want to do this.

“If you bomb it, just remember you’ll probably never see those people again after you graduate,” Changbin tries to console him.

“Maybe not,” Han replies. “But they will have an embarrassing memory of me etched into their brain forever, if I do.”

“We could come sit in the back of the class,” Hyunjin offers. “For moral support.”

Hyunjin is laying down on the couch, legs resting on Changbin’s thighs and his head on your lap as you play with his hair. Jeongin and Charlotte are on the other side of you, cuddled together and in their own little world now.

“Please don’t do that.” Han shakes his head.

“Just relax…don’t overthink it,” Felix tells him, shrugging.

“Easy for you to say,” Han rolls his eyes. “If I, too, had a voice made for smutty audiobooks, I’d probably be giving speeches every day for fun.”

Changbin laughs, “He has a point, ‘Lix. Give us a ‘that’s my good girl’.”

Felix smiles devilishly, eyebrows raised as he leans across Han and motions with his finger for Changbin to come closer. In the deepest, most sultry tone you’ve ever heard from him he says, “That’s my fucking good girl.”

Changbin wiggles his body, as if shivers are running through him and Felix lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Just get through it,” Felix leans back and returns his attention to Han, “and next week we’ll have a nice break at the cabin.”

“Cabin?” You ask.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says, looking up at you and offers a weak smile. “I forgot to tell you.”

You smack him on the head, and he flinches.

“They just decided on it a few days ago,” he attempts to defend himself.

“For Thanksgiving weekend,” Felix informs you. “It’s maybe about an hour and a half away from here. But if you’re going home to visit family that’s fine, of course.”

You hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving since freshman year. It’s too short of a time span, with most of it spent in the airport. And God forbid there are delays.

“No, I hadn’t planned to,” you tell him.

“Good. ‘Cause I make an amazing peach cobbler,” he does the chef’s kiss motion. “You wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You look down at Hyunjin, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry?” He attempts puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, you will be. Sorry and broke.” You retort.

Thursday, November 16th

You’ve returned home from your morning class and it’s no surprise Hyunjin is still sleeping. You’re in the girls’ room doing homework and waiting for him to wake up. Rhiannon is in the den with you, click-clacking away on her keyboard. The others are either in class or out of the house.

It’s nearly 1:00pm when you receive a text from Hyunjin.

Are you not back yet?

It makes you smile—picturing him waking up in bed alone, knowing you should be back from school by now and expecting you to be there, snuggling up with him.

I’m in the den, doing homework.

You sleep too much.

No such thing. I’m gonna hop in the shower…lunch when I’m out?

Of course. I got you.

And yes, you do. You have him. You will whip him up a lunch of his choosing, after business is handled. Now that half the members are out of the competition, you don’t think he’ll object as heavily to losing. You’ve been waiting for this day—you know his Thursday routine. He sleeps in, showers, eats, then goes to class. Now is the perfect time to take action.

“Rhi,” you call out to her, spinning around in your chairs.

“Hmm?” Is her reply, but she doesn’t take her gaze away from her computer screen.

“I’m going up now.”

She finally turns around to look at you, “You got this.” She gives you a thumbs up and a wink.

You exit the den and head upstairs. You’re not sure if this is allowed, but there was never anything said about areas of the house specifically being off limits to the girls. You’d never seen or caught any of the members in the girl’s bathroom with their assignees, though.

When you make it to the second floor, you hear music playing at the end of the hall. You tiptoe towards the bathroom and can hear the shower water running, too. You take a deep breath as you turn the doorknob, hoping that your calculations of who’s home and who’s away is correct. Since the boys also share a bathroom, you have to pray that Hyunjin is alone.

You tentatively step inside, peeking your head in first to make sure no one else is there. The coast is clear and Hyunjin is already in the shower, thankfully. Their bathroom is set up exactly like the girls—multiple sinks, showers, and separate rooms for the toilets. The glass surrounding the shower is fogged up, keeping your entrance a secret. You quietly close and lock the door behind you.

Hyunjin is obliviously singing along to the Mac Miller song blaring from the speaker. You quickly slip out of your clothes and set them in a pile on the sink before making your way to the shower door.

You grip the handle and gently pull the door open. Hyunjin is standing directly under the showerhead with his back towards you. His head is tilted back, eyes shut as the water pours over him. You have a fraction of a second to enjoy the sight because as soon as the cold air hits him he whips around, screams and holds his hands up in defense.

You immediately burst into laughter.

“Y/N,” he says, exhaling lightly when realization sets in that it’s you.

You enter the shower and close the door behind you, sealing the steam and warmth back in. He’s leaning against the wall, hand now over his chest and just completely…exposed. You don’t let the opportunity to run your eyes over his body pass.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” you say with a small shrug and smile.

He clicks his tongue, “Liar.”

He pushes away from the wall, standing under the water again. You step around him, positioning yourself between him and the shower wall.

“This is it, huh?” He asks, seeing the look in your eyes.

You nod in response and start to lower yourself to your knees.

“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head and grabs your waist to stop you.

He pulls you up so you’re standing and covers your mouth with his. His tongue glides over your lips and your eyes flutter shut as you relax and let him take the lead. You don’t have to worry about what comes next with him. You know he’s about to make you feel like you never existed until you met him.

“You first,” he says, breaking the kiss.

He backs you up against the wall and gets down on his knees. You step your legs further apart to allow him better access. He slides one hand up your stomach to cup your breast, pinching your nipple and watching with a smile as you push your hips forward in an attempt to get his mouth right where you want it.

He doesn’t make you wait. He latches on to your pussy with his mouth and your hands immediately go to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling at the roots. You lean your head back against the wall and let out a sigh, feeling his tongue slide back and forth, up and down between your folds.

You hadn’t exactly been fucking your ex every single day, however since moving into the SKZ house you’d grown accustomed to some kind of regular sexual activity. You hadn’t gone more than seven days without it since being here. It’s been sixteen, and it felt like an eternity.

You turn your gaze down to Hyunjin. He’s focused on the task at hand as the water cascades down his back. With your hands still in his hair, you press him against you harder, rocking your hips against his face. He chuckles at this. His other hand slips between your legs to find your opening and pushes two fingers inside of you.

“You missed me, jagiya?” He murmurs, looking up at you with those smiling brown eyes.

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

“Good,” he places a kiss on your clit then returns his focus to fucking you with his fingers and playing with your breasts, your nipples.

One, maybe two, songs play out on the speaker as he continues to pleasure you. Alternating from using his fingers to his mouth, never seeming to grow tired of the work he’s putting in. You want to let him finish; you want to come standing over him like this. But you need him to fuck you.

Sure, he’s technically out of the game now due to his actions. You’ve got to see this through, though, to make sure he’s out-out.

You release the hairs on his head and grab his wrist to stop him. You motion for him to stand, and he does, popping his fingers in his mouth to lick your juices off. He kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You push him away and turn around, pressing your chest against the wall and turning your head to the side. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him. He reaches up to move the shower head out of the way a bit as his other hand rubs his dick up and down your slit. He revels in the feeling for a moment, teasing you.

When his dick reaches your opening, he thrusts his hips forward and you moan at the feel of him inside of you, arching your back even more.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head as he holds your hips still. “I’m not sure how long—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You can make it up to me.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He starts fucking you—pulling out, thrusting in. Gripping your hips, your breasts, hands wandering all over your body. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do, but it’s been so long he wants to do it all.

One hand makes its way down around your waist to stimulate your clit, rubbing circles as he continues thrusting. He leans forward and showers your back in the sweetest, softest kisses. Combined with everything else and how long it’s been, it’s enough. Your palms are flat against the shower wall, helping you push your hips back against him. You feel your legs start to shake and Hyunjin gets the hint. He doesn’t change anything he’s doing, knowing what you’re feeling right now is what will make you come.

“Fuck, fuck,” he exhales heavily as your pussy clenches around his dick. He can’t hold back any longer. He thrusts into you with reckless abandon, gripping your hips as he releases himself into you.

When he’s done, he wraps his arm under your breasts and pulls you back against him. He moves the showerhead back in place, so the warm water falls over both of you.

“Fine. I guess I’ll do the dishes for you,” he jokes, leaning down to rest his cheek against yours.

“At least you don’t have to hold back anymore,” you reply.

“That’s true. I want you in the room ready for me when I’m back from class.”

You turn your head to look at him—he’s smiling.

He had never demanded such a thing before. Not that it’s much of a demand…more of a request. Close enough for Hyunjin.

Thanksgiving Weekend

Thursday, November 23rd

The house is just as chaotic as you imagined it would be this morning. Twelve people up before the crack of dawn loading cars with food and luggage while still half asleep. Chan instructs you and the other girls to leave first in the car with all the food to get started on the meal. He plugs in the address on the GPS and then you’re off.

The roads are relatively empty, so the drive takes just about an hour and a half. The last fifteen minutes are spent off the main road, driving slowly up a rocky path surrounded by trees.

“Now that’s a cabin,” Rhiannon says as you park the car.

It looks like a log cabin in that the exterior and pillars are all made of wood, except the top portion of the home is triangular with wooden awnings on the sides that cover the wraparound porch on the second level. There are several large windows with no coverings—probably a good thing the location is remote, so no one has to worry about neighbors looking in. In the front yard is a patio table and fire pit surrounded by chairs.

You all exit the car and start lugging the food to the front door. You enter the code on the keypad Chan had texted you and it unlocks.

The interior holds up the log cabin feel with a wide, open floor plan, but all the furniture and appliances make it feel modern. You all momentarily abandon the food at the door to explore the inside. There are four bedrooms, one downstairs and three on the second level, the third level has a loft with a computer desk and ping pong table.

You wonder if this is a rental property or if the SKZ fraternity owns it. You wouldn’t be shocked by the latter, but it’s none of your business.

After touring the cabin, the four of you get back to business and haul the food inside to start prepping the meal. The menu is a mix of traditional American and Korean food for the holiday.

When the boys arrive an hour later, they’ve stopped for a few essentials—mainly alcohol. They unload all the luggage then crowd in the kitchen and start debating over who will sleep where.

“Room Roulette?” Han suggests.

“Assignees and their members?” Jeongin says, winking at Charlotte.

“You’re already out—of course you want that,” Lee Know rebuffs while vigorously working on stuffing the turkey.

“Don’t think you can resist?” Allie asks, to which he rolls his eyes.

She still hasn’t been able to get him to break, but she’s been persistent.

“Ladies choice?” Hyunjin offers as he comes up behind you, standing at the stove, and wraps his hands around your waist.

You nudge him away playfully with your shoulder, but he stays put a moment longer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Does it really matter?” Changbin speaks up. “Everyone will just fall asleep wherever anyways.”

They continue back and forth until they’ve all had enough and just stare at Chan to make a decision.

He points to Jeongin, Han and Hyunjin, “Kai bai bo.”

The three of them stand on separate sides of the island and begin playing rock, paper, scissors. Han is out first. Before Hyunjin and Jeongin start, Jeongin has Charlotte kiss his hands for luck. It must work, because Hyunjin loses.

Jeongin grins, heart melting dimples on display, and gives a satisfied nod.

“That’s settled then—assignees and their members,” Chan announces.

You’re still focused on the food you’re cooking, but you want so badly to turn and look at Chan to see his expression. Sharing a room with him and Hyunjin? Is he happy with the result?

The rest of the afternoon is spent with everyone helping make something. When it’s finally time for dinner, you sit between Hyunjin and Chan. You’re thankful to be here with all of them. You think back to what Chan said on your first day at the house—that you’d gain a sense of community, and you really have.

The room assignment winds up being a nonfactor. Everyone is so full and damn near comatose that, true to Changbin’s words, they fall asleep wherever they land. You wake up on the couch in the living room and make your way back to the room, but neither Hyunjin nor Chan are there.

The next day, everyone kind of does their own thing. You go hiking with Hyunjin and a few others while everyone else stays at the house. That night, after dinner, everyone is gathered in the living room drinking and playing games. Or at least you thought everyone was. Looking around the room, you don’t see Chan.

He was here earlier, you’re certain. Where had he gone off to?

It’s closing in on the end of the month and Chan and Lee Know are the only ones that have not yet lost the competition. The others are preoccupied with their game, so you decide to go find him. Time is running out for the month, you’re extremely aware of that. And you have a little bit of liquid courage on your side now.

You take another shot of the strawberry flavored soju before getting up from the couch. He’s not in the kitchen, dining room, or the porch. You make your way up to the room you’ve been assigned on the second floor.

There he is.

He’s laying on the bed on his stomach, scrolling through his phone when you walk in. At the sound, he promptly turns around and sits up.

“Are you bored of us?”

“Nah,” he says lightly. “Just don’t wanna get too drunk again.”

Meaning he doesn’t want to lose control of himself or say anything he might regret again, you assume.

“Would you mind some company?”

You sit next to him on the bed, draping one leg over his and looking up at him with a lazy, tipsy smile.

“PG company?” He chuckles lightly, placing his hand on your leg.

“PG-13, maybe?” You counter, sliding his hand up towards your thigh.

The feel of his fingertips gliding across your skin sends an achy feeling to your core. You want to him to press his fingers against your clit to release the ache.

He smiles back at you and hooks a finger under your chin to pull your face closer to his. Since that day in the closet, he had at least been more open to semi-steamy make out sessions but always pulled away before you could go too far.

You close the distance between you, locking your lips with his as you swing your other leg across him to straddle him. He allows it. You wrap your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. You can taste the alcohol on him, too, but it’s faint. Maybe you should have brought some in here. It still counts even if he’s drunk, right?

In any other context, that sounds terrible.

You start to rock your hips against him, moaning when you feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants. His hands suddenly grip your hips to hold you in place.

“Chan, please,” you whisper. You kiss along his cheek, down to his neck, lightly nipping with your teeth. “I miss you fucking me.”

“No,” he says, but it sounds half-assed, not even half of the conviction you know he can muster. He shakes his head but his cock pressing against your thighs say otherwise. You grind against it again.

“It’s just a stupid competition,” you attempt your best pouty face. You’ve never known these antics to work with him, but you’re pulling at straws now.

“It’s more than that for me,” he replies softly.

“You have to win?”

“I have to resist.”

You furrow your brow.

“Please?” You slip your hand between your legs and squeeze his cock.

He sucks in a breath and in one swift motion, moves you off him and stands up. Before you can even get another word out, he’s walking towards the door, shutting it not so quietly behind him.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed so much, so fast. You have six days left to get to him and right now, it feels like an impossible task. You knew he could hold back, but his words made it seem like it’s more than that. Resisting? Resisting what? You?

You sit for a while, wondering if he’ll come back and why this seems like such a big deal to him. After a few minutes you stand in defeat and walk to the door. As you reach for the knob, the door swings open again, startling you.

Chan is there, ushering a confused Hyunjin into the room.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks you, sounding concerned.

“Yeah? I’m fine.”

Hyunjin turns back to look at Chan with a confused look on his face.

Chan shrugs, his eyes move from you back to Hyunjin, “Y/N needs you.”

There’s something about his tone of voice that you can’t quite pin down. He sounds…dejected almost.

You try to make sense of Chan’s thought process. You plead with him to fuck you and he won’t…so he gets the next best thing in his mind? He knows you’re turned on, that you need him, but he can’t—won’t—give in. So he brings the only other person that can satisfy you right now. Why does it feel like a slap in the face, though? With his tone and the look on his face it’s as if he’s saying, you wanna be fucked so bad? Here’s Hyunjin.

Hyunjin turns back to you and smiles lazily. He reaches for your waist, pulls you to him and kisses you. You’re still surprised by what is playing out, eyes open, looking at Chan with Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Chan breaks eye contact and turns his head as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You shut your eyes and try your best to shake the thoughts of Chan and focus on Hyunjin. It doesn’t take much trying on your part, truthfully. You could lose yourself in trying to solve the puzzle that is Chan. The only solace from the madness he conjures up inside of you is the man still standing in front of you. The one who hasn’t left.

“How can I be of service?” Hyunjin asks, nuzzling at your neck.

You can’t help but smile at his words, his actions. He’s always ready to please you and it’s never been complicated.

Sunday, November 26th

Chan did not come back to the room that night. He didn’t sleep in the room with you and Hyunjin the entire weekend, as a matter of fact. His behavior with you throughout the day was the same as usual, though. It didn’t appear that he was upset. He even joked around with you and offered a seat on his lap when all the other chairs on the patio were taken. He’s really acting like he has something to prove by abstaining this month, and you really wish you knew what it was.

Maybe you’re thinking too deeply about it…but how can you not? You also don’t want to ruin the growth you’ve made with him, so you don’t bring it up. You do, however, have a plan to hopefully end this silly competition once and for all. To see if you can push him over the edge.

After you arrive home in the afternoon, Chan leaves with some of the other members to run an errand and you know that this is your moment. Hyunjin is somewhat surprised when you tell him you’ll be staying with Chan for the night. He doesn’t question it, just kisses your forehead and says he’ll see you tomorrow.

You shower and take the items you’ll need to Chan’s room and set up as quickly as possible. You’re not sure what time he will be back, so you have no choice but to sit and wait once you’re in place.

You can feel your heart pumping in your ears. A million thoughts are racing through your mind, trying to understand how you got here. Hoping Chan has the reaction you want. You want to win the competition, sure, who wouldn’t in this situation? But you’re also eager to please Chan in a way you’ve never tried before. To give him complete control of you.

You’re excited. You’re nervous. You’re so out of your element.

You shift around in his bed, really wanting to check the time on your phone but unable to. Your hands are linked together with the furry black handcuffs you got from the mall, looped through a space in his headboard. You have waited all month for this. To catch him off guard, with a sight that is hopefully so shocking he will not be able to resist.

Though you tried to seduce him at other times throughout the month, you still had this wildcard up your sleeve in case none of your attempts worked. Which they hadn’t. So here you are, lying in his bed in skimpy black lingerie. It’s a one piece, lace body suit that’s cut out around the breasts so they’re on full display. The area between your legs is exposed, so you keep your legs bent, knees pressed together. The ensemble is accompanied by black, knee-high stockings and a garter belt.

You could hardly believe the sight looking at your own reflection. You just have to hope it’s enough. And fucking pray no one randomly decides to come in Chan’s room since you had no choice but to leave the door unlocked. You’d be fucking mortified.

Another few more minutes pass and you hear car doors closing in the driveway. Your heartbeat picks up again, fraught with anticipation.

It feels like a lifetime passes before you hear footsteps outside the door. Chan’s laughing at something someone said as he approaches. At least he’s in a good mood, maybe this will work. You sit up as straight as you can with your hands hanging above you.

You hold your breath as the doorknob turns while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do with your face. A cute look? A look of innocence? Seduction? You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hide your inner panic and that’s the look you’re stuck with as he enters.

His eyes land on you—exposed and cuffed to his bed—his laugh abruptly stops. His smile falters.

He exhales a loud sigh, drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. You’re chewing on the inside of your lip now as your nerves take over. This was not the reaction you had anticipated. Is he angry? Frustrated? Put off?

Maybe you shouldn’t have welcomed yourself into his bed. It’s not like you had an open invitation after the night he allowed you to sleep here with him. That hadn’t happened again since, and he hadn’t even mentioned it.

“Chan,” a timid voice says. It’s yours, but you hardly recognize it.

He straightens his head and looks at you again, eyes moving from your head, down to your stocking covered toes. He lets out another loud sigh and runs his hand through his hair. He shakes his head, blinking incredulously as he steps back and retreats from the room.

When the door closes, your heart sinks.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

[ picture book for photos of the cabin and lingerie ]

a/n: please don't kill me. this one had to end on a cliffhanger. like, comment, reblog to show your support <3 what do we think, is chan coming back? or is he gonna win this thing?

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @huneyeon / @kpop-kink / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @okkkcausewhet / @bangtancultsposts / @wannareadstories / @jenniferlr / @shroomcapp / @lyracarvahall / @palindrome969 / @grandma143

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levis-coffeecup · 2 months ago

Text

chapter 29| Turning Page

WC-6.5k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

OMG hiii guysss!

Can't believe that this is the last chapter!! There's so much gratitude in my heart right now. This has been a long long (irregular🤡) ride, and I'm grateful to everyone who's sticked around!

I've tried my best to write an amazing chapter since its the last, which is why this got so delayed. (And I might also have been overworked to the core at work lol ) But there's going to be a long ass note at the the end of the chapter about everything!

Song for the final chapter is by Turning Page by Sleeping at Last!

I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

APRIL 857

It’s an hour past 12, and Levi sits on his balcony looking at the midnight sky.

The thick veil of pollution prevents the stars from being visible. Instead there's street lights and high beams from cars, twinkling on the ground.

He misses the stars from Paradis. It was the first thing he fell in love with once he came to the surface. And he wonders, whether Mae is looking at the stars and thinking of him as well?

The world outside the walls is beautiful.

There are soaring cathedrals that almost reach the sky, and beautiful temples with the most intricate architecture. There’s snow capped mountains and beautiful cherry blossoms. And everyday, from his tiny balcony, he gets to see the sun sink below the sharp silhouette of the towers.

He’s getting to experience the world his comrades died for.

But as beautiful the outside world is, it isn’t home

The development of technology seems unfamiliar. And the people around him haven’t lived their entire lives caged in fear. These people don’t know the cost of freedom.

It has been so long since he’s been back home.

It’s been so long since the Rumbling too.

The earth was left razen. Mountains crumbled to dust and forests burnt to ashes. Countries had simply been wiped off the face of the earth. Years of civilization and developmentsnuffed out in an instant, with no one to record their names.

But against the odds, humanity managed to survive. Traumatized and beaten, but still alive.

Miraculously Levi made it too.

Jean and Connie found him half dead, on the foot of Fort Salta. He was lapsing in and out of consciousness. Devoid of the strength to even stand up.

Tents were made into makeshift hospitals, food was meager. And his first few months were spent on a wooden cot,bed ridden with the stinging pain of his knee and his yearning for Mae.

He yearned to see her when he was trapped with Zeke for a month, he yearned to see her when he woke up with searing pain and bandages all over his face. And now the war was over, but he couldn’t get back to her.

The Rumbling destroyed everything humanity had ever strived for. Rail tracks, roads, ports, farms… everything was abolished as an aftermath.

It was impossible to get to the other side of the world.

Gradually Levi recovered, it took him almost a year. But his strength never returned. The tiniest task would turn him breathless, and the sight in his right eye was gone for good.

The doctors diagnosed him a plethora of health problems. And he was never allowed to look weak, but now he was in a wheelchair, needing help to pick things up from the floor. Life dealt him one blow after another.

Armin, Jean and Connie became busy, making peace with the remaining nations. Mikasa never returned. And Levi found himself, all alone. With a chaotic mind, and too much time on his hands.

Soon the Allied Nations rescued all the survivors from the Titan Waste Lands. Marley was no more, so most refugees ended up taking asylum in Hizuru.

And by the courtesy of Kiyomi Azumabito, Levi was gifted an apartment in the center of the city hall, and citizenship. A tiny apartment in between a lush square, in the city center.

It was tiny, but homely enough. And he would love sitting on the balcony and watching the outside world.

Life got more comfortable and Levi got to see the sights his comrades died for.

But there were still days where he barely had enough strength to pick his remaining fingers. Those days were the worst. And he felt like the walls of his apartment would swallow him up.

The purpose of his life was over. Hange was gone. Erwin was gone. Life came crashing down.

And sometimes, under the flicker of a candlelight, at his tiny desk, he would close his eyes, and imagine that he’s back in Mae’s old house. Learning the alphabet, listening to the soft scratches of her pen as she corrected his writings. It seemed like lifetimes had passed since then.

Mae was always with him, through all his hurdles he faced on the surface. And now he had to face an awfully big one, without her.

So he decided he’ll start to learn writing again. With two fingers of his right hand gone, he had to re-learn how to hold a pen again. He told Onyaknapon to get him books, so he could trace over letters, trying to perfect every curve. Just the way Mae had taught him.

It gave him a sense of purpose, and it also made him feel close to her in some way.

It took three years for the Yeagerists to finally agree to a cordial discussion with the Alliance. Historia sent letters to everyone. And this morning the Alliance left, back to their hometown.

Armin did extend an invitation to him too. But Levi didn’t want to be associated with the world anymore. He didn’t have the strength for it nor the will. His job was done.

“Captain,” A voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Behind him is a sliding door that leads to his room. And on the bed sits Onyakapon.

He points at the three thick journals that take up most of his space in his briefcase.“Are you sure you want to take these back?”

And Levi contemplates. Paper doesn’t spoil, and he should rather carry some spare clothes to keep himself clean.

“Leave the journals there.” His voice comes out gruff, and then it turns wispy. Everything he’s ever felt in these years without her and his limbs, is penned in these flimsy sheets of paper.

“It’s letters I have written to her.” There is no need to clarify. There’s no need to carry his journals all the way back either. But he does it either way. The war has changed him. And Levi realises he doesn’t have to torture himself anymore.

“I’m surprised you never got her to meet us.” Onyakapon smirks. He could have never guessed the captain had a lover.

And a faint smile appears on Levi’s lips as the curve of her smile plays on his mind. He wonders if she found the pearl ring and his letter. He never found the courage to directly hand it to her.

It’s been three years. Three long painful years. Perhaps, she’s forgotten all about him.

“Tch, as if I’ll let you filths near her.” He brushes his feelings off. Masking his thoughts with harsher words. Some things truly never change.

A flight passes over his head, he’ll probably sit in the next one.

“I hope everything is safe out there, hope there’s no hostility.” Onyakapon mumbles as he closes the briefcase.

And Levi gets off from his wheelchair, limping towards his bedpost. “No harm from a guy in a wheelchair.” He tries to joke, but there’s a prick in his heart.

He can’t pick things from the shelf. Some Days he also needed help to get to the toilet. And even though he’s returning back to Mae, there’s nothing he can do for her now.

And while happiness was never a part of his destiny. He hopes she’s happy. At least one of them must be.

“Well if things are bad, you can always come back here captain.” Onyakapon’s voice cuts through the constant torture of his thoughts.

The words bring him enough solace to take him through the night. A rare smile tugs on his lips. “Thanks Onyakapon.”

It’s going to be a long trip.

_________________________

It’s 10 am, and it’s sweltering hot in Mitras. Sweat clings to Levi’s skin, and he wipes it off with the back of his hand.

His briefcase sits on his lap. And he pushes his wheelchair through the dirt road,

Vast meadows stretch in front of him. The air is fresh, and a plethora of apple trees border the sides of the road. Its shade is very welcome in the sun.

Farmhouses are scattered at a distance, crops grow in structured rows. And Levi taps his heel, as he moves past them mindlessly. His thoughts are only set on one.

Historia told him Mae’s house was at the end of the apple plantation. Luckily the terrain is flat, and he’s able to maneuver his wheelchair with ease.

Nonetheless, it’s been a tiring ride.

The royal guards did offer to escort him to Mae’s house, but he declined the offer. The moment approaching was too personal to share with a bunch of strangers.

Soon, what he’s searching for comes to vision, and eagerly he moves forward.

100 meters away from him, down the mud path, is a humble home. Its stone walls are smooth, worn out by time. And the roof is thatched with wood and straws.

There’s a small garden at the front, with saplings that are beginning to sprout. And a few meters away from it all is a park. The sight of which bubbles a bittersweet feeling in Levi's chest.

“This is it.” He exhales, cherishing the cold air on his lips. It’s a breath that he’s been holding in for too long. A yearning that has been living in his heart for years now.

His mind jogs back to a small trip they took 5 years back, on Mae’s birthday. She had booked a small cabin nestled in the middle of farmland.

He still remembers the smile on her face, and the way her eyes crinkled in the sunlight.

Her hair flowed in the wind, and he thoughtlessly followed it. Too enamored by the happiness she radiated.

The birds sang, and the lillies seemed to beam.

Stories were told by the fireplace, and they would stargaze from the flower field. Cuddling under the sheets of the stiff bed, and eating lunch under a tree's shade.

She laughed, then he smiled. And for a fleeting moment, Levi had escaped from all his responsibilities.

He realized he could spend his entire life this way, under the shadow of the sun, and the warmth of their love. He couldn’t care less about saving the world, or his tea shop even…

He just wanted to be here with her.

Forever.

But time stopped for no one. And Levi’s prayers had a habit of going unheard.

And now, 5 years later, life has brought him here again. In a secluded countryside so full of beauty and peace, and so unlike him.

This is the kind of life Mae had always wanted to live. Away from the bustle of the city, where she could spend countless hours looking at the stars.

The door to her house softly clicks. And Levi leans forward, with his breath caught in his throat.

He has felt her caress in the warmth of the sunlight. He’s heard the faint echo of her laughter in the rustling of the leaves. Every breath, every movement, was just in the hopes that he’d get to see her again.

Seasons passed by like shadows, and now finally he’s finally here, moments away from her. The journey has been staggeringly hard.

Time passes at a lumbering pace, and Levi feels like he can almost hear the creaking of the door, as it gets swinged open.

Out steps a man with a basket in his hand. He’s well built and tall, and donned in a casual attire.

And Levi’s heart drops to the floor as a sickening feeling of jealousy takes over. All of a sudden the blood is thunderous in his ears.

He feels like he can’t breathe And his heart burns at the thought that her gentle smile turns to a man who isn’t him.

A moment later, a toddler comes out, chasing behind the man.

And Levi clutches the sides of his wheelchair so tight, that his knuckles turn white.

Fuck

He feels like he’ll vomit.

Like salt to his wounds, the man picks up the child. And she smiles so bright, he can see her sweet giggle, even though it's barely audible in the distance.

The man kisses the toddler’s cheeks, and takes her to the park. And Levi watches the scene with a sting in his eye.

He was her lover once but now he's a mere bystander. A powerless man who can do nothing but just watch. The realization is like a punch to his gut, and a bittersweet memory comes to Levi’s mind.

On their last night in the cabin, he told Mae he didn’t have the time to get her a birthday present. And then she shed a silent tear, telling him how she felt like she’s carrying the entire relationship.

It wasn’t too far from the truth. He had too much on his mind as a soldier. And life was not easy when the weight of humanity rested on your shoulder. Some days he didn’t even have the time to think of her.

And Levi knew he was being selfish by keeping her chained to him, but his heart didn’t know a way of living without her.

He asked what he could do to make it up to her, and she asked him to run away to a peaceful place.

All she had ever wanted was to stay next to him.

The decision was clear in his head then, but now he wonders if he should have just eloped with her… It's not like all the wars he’s fought have turned this world into an ideal place.

The impermanence of life… It’s something that he still can’t comprehend.

What is born shall die, what has started shall end. People come and go out at their own pace. The good moments turn stale, and eventually everyone ends up alone, with only memories to comfort them. Time is truly a fickle piece of shit.

The man places the toddler on the swing, before he heads the other way. And Levi gets consumed by his thoughts.

He had people who he once held close too. Erwin, Hange, Isabel, Farlan. But they left.

He wasn’t prepared for their deaths, but somehow he made his peace with it.

But he's not ready to let Mae go yet.

Not when her name is etched in the depths of his heart. Not when her thoughts have troubled him day and night. His heart yearns for her so deep, it doesn’t know another way of living.

It was supposed to be his kid, she was supposed to be his wife. He wanted to start his tea shop too. Life just had some other plans after all.

There were days when he didn’t have the strength to get out of his makeshift bed, there were days where his injuries hurt so much, he thought he’d prefer death over the pain of living like this. But he pushed and pushed.

Because at the end of this tunnel, he saw her.

The sweet end of his tiresome journey, The reward for his unyielding perseverance. His home after years of loneliness.

But it’s been three years now. And she’s not his anymore.

A part of him wants to throttle this man, for laying his hands on her. And a part of him wants to hate on her too. But it isn’t her fault as well.

His heart has been placed in the palm of her hand for far too long. And if she decides to break it, then he’ll just have to disseminate.

He guesses he’ll just have to live with the weight of being all alone.

The silence consumes,

And Levi taps his heel in frustration.

Time passes by painfully slowly. And one minute turns into fifteen.

The man and toddler are long gone now, but Levi still continues to bleed on the edge of his seat. He continues to sweat in the heat. Too nervous to move forward, yet too regretful to turn away.

Old habits die hard, he guesses.

The strength to move forward wanes from his body and every breath he takes only shatters his composure into pieces. He never thought he’d have to taste defeat, after winning over the entire world.

There’s some shuffling in the woods, and he swivels around aghast. His reflexes are not as sharp as he used to be. And he’s too exhausted to put on the act of a stone cold person.

He tries honing on the sound of movement but what use would that even be?

Back in the day he had the strength to beat any person to a pulp. But now with his crippled leg, he’s more of a burden, than a lover.

His hands trace back to his scars, a habit he has recently developed. And insecurity floods his mind.

He feels stupid pondering over something as trivial as his appearance. He wouldn’t even pay it a thought when he was in the Survey Corps. But he’s on the way to meet the love of his life and there’s these scars on his face that make him look fucking hideous.

The pit he's falling into is not unfamiliar. It’s something that bothers him everytime he looks into the mirror.

And in the haze of his insecurities. A sweet voice finds him.

“Dadd-a?”

He gasps, slowly turning towards the voice.

A little girl peeks at him from behind a tree trunk. He can’t see much of her, as she’s a few feet away, partly covered between the dense layers of trees. But he recognises her as the same child, who stepped out of Mae’s house a few moments ago.

The silence stretches, and she continues looking at him. With her eyes all wide and beaming. And Levi sighs, not knowing how to react.

He decides he doesn’t have it in him to see Mae or her happy family. He’ll just come back another day, when his heart hurts a little less.

And so he turns his wheelchair around, almost taking a U turn. But the same innocent voice stops him again.

“Dadd-a,” the girl squeals, and her tiny shoes squeak as she waddles towards him.

And Levi feels stumped, when she wraps her tiny body around his leg.

He’s always been quick to react to situations, but now he’s frozen.

He wonders why this little girl is hugging his leg, and how she’s not scared of how scary he looks with the huge scars on his face.

And as much bitterness his heart holds at the cruel turn of fate, her purity washes it away. Slowly, gently, deliberately. His features soften, and he decides the least he can do is drop her back home to safety.

He huffs, bending down to pick her up. And as he lifts her up by her armpits, his eyes are met with the same shade of silver.

Her skin is pale, papery white in complexion and her hair is the same shade of midnight black as his. Everything from the shape of her face to the shade of her lips comes from him. And there’s also a little cravat tucked inside her red polka dot dress.

“Daddaaa,” she chimes as if she recognizes him.

And a shuddered breath escapes his lips. Her smile… It comes from Mae.

She is his. Theirs. A part of him and a part of Mae.

And Levi has faced strong emotions before. He’s had his stomach churn with anxiety, and he’s had his heart overrun with grief and loss. He’s always anticipated all the things that could happen in his future, trudged every moment with caution. But no amount of preparedness could prepare him for the moment in front of him.

His hands tremble, as he puts her down on the floor. He’s a father now… he’s been a father for the past 3 years. It's too much to process. And his heart beats so fast in his chest, he’s afraid it will break out of his ribs.

“Lilly, Lilly,” A familiar voice cuts through the moment and his heart skips a beat.

“How many times have I told you not to-” Mae steps out of the trees, panting and worried. But the sight in front of her makes the words on her tongue scurry away.

Levi is a few meters away from her, in a wheelchair with 2 long scars running down his face, just the way the Queen had foreseen in the paths.

Everyday, she has stared at this road for countless hours, waiting for him to show up. It feels like she’s waited a lifetime to see him again.

The years of separation pass by her eyes.

Countless nights were spent crying into his shirt and every breath felt like a burden.

Everyone was ecstatic about the liberation of their island. And Mae was condemned to be alone, with her dwindling will to live.

Then she met Samuel and Claus, the soldiers who showed empathy to her, in a world that had become too hostile for anyone who supported the alliance.

They took her to the Queen, and the Queen recognised her instantly, as the doctor who helped when Trost was breached.

And as a Survey Corps Soldier who was once a part of the Levi’s squad, the Queen made it her mission to protect and provide for the ones who were close to the Alliance.

That’s when Mae moved into the peaceful countryside, with Jean and Connie’s mom.

Living with people who dealt with the same grief surely gave some solace, but life was still painful. And in the midst of her pain, like a beam of light into stark darkness, her baby came into this world.

And Mae never thought she’d get to see Levi’s eyes again, but they were right in front of her. Resting so peacefully against her chest.

That night she cried tears of gratitude. Life crashed into her as peacefully as it could.

“Mama mama, dadd-a has come back,” Her daughter squeals, with her tiny finger pointing towards Levi. Her grasp on her leg is still tight, and her eyes sparkle with joy.

And Mae tries to smile, but it gets dissolved in the trail of her tears.

This moment has haunted her every second, wrecked her entire being. And as she steps closer to the dream of Levi she’s had, every night since she was pregnant, the details of him come to life.

Her eyes follow the strong curve of his jaw, chiseled as if it has been carved by an artist. The ridge of his nose is sharp as always and his thin eyebrows are slightly disheveled.

She caresses him with her gaze, before her touch can even come close.

Two different Levi’s look back at her now. On the left, his face is marred, with two long scars running down his face. He is hurt and hidden away. And she can never see him through his cloudy iris.

But in his other eye, there are flecks of hope. The black of his pupil has expanded, and his iris shines blue in the sunrays. He wears his heart on his sleeve, Mae swears she has never seen him this vulnerable before.

And she might have lived without him for 3 years, but he has lived inside her every second, in her every thought. Her hand extends towards him out of deprivation.

Life hasn’t been the kindest to her.

But when the pads of her fingers reach the hollow of his cheek, her heart steadies itself. Whenever her eyes met his orbs , her ears met his voice, and her body met his touch. His familiarity always envelopes her. As if the hearth of a warm house, always welcoming and open.

Her hands reach to his lips, the shape of which she can trace on paper, even with her eyes shut close.

And Levi closes his eyes in alleviation.

There’s a search for words. Words for the longing, words for the separation.

And Mae shudders, as the pads of her fingers skim over his skin. They trace over his scars, the old and the new. From the top of his forehead, down to the edge of his chin. From the curve of his necks down the length of his arms.

Three years have passed by, but his features are still as strong.

Her caress reaches the end of his arm, and her fingers find the indents of his knuckles. Gingerly she takes his palm into hers,

And Levi is quick to wrap the 3 fingers that remain on his hand, around her.

Her touch feels both foreign and achingly familiar. He has craved this so much.

Mae’s eyes widen at the gesture, heavy with tears. And she kisses the spot where his 2 fingers once used to be. Levi is as real as ever, she can feel every divot of his skin against her lips.

The realization breaks her, and she drops to the floor. With her head on his lap, and her arms sprawled all over his thighs.

There’s disbelief, there’s elation. The feeling can never be put into words. Her shoulders wilt, heavy with the pain of separation, and she cries into his lap.

“I missed you… You weren’t there.” Her voice is muffled against his skin. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her sobs pierce through the quiet of the farmland.

And he stares wide eyed, biting back his tears as well.

The pain she has carried with her all these years, is right in front of him. Laced into the heavy sobs that rake through her frame.

And Levi knows he should pick her up and kiss the shit of her, but he’s frozen. For his gaze is stuck on the familiar pearl ring that rests on her ring finger.

Words fail him, and his heart spasms in his chest. “D-did y-you ? He can only stutter, as his touch lingers over the pearl. ”A-after all this time?”

The question hangs in the air, but the answer is right in front of him. In the grief that occupies her heart, in the love that still brims in her eyes. And in the tiny girl who looks exactly like him.

It feels like all the sacrifices he’s made in life have finally come to fruition. His directionless quest has finally found its destination. His exhausted soul has found its shelter.

There’s such mercy in this moment, all he can do is shudder and let out an exhale. Maybe in exhaustion, maybe in fulfillment.

And Mae looks up at him, her eyes tinged red with tears. “I was only going to wait one more year, good that you came back in time.”

He puts his hand on her head, and her body trembles beneath his touch. All the grief she has held onto for so long, slows paroles in the form of her tears.

The scene is as heartbreaking, as it is rewarding.

“Ma-ma,” Lilly babbles, her voice as bright as sunlight cutting through storm clouds. And Levi looks at her as she tries to fit herself in the space between Mae’s hunched frame and his legs.

She settles into Mae’s lap, and Mae is forced to look into her eyes full of wonder.

“Mama…” she coos, and her tiny hands wipe the fat tears that roll down Mae’s face.” Dad-da’s back, don-t be sad.”

And Mae smiles at that, certainly she takes a lot from her father.

“You’re right, my love…let’s take Dada home shall we?” Her voice turns gentler, and she gets up with Lily in her arms.

“Levi?” Mae questions, gesturing towards his lap.

And Levi hesitates, a little too afraid that he’s too scary for the delicate human being.

“You’ll be a great father, don’t worry.”

The second time he looks at her, he knows he’s doomed. Her cheeks are round and full, as if there’s food stuffed inside them. And her eyes are just like his, but there’s a brightness in them that he never had.

She settles on his lap. And as he wraps his arms around her waist, she places her tiny palms on his scarred forearms. And Levi realizes there is nothing he wouldn’t do for this tiny person that he’s just met a few moments ago.

His heart feels full of love.

Mae starts pushing his wheelchair forward. And he closes his eyes, as he feels the wind against his face. It’s a moment that makes him feel grateful to be alive.

In a span of a few minutes, they’re already outside the veranda to her house. And Levi can smell the Lavender she has planted in the front garden.

“It’s not a big house but it’s enough. I stay here with Jean and Connie’s mom… Luckily for us though, they’ve gone to Trost for a bit.” Mae speaks, as she picks Lily from Levi’s lap, and places her inside the house.

“It’s a very sweet place though. All the farmers staying around often visit. It’s like a big family. Borris was here too, half an hour back. You might have seen him…he wanted to take some cookies for his son.”

“Ahh,’ Levi drawls, as if he didn’t spend fifteen minutes hating on that man. “I don’t think I saw him.”

She takes his briefcase in one hand, and hooks her other arm around his waist. Slowly helping him up the short flight of stairs. And he wants to do nothing, but melt in her embrace

“I can walk for a few minutes.” Her murmurs, almost embarrassed.

“You’re not walking anywhere until I check your leg myself.” She reprimands, but the softness in her eyes contradicts her strict tone.

As it turns out, Mae’s house is very much a home.

The interior is simple and modest. There’s a couch, two wooden chairs and a table in the front room. The wooden floor creaks as he steps in. And the walls are filled with the crayon marks.

“I’ll get your wheelchair inside.” Mae mumbles as she seats Levi on the couch.

And when Mae comes back in again, Lilly has already managed to climb on the couch. She’s standing on Levi’s lap with her hands on his cheeks. The faintest of smiles plays on Levi’s lips, and he holds her by the waist, making sure she doesn’t lose balance.

The sight makes Mae’s heart swell. Her entire world is now in front of her. Her heart feels so full and so heavy at the same time. And her eyes turn misty again.

“Oi oi, don’t start with all the crying again?” Levi mutters as he notices her standing by the door.

And Mae sniffs, overwhelmed. “I’ll make you some tea?”

“Yaa- Da-dda love teaaa.” Lilly squeals, before Levi can even respond to Mae.

And Mae smiles. Her family is finally complete... a few years back she would have never believed she’d get the privilege of experiencing this.

And just as she’s about to turn towards the kitchen, Levi stops her.

“Mae…” His voice drawls, and he pats the spot next to him. “Tea can wait.”

_________________________

The world outside fades into a quiet hum as the bustle of the morning stretches into the lull of the afternoon.

The sun has draped itself over the earth, like a soft blanket. And Levi rests on the bed. He’s just finished his lunch, and he allows himself to sink into the mattress.

Time seems to have been caught in the gentle sway of the trees, and Levi takes his sweet time looking at the things around him.

Lily's soft toys are stacked on top of the cupboard. And there's a wooden cabinet, filled with all of Mae's favorite books.

The curtains are made of colorful crocheted patchwork. And somehow Mae has managed to bring most of her things from her house in Trost here.

But it's not just that. Levi's stuff is here too.

There’s a cupboard next to Mae with his clothes folded and organized just the way he likes it. His favorite novels and teacups are kept in a separate cabinet. And right in front of the bed, there's a wall with paintings of the three of them together.

It feels like nothing has changed, like he was never away.

And everytime he closes his eyes, his heart begins to race. But for the first time, the adrenaline that flows through him isn’t nerve-racking. It feels exciting

The curtains above his head billow softly with the wind. A mild breeze enters the bedroom and Levi tilts his face to bask in its warmth.

His whole world now lies in his arms. Snoring peacefully, with her hand wrapped around his finger. She's so tiny, that all of her body fits on his torso.

And he lets out a sigh as he feels the subtle rise of her tiny chest against his own.

“Are you not able to sleep, because all of a sudden there’s a child on your chest, and you don’t know where she came from?” Mae steps into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“I can clearly tell where she comes from.” Levi comments as he looks at his dear daughter. “Is this why you were crying so much the day I was leaving for Marley?”

“Mhmm… “ Mae nods, as she rests her back against the door. And Levi closes his eyes, listening to her voice.

“You had to save the world Levi, you had to give it your all. And you would have died hating yourself if you knew you had a child coming into the world, that you weren’t going to be there for… As much as I was dying to tell you about my pregnancy, I thought it was best to keep it from you…” It’s an uncomfortable topic that defines the rest of their future, Mae’s eyes fall to the ground.

If only she would look up, she would see Levi with the faintest of smiles, thinking of how he can actually see her instead of imagining her.

“I know a child was never something you wanted… So I understand how complicated this situation can be for you.” Mae goes on and Levi lays still with his eyes shut in contentment, hoping for time to slow down.

“What?” She gasps, finally looking up at him. “Say something? I’ll never know how you’re feeling if you don’t tell me about it.”

Finally his eyes flutter open, and he looks at her through the curtain of his lashes. A faint smile plays on his lips, and his cheeks turn pink as he stretches out his other hand towards her. “Come here.”

In an instant, her features soften, turning into one of relief. And she smiles as makes her way to him.

She rests her head on his shoulder.And he drinks in every detail. As if he’s a parched man, dying of thirst. His heart pounds in his chest, and then his gaze falls towards her lips.

It doesn’t take too long for their lips to fuse together. It’s a simple kiss, but it’s been years.

They part in bliss.

And Levi brings her hands to his lips, pressing a doting kiss on her skin. She’s his to keep, his to salvage.He can’t put his gratitude into words.

“Thank you.” His voice is heavy. “ I-I…” He wants to tell her how happy he is to be next to her. He wants to tell her how exhausting it was without her. And that he can’t believe she’s all his. He wants to tell her about all the letters he’s written to her. But his heart is lodged so deep in his throat that he can’t squeak out the words he desperately wants to say.

“Rest my love.” She keeps her thumb on his lip, tracing his bottom lip. “We have time.”

His eyes flutter shut at her words, and her hand reaches to the top of his head. She starts combing out the hair that falls on his forehead.

His old scars have faded, almost blending into his skin. And the hard muscles on his chest have been replaced with soft dimpled skin. The lines in the corner of her eyes run deep.

He’s softer now. Marked by age, but just as beautiful.

Her finger traces down his cheek, following the scar that runs across his face. The feeling of his skin dipping under her fingers almost feels overwhelming.

“Levi,” she calls, caressing the side of his face. And he responds by leaning into her touch.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” She murmurs.

The silence is blissful.

And Levi feels his heart flutter, just like it did when she held his hand for the first time.

“Mae…” his voice trails off and he gulps. “How did Lily recognise me?... It feels like she knows so much about me?”

And Mae tilts her head up. “She’s heard stories about you ever since she was in my womb, of course she knows a lot about you… We even got someone to draw a portrait of you last year, because she wanted to see you for her birthday.”

“She thinks you’re some kind of hero Levi.” Mae yawns, “A few months back, she was trying to eat food by herself, and she ended up making a mess… which was fine because she was just learning, but she started crying frantically, and I asked her what happened? She said Dada wouldn’t like her, because she made a mess and Dada hates messes.”

Mae’s eyes trail to the way her daughter sleeps, with her cheek squished against Levi’s chest, and her eyes are shut close in peace. “She thinks you’re some kind of hero.”

And Levi remains silent. Afraid the words will ruin the tender moment.

It might seem like he’s dozed off, but the pink crawling on his cheek tells otherwise.

And Mae looks at him with the softest of smiles. For the first time in a long while, her heart feels complete.

“Actually she is right… you are a hero.” She mumbles as she closes her eyes in peace.

And a single tear slips past his eye.

He’s finally home.

Thoughts? Thoughts? Thoughts?

I know its a very simple, cliche, happily ever after ending, but I really REALLY wanted Levi to have a family of his own, and experience a normal, happy life, which is why I made Mae pregnant lol.

To anyone who has made this far. I would love to know your thoughts on the entire story. Things you liked, didn't like. Your feedback is crucial.

I'm going to start editing this fic from now on, and whatever you say will be considered. So I would love to know your thoughts on what could get better and be improved.

Something else, I'm very excited about is designing and illustrating a book cover (since I am a graphic designer lol) and get a few hardcopies printed for myself!! I'm assuming I'll be done with it by DEC 25th, so right now I do plan to post an Epilogue/ bonus chapter and share the book cover designs on Dec 25th. (I don;t know if anyone is interested in this, but I'm just doing it for myself hehe)

I would like to thank the many people who have been a constant support while writing this. I don't think I can tag everyone since they are on different platforms, so I'll just mention their names here. @Alexandra218943 , Cupidcup, @musumusuhasi and Abha , I wouldn't have completed this without you, so thank you <3

And to all the people who have commented, and interacted with the story at any point. I want to let you know that I've had a shit month at work, my self esteem has been at an all time low , and the only thing that's made me feel capable of something are your comments, and I keep going back to them! So thank you for that, I am immensely grateful!

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chaosduckies · 4 months ago

Text

Friends In Small Places (Chapter 4)

As I’ve mentioned when I had first started writing this, this piece is meant to be gloomy. So, I give you the fearplay chapter. I’m so sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy! (I have no idea how to feel about this scene-) Also, I get to put my three years of spanish classes to use :D (Translations are included)

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, slight gore mentioned

4-Liam

A week can pass by quickly.

Cas and I have been slowly getting to know each other a little more. Not a whole lot since some topics were a little too hard for him to talk about. Classes at college were getting even more tiring, and before I could ask to take the classes online it turns out that they had already handled it when I brought up the subject. So, now I was practically staying at Cas’s house almost all of the time. Although it isn’t too bad, I’ve noticed something about his behavior. He likes to stay close by me.

It’s not a bad thing, I’m not complaining at all, it’s just that it’s nerve wracking whenever he asks if I’m okay with him sitting near me. I’m not used to him all that much. I know most people are fine with being around shifters but of course I’ve believed all my life that most shifters were scary, intimidating even. It’ll just take some time to get used to living with one I guess. After all, I was supposed to be a therapist.

Today I was just writing some notes while Cas sat on the floor, a bright smile on his face as he looked at his phone. I was about to ask what that was about, but then I remembered him telling me something about seeing his parents sometimes this week. Was that today? If it was I should probably get ready. The only thing I knew was that I was required to be there the entire time. They didn’t tell me what was going to happen, how long it would be, but I’m sure Cas would tell me on our way there.

I shut my computer closed, placing my notebook on top of it before shoving it into my bag and glancing over at Cas. He seemed excited to meet with his parents. I would be too if I had been separated for however long. Then again I live in an entire different city than my parents. They do like calling every once in a while though. I don’t think they let Cas have his own parents phone number.

“Excited?” I mumbled, walking a little bit closer. I’m pretty sure we’ll have to leave soon. It was already noon and I was mainly waiting on a text or a call that explains that his parents were ready to see him. For some reason he’s not allowed to go in early which I find is kind of irrational, but I can’t just go against them. Heck, I wasn’t even supposed to be part of this organization.

“Mhm. Last time we were only allowed an hour to talk.” He smiled sadly at me, still looking positive about today’s outcome. I do hope he gets to see them today. I think he needs this. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as excited to see their parents as Cas was.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but how old are you?” I asked, looking up curiously. He can’t be more than three years younger than me. He doesn’t go to school, and I doubt he’s any older than myself.

“Eighteen. I know, I act like a child.” He chuckled, messing with his hands. Nervous? I don’t really think I could do anything about that. Actually, for someone who has depression and struggles with emotions, he doesn’t lose control a whole lot. Only ever twice has he in front of me, minus the times where he starts growing a couple feet from either watching someone thing or thinking about something. I try my hardest to shut it down before anything bad could happen. Last time I freaked out and couldn’t do anything useful to help him.

“I don’t think you act like a child.” I laughed, hearing my phone go off. I hurried to pick it up, seeing Cas quite literally beam with a shocked smile. I told them we’d be right there, and then carefully climbed into his hands. Today would be a good day. I don’t know why I get the feeling something bad will happen. It’s just the way they had sounded on the phone…

��—————

The building looked relatively normal on the outside, with a fancy look that had screamed “We’re rich,” there were different sized doors, but what caught me off guard was that there was an entire security system right at the front that makes sure you’r not bringing a weapon. Cas set me down near the human-sized doors, telling me to just do what they say and we’ll eventually meet up again. It’s kind of awkward taking instructions from someone younger than me, but he’s been here for much, much longer.

I went through security, answered a few questions, like who I was with, how long I would prefer the visit time be, mostly questions about Cas if I were being honest. Was this why he was only allowed a singular hour to talk last time? Because he had someone else? I don’t really mind spending a few hours here. What could go wrong? I answered as long as Cas and his parents were going to be here. I’d feel bad if I set a time limit. Plus, I’m sure his parents would love to spend some more time with him.

Eventually they lead me to a huge waiting room, where I was guessing I would be able to keep an eye on Cas. I was I trusted to stay in there in case something goes wrong, but I sincerely doubt it. What was there to be upset about in the first place? I think everything would be fine. I was just staying on the sidelines anyways. Maybe meet his parents, talk for a while. Heck, maybe I’ll even get to know a little more about him. Cas doesn’t answer some questions I have. All for good reason I hope, it’s not like I was going to force it out of him anyways. That would just be plain wrong.

Out side of the room, Cas had walked in, standing up near the platform I was guessing they’d be at. Weren’t they supposed to take me up there too? A woman wearing a suit walked into my holding room, taking a seat right next to me, “Kayla Cruz. I was Casper’s old therapist.” She giggled, holding her hand out. Oh? What was she doing here then? Why was she replaced by me of all people? She certainly looked like she was more trained for this job than I was. Something wasn’t right here.

“Oh, um, Liam Rover. It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled, shaking her offered hand and watching as Three people wearing a guard outfit instructed Cas about something to which he nodded to. Wasn’t I supposed to be up there? I think I know which way to go to get up to him. I guess I can wait an extra couple of minutes. I have no idea why, but I had a bad feeling about everything. Maybe I could ask Ryan later? I know the person he was placed with is a shifter who can only reduce their size, was this really any different? I’d have to ask.

The woman next to me watched, a frown on her face as she looked at Cas, a worried look on his face. His eyes darted all around the room, still waiting for when his parents walk through the safety of the doors high above where I was sitting. Was it supposed to take this long? Why was I the one worried? Was it just a feeling?

Th woman next to me glared at me from the corner of her eye, a smirk appearing on her face, “They told you he was meeting with his parents today?” She leaned back in the seat. I nodded my head, confused. “It’s technically true, but the company has deemed Casper here too mentally unstable to meet with anyone but shifters and his corresponding therapist, which would be you.”

My heart sank.

What the hell. This was just wrong! I have to go up there before they do anythi- I stared up at the platform, seeing a singular guard walk in, say something to Cas, have a short conversation that made his eyes grow wide and slide slowly down the metal-looking wall behind him. My eyes darted around the room, searching for a door to go and help him. Of course I was terrified about what they’ve done, mostly the outcome of what’s about to happen, but it’s not like I can just leave him here. I know what they do to shifters who can’t control their emotions. Their either sent off to a special captivity prison, or they… I can’t think about that right now. I am not about to become the reason Cas gets sent to a place like that. I don’t have the heart in me to do so.

I found a door that looked like it lead to the room, and almost as if they knew I was searching for it, it unlocked. I threw it open, rushing out, my heart beating fast and uncontrollable. My legs were about to give out from underneath me, breath shaky, my mind screaming at me to get the hell out of here. But I don’t. I knew what was about to happen. They weren’t letting Cas see his parents. I heard slight screaming and yelling in another room that sounded like a woman’s and crying from a kid. But I didn’t focus on that right now. I was more worried about the situation in front of me.

What do I do? Something tells me this isn’t going to be anything like that other time. Cas has always watched how he reacts to things, what he does, but right now he’s not. He’s most definitely depressed, and there was just something else I couldn’t pin point. People do dumb things while they’re upset. They regret it all later, so it would be best if I make sure Cas doesn’t so anything he’ll regret. Because then that’s an entire different problem to deal with after this one.

“Cas!” I managed to scream at the top of my lungs, knees buckling underneath me, but I force them to keep me standing upright as his gaze falls onto me. I jumped, chest heaving up and down as I struggled to find the words to say. My body was frozen in fear, not even able to move a single limb from it’s place. He winced when his legs uncomfortably hit the wall opposite of him. I didn’t know what to do. It’s almost like… they wanted him to lash out. Why would they want that? Soon enough, guards ran in, yelling orders while one tugged at me to head back inside, but I didn’t move. Instead, I rushed forward, avoiding the somehow careful limbs that were trying to move into a compact position on the floor.

A guard was running after me, but I guess someone held him back since I was somehow gaining ground when I was running extremely slow and tripping every once in a while. I found Cas’s head, seeing him scrunched up as much as he could manage as of right now. He laid on the ground, arms and hands covering his face and knees up against the chest. He still realizes that he can hurt people. Maybe I can actually do this? Still, the size difference between us is huge.

Cas wasn’t crying or anything. Just mumbling words I surprisingly couldn’t make out. He didn’t sound angry. Just upset. That makes it easier to deal with. People do horrible things out of anger. And I could only imagine how devastating it would be if Cas wasn’t thoughtful enough to watch himself.

I found his head, buried underneath his arms and muttering incomprehensible words to himself. He groaned a bit, slightly turning his body to face the wall, moving his arms away from his face to lay them down. I guess he didn’t see that I was so close to him because his arm almost killed me. I quickly jumped out the way just before I would’ve been nothing but a pile of flesh and bones on the ground. My heart skipped a beat, unable to stare at the spot on the ground where I could’ve died. My breathing became a ragged, and the sounds close to me were slightly muffled, but it’s not like anyone was saying anything important to me.

Cas turned his head, eyes meeting my frozen minuscule frame and gasping. He moved his arm away from me, doing his best to slowly sit up without alarming the multiple guards in the room, along with the weapons they probably have imbedded in the room itself. I could tell he was still upset, but right now I was too focused on the fact that I could have died. That reminded me just how much power Cas had over me. Even if I was the one who was watching over him.

“L-Liam I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-“ He tried apologizing, voice hitching just before sucked in a sharp breath. My entire body was shaky, but I forced my legs to push me back up and walk over to the towering being. More people had walked in, Cas pressed his back closer to the wall scared. He knew what was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen. I just had to make sure it wasn’t the worst possible outcome of the the two. I don’t think I could handle the guilt that way.

The week I’ve spent with Cas has been amazing really. Even though sometimes I get a little jumpy from the fast movements, or feel uncomfortable at times when he’s around me, Cas really isn’t bad at all. We’ve hung out for a while, watched movies, played a few games. I think we’re friends? With that thought in mind I’d hate to see them take him to a place he doesn’t even deserve to be in. Of course I was afraid of him still, instincts and all, but I don’t want him to end up being alone.

I stood up, taking shaky breaths as I tried my hardest to stay upright. Come on I’m not even hurt- I was just terrified. Shocked. A little unstable right now even. If I had tried talking to Cas now he wouldn’t hear me. The distance between my and himself was huge. I looked back up at him, taking deep breaths. He stared worriedly at the people making their way in, looking ready to advance if he tries anything.

“I’m not scared. I’m totally fine.” I kept muttering to myself. It usually worked when I felt like this. It’s what my dad would keep telling me. Little did he know that I was terrified of everything going on around me right now.

Cas’s attention turned to me, a hand reaching taking up my vision as I stood frozen in fear. The next the thing I knew I was pinched tightly between two of his fingers, arms pinned to my sides and barely able to move any part of my body. The pressure against my chest increased, threatening to break my ribs. That was the least of my worries. I couldn’t breathe right now.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you like that!” He freaked out, holding me dangerously close to his face. He’s not being his usual careful self, but that was expected when a person was upset. I gasped for air, trying to free my arms from the prison I was in currently, but Cas just kept looking over the the people on the ground that was far, far below me and muttering words in a language I couldn’t hear.

My heart was racing fast as my lungs had begged me for air. I managed to free one of my arms, and I forced my voice to work for once, “Cas!”

“…Lo siento. Lo siento mucho. Estoy arruinando todo...” (*Translation: I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I’m ruining everything…*)He kept on muttering over and over again, and it just makes me wish I had paid attention to my spanish classes in high school. Something about him being sorry? I think have much, much bigger problems at hand though.

Cas shifted me in his literal death grip, allowing me to breathe, but he was pressing down harder, and a sharp pain erupted from my leg, but I was fueled by the adrenaline.

“Cas!” I screamed again, trying to pull myself out of his grip. His eyes darted to me, wide and shocked. It took him a moment to realize, but he let go, laying me down in his open palm, running a hand through his hair. I coughed for air, wincing when I checked out the leg that felt like it was on fire. Most likely broken, but nothing I couldn’t handle. It was fine though. I know he didn’t mean to. But still, my fear never wavered at the fact that he could quite literally kill me by not even trying to.

“¿Estás bien? I-I didn’t mean to-“ I nodded my head, biting down hard on the bottom of my lip. It’s okay, you know him good enough to know that he wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. I had to remind myself before gathering up my remaining courage to actually do my job.

“Cas, just take a few breaths, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I had only hoped he heard over how shaky my voice was. He slowly nodded his head, I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them the ground wouldn’t be so far from me. When I peaked out, the ground was a bit closer, people stood on the ground, frozen in either fear or shock. I calmed my heart down enough to actually get a few more words in.

“Feeling a little better?” I asked, putting on the best smile I could manage right now. He slightly nodded again, continuing to take slow breaths.

“What happened?” I asked calmly, genuinely worried about what was said before I rushed in through here. Cas eyes me sadly, wincing, “I won’t… be able to see my parents for a long time.” He whispered, suddenly aware of everything around him again. He moved further into the wall, away from the people below us.

“And that means?…” He bit the bottom of his lip, “Apparently I’m too unstable to even see my own family.” He sighed, and I could tell he wanted to cry, but he knew what would happen if he gave into those feelings.

“I-I have a little brother. He loves trying to climb up anything he can,” He started laughing sadly, “You can imagine how much fun he has when he and my parents come for visits.” He sniffled a little, smiling. Oh. Oh. He’s calming down in his own way.

Why was the world so adamant on having people watch over the “dangerous” shifters? Cas doesn’t need me… and maybe shifters don’t actually need anyone to watch over them.

“Yeah?” I smiled, laughing with him while he seemed to have calmed down.

“… I’m sorry, Liam.” He pressed me up agianst the bridge of his nose, this time a lot more gentle. I winced from the sharp pain in my leg, but sucked it up. I think Cas needs this. Even if I was scared he’d accidentally hurt me again.

Cas let me down, facing the crowd on the ground that had rushed to help me up, limping the entire way until multiple people were talking behind me, rushing into places. I turned back, ignoring the warning from the people helping me. Cas gave a sad smile as the red band on his wrists started blinking, clasping themselves together like magnetic handcuffs. Cas sighed.

I heard people in another room yelling, even a child’s voice. It’s his parents. I gasped, finding a door to another room I haven’t been in, seeing a guard and a person with a suit and tie in there. Through the small window, I saw a tall man trying to comfort his wife, who sat crying on the bench while the child stared, screaming at the guard to let him see his brother. My heart sank.

They weren’t going to kill Cas. I knew they wouldn’t. I just hoped I would be allowed to see him in the hospital they’ll be placing him in. This wasn’t right. Not at all.

——————

Aghhh plot build up my beloved. This chapter leads up to something reallyyy important for later.

Aww all Cas wanted was to see his little brother 🥺

I hope you enjoyed! I have no idea how to feel about this chapter if I’m being honest, but I hope it’s alright TwT work is affecting my writing grahhhh. Thank you for reading though!

The drawing I did for this chapter is right here!

Taglist: @da3dm (If you would like to be added, leave a note or dm me! :D)

#G/t #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t community #Friends in small places #oc: casper #oc: liam #my writing #aghhh idk how to feel about this one either #My writing style is just going down-#I hate it so much #I hope it goes back to normal #currently three in the morning #But I do not care #I said I would post this chapter no matter what #And here I am #I hope you guys enjoyed #Thank you for reading!#love you guys ❤️

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