#the way he flexed his hand when they shook it SO LONG AGO HE STILL DOES IT

[astraystayreblogs]

MY GOOOOOD I REACHED TAG LIMIT BUT I CAN'T COPE

the whole breakup, it's perfect, very sad AND MY HEART HURTS but it's so in accord to her character, like it would be foolish to expect another outcome, your reasoning for the twin flames and it being too intense, too scary to face a mirror of yourself with the good, ugly and bad IS SO RIGHT and well thought. they both love each other, but they're scared of what revealing themselves would entail- having to face their own shortcomings and take their own advice. chan is so self-giving because he feels as if he has to, or else she'd leave AND THAT THOUGHT HURTS, and her feeling as if she's taking too much from chan and not wanting history to repeat itself, like, you've created such deeply well thought characters with so many layers that show through brilliantly in their actions and words. i hope you're proud of yourself because you're a phenomenal writer.

and the phone convo with Iseul, how everything came crashing down, HOW SHE NOW FEELS COLD AFTER LEAVING CHAN'S APARTMENT AND NOT COMING BACK I WILL CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP

and then Chan's breakdown just really twisted the knife inside me,,, the good boy bit, the way he sobbed i am unwell. and Minho!!!! he was just trying to protect Chan because he knows firsthand the consequences of what his ex did to him, but he doesn't realize that he just further cemented the ugly ideas yn has of herself. the way everything crashed down was so perfectly written, just THIS IS PHENOMENAL WRITING I'm kissing your brain rn

I CAN'T WAIT FOR BB5 MY BELOVED I HOPE SHE'LL FIX MY HEART CAUSE YOU SHATTERED IT, BUT BEAUTIFULLY SO.

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 04

note: this is part 4 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, self-sabotaging behavior, self-loathing thoughts, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, lots of crying (sorry), brief mention of blood

word count: 16.9k

“Do you believe in twin flames?” 

Chan’s question hung in the air for a moment, changing the atmosphere so drastically that you weren’t quite sure how to react. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a less-than-appropriate giggle.

“You don’t?” his voice came quieter this time.

“It’s not that,” you tried to contain your amusement. “It’s just…what a very Bang Chan thing of you to ask.”

Even through the dim light of your living room, you could tell that the smile he flashed you didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was being serious, you realized with a start, at least to some degree. 

“I mean,” you paused, searching for the right answer to such a heavy question—if there even was one. “I guess it’s something you can only believe in once you experience it for yourself, right?”

It was Chan’s turn to hesitate, nibbling on his lower lip in silence. Whether he was holding back what he really wanted to say, or simply lost in thought, you couldn’t decide.

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno,” he said slowly. “Just wondering.”

“Huh. Really?”

It was a vague explanation, and you knew better than to accept it at face value. Knowing Chan, he wouldn’t have even raised such a topic with you if it hadn’t been weighing on his mind for some time now, longer than he himself may have even been aware of. The concept was more or less a mystery to you; a special sort of relationship that, judging by name alone, was brimming with intensity, if not defined by it. You wondered just how deeply Chan had immersed himself in its ideals, if it was one of those philosophies he’d adopted into his heart and spent sleepless nights thinking about, despite the superstition of it all, just as a way to understand the world around him—the people around him. Maybe, even, to understand himself. 

“I’ve just never really felt like this before,” an awkward chuckle escaped him, as if to lessen the gravity of what he was implying. “I feel like you can see right through me.”

See right through me. 

Your heart leapt in your chest. Immediately, you understood what he meant; the exact same phenomenon you’d been trying to wrap your head around since the day you’d first met him. You’d been so caught up in your concerns over how effortlessly he seemed to read you—seeing past every carefully crafted guise you could conjure up like it didn’t even exist—that you hadn’t ever considered he might be experiencing the same feeling on his end. The feeling of knowing each other long before you’d ever crossed paths. 

It had a strange effect on you. Elation. Dread. Had you felt like this before? In a certain sense, you knew that you had. 

The familiar foolishness of being prepared to give someone your all—of stubbornly believing that, somehow, you would never run out of things to give. At the same time, though, it couldn’t be more different. Chan couldn’t be more different. For the first time, you were faced with an unexpected obstacle in your efforts to trudge mercilessly down the path to your own detriment. He wasn’t there to usher you along like so many had before, feeding off your every step until your legs inevitably gave out from under you. He was there to guide you down a different path—one that was infinitely more pleasant, and one that you were infinitely less acquainted with. 

It couldn’t be more different because now, with every drop of yourself that you so willingly offered up to him, you fretted over what you might be draining from him in return. Chan was, after all, every bit as self-sacrificing as you, and then some. 

That didn’t even begin to cover everything else that surrounded your relationship. The magnetic pull that drew you to him wherever you roamed, the burning sensation that consumed your body any time he so much as crossed your mind, the insatiable desire to open him up and witness him in his entirety—to know every part of him like it was your own. 

If those were the kinds of things twin flames entailed, then, yes, you believed in them. You’d believe in anything that connected you to him. 

It dawned on you, suddenly, that you hadn’t spoken for what was probably an unsettling amount of time. The slightest bit frantic, you combed your brain for an answer, overtaken by an urge to reassure the boy next to you before he made the decision to never share an even remotely personal thought with you again. You didn’t doubt that he would. Despite his seemingly endless levels of understanding, Chan was sensitive. He wouldn’t forget.

“Did I say something wrong?” he chuckled again. It wasn’t even awkward this time, just bordering on defeated.

“No, no,” you cursed yourself for even giving him the chance to second-guess such an idea, for giving him any more reason to believe that opening up to you could ever be a mistake. “I was just caught off guard. Sorry, Channie.”

You shifted in your spot, turning inwards to get a better look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact—nothing new there—but it wasn’t just his usual timidity at play. It was something you could only describe as akin to shame, the expression of someone who had overestimated his importance and was now berating himself for ever having the audacity to assume he mattered. You decided, instantly, that it was a look you never wanted to see cross his face again.

“I think it’s the same for me.”

You didn’t think, you knew. You knew it better than anything else. Still, it was difficult to say out loud, even when Chan was sitting before you, looking ready to bare himself to you with a sincerity that you may not entirely deserve. 

He perked up a bit, and you relaxed the instant that fog of uncertainty cleared from his face, brightening it once more. “Really?”

“Do you…” you prayed that you wouldn’t sound completely insane in what came out of your mouth next. “Do you feel it, too? That weird sort of heat?”

His eyes widened, fingers flexing where they rested on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I feel it. When we first met, I thought you had a fever or something.”

A wave of sentimentality crashed over you all at once. You thought back to that day; that horribly clumsy first encounter that had you certain Chan would tell Changbin to please keep his strange friend far, far away from him in the future. The encounter that had ignited something you hadn’t been able to explain—something you still couldn’t explain, even six months later.

“I thought you were a human pressure cooker.”

“A pressure cooker?” he grinned, actually taking a moment to consider it. “I kinda am.”

That ever-present tug found your heartstrings again. But you knew he’d intended on it being light, a playful jab at himself that was truer than he seemed to understand. So, you didn’t dwell on it.

“Guess we’ve got the flames part down, then,” you joked.

“I’ve been reading about them.” His eyes twinkled, now encouraged. “They’re not exactly soulmates—more like two parts of the same soul. Kinda like you’re holding up a mirror to yourself.”

“Sounds poetic,” you murmured. He was speaking so earnestly, like he’d been longing for the opportunity to share these thoughts with someone all his life. You might’ve accepted anything he said in that moment as an absolute truth. “So, how do you know if you’ve found yours?”

“Lots of ways.” He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Shared experiences, for one. Uncanny similarities, and that feeling of…” he trailed off briefly, features softening. “Like you’re a part of each other, y’know?”

Each example stirred something deeper and deeper within you, rattling the windows and doors of your mind. Shared experiences. Uncanny similarities. A part of each other. Memories from that night two weeks ago swarmed you, demanding all your focus and ripping you away from the present conversation all at once. Chan’s flow of tears, his vulnerability, his dependence on you. How the cracks you’d caught glimpses of in just one of the many, many walls he’d put up finally spread far enough to send the entire structure crumbling unceremoniously to the ground. 

Not only that, but his uncontainable guilt the next day, and every day that followed. His profuse apologies for allowing you to see him like that, his promises to make it up to you, and, most heartbreaking of all, his subtle spike in attachment, as if he was afraid that now that you’d discovered a side to him that dared to be anything less than accommodating—anything less than convenient for you—you’d pack up and leave without a second thought. No matter how many times you’d reassured him that it was fine, good even, to allow himself to lean on you, he was nevertheless determined to return the favor. As if it was transactional, as if you couldn’t possibly have been there for him simply because you wanted to be. Because you loved him.

You were all too conscious of the fact that your promise to him back in July hadn’t been forgotten. The clock was ticking, with each passing second serving as a wrench to the bolts you’d kept so tightly wound up all these months—all your life, really. If Chan’s feelings were anything like yours, you knew he must be hungry for it, the opportunity to loosen the bolts himself and peer into what was buried inside. 

It was as invigorating as it was terrifying. The fear of being known, the comfort of being understood.

“A part of each other,” you echoed. “That’s…

“Kinda scary, yeah?”

“A little,” you admitted. “But I think my parts are in pretty good hands.”

Chan beamed, eyes crinkling and teeth peeking out under heart-shaped lips, flooding his face with a glow that washed away any remaining trace of his earlier reservations. Despite yourself, you smiled back, choosing selfishly to fall into his warmth. It wasn’t in short supply—not in the slightest, it was limitless—but inexplicably, you always held yourself back just a bit. 

Even now, you couldn’t escape that survival instinct, that pesky voice in the depths of your brain telling you to take him in moderation, to keep a distance before you grew accustomed to something you weren’t sure you’d be able to go back to living without. But it was a losing battle from the start, and it was far too late to fight it now, anyway. 

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, sending a gentle ripple of heat through your skin and pulling you out of the hole you’d been digging in your head. Before he could ask what you were thinking about—and he was going to, you could feel his flicker of curiosity—you spoke up again, throwing out a question of your own.

“How about you? Do you like your reflection?”

He studied your face, and the lapse in his reply might have made you panic if you weren’t so taken by the fact that, miraculously, he was holding your stare for longer than just a precious few seconds. Your fingers twitched against his, resisting the impulse to reach up and brush them over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “For once, I do.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October’s pleasant chill came to an end, leaving behind a harsher cold spell for the incoming winter months. Bright orange leaves, once providing a golden canopy of light overhead, now littered the ground, dead and dull. Still, it was a sight to admire in its own way—a paper sheet shielding the grass from November’s sharp winds and more frigid temperatures, like the leaves had chosen to sacrifice themselves for the sake of protecting everything else. 

You tried not to think about it, how dangerously close graduation was drawing. The view of the finish line on the horizon wasn’t exactly a comforting one, not when it led right into another race—one that would be even more critical than the last. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean for you once your final semester was complete; what it would mean for your studies, your home, your friendships, Chan. The question of where you would go from here was always lingering in the back of your mind, and no matter how much it haunted your thoughts, you still hadn’t managed to find a sufficient answer. All you knew for sure was that whatever path you walked next, you wanted to be side by side with him, matching your steps and feeling your hand brush against his with each swing.

On a less cynical note, the uncertainty of where the future might take you made days like today all the more valuable, reminding you that, regardless of the tricks nostalgia might play, there were always new memories to be made and cherished. You shoved your hands into your pockets with a shiver as you entered the bowling alley, longing for Chan now more than ever. Just one touch from him, and all the cold nagging at your bones from the walk there would dissipate in an instant.

You felt his warmth begin to spread through your skin as soon as you spotted that familiar head of curls near the front counter. His hair swayed with the rest of his body as he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking absentminded. If you drew close enough, you had no doubt you’d catch a snippet of whatever melody he was sure to be humming. 

Before his presence could fully relax you, however, you registered who was standing there next to him, effectively countering his heat with a sharp chill down your spine. You hadn’t known he was coming. Changbin hadn’t told you he was coming. If he had, you surely would’ve found some excuse to stay home, or, at the very least, prepared yourself to deal with the guy who had so diligently been playing the role of bane of your existence these past months.

Channeling all your strength, you forced a smile and called out a greeting to the group. 

Two pairs of eyes lit up, and one pair narrowed.

“You’re here!” Changbin piped. He elbowed Chan lightly, a self-righteous look crossing his face. “See? I told you we weren’t late.”

You kept your expression calm as you approached them, but it did little to ebb the unease steadily piling up in your stomach. Without a word, Chan’s hand reached out for yours, and you wove your fingers together, barely suppressing an exhale when warmth kindled in your palm.

“I’ve just learned to give it an extra ten minutes before leaving to meet up with you, Bin,” you teased.

It was lighthearted, but he seemed to sense that you weren’t entirely joking. You exchanged an amused glance with Chan as Changbin’s smug look dropped into the frown of someone whose peace had been disturbed, suddenly reevaluating every occasion where he’d so gleefully believed that he was becoming more punctual.

“That’s messed up,” he huffed. “Maybe next time I just won’t show up at all.”

“You say that like you haven't done it before.”

“And as soon as I did, you stole my best friend.” He looked dramatically off to the side, passing your bowling shoes to you. “On second thought, I’d better stick around.”

Half-embarrassed, you cleared your throat and hooked your fingers under the cuffs of the shoes, surprised to find that he’d chosen the right size for you. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, you found your answer—or, rather, you felt it, in the palm of your other hand. You kept quiet to avoid setting yourself up for more playful jabs, but the affection that buzzed to life in your chest was too much to ignore altogether, instead manifesting as a grateful squeeze to Chan’s hand. It was something you weren’t quite used to, something you weren’t sure you’d ever get really used to: care down to the last little detail.

You’d made it a point thus far to stay focused solely on Chan and Changbin, not keen on confronting the source of the tension looming behind your smile. It was probably best not to utter a word to him, anyway, given the direction your conversations veered into every single time without fail. Regardless of which approach you took, regardless of how tightly you gripped the steering wheel, it always spun into something uncontrollable.

But as your eyes wandered casually over to the empty lanes further inside the building, you made the grave mistake of locking them with his—fleeting, but just enough to make your gut twist. You tore your stare away as soon it landed on him, bracing yourself for that inevitable surge of frost, a glare that spoke a thousand scornful words. 

“Hey.”

You wondered for a moment if you’d imagined it, or if Lee Minho was really speaking to you on his own accord. Granted, it was just a simple greeting, but strangely void of his usual disgust when addressing you.

It put you at a complete loss, thoughts scrambling to decipher what his angle could possibly be. You had half a mind to not even respond, but you knew that wasn’t an option when Chan and Changbin were right there, well within earshot. Instead, you settled for nodding at him with a quiet “Hello.”

“You look cold,” he commented.

“Well, it’s cold out.”

Not your most eloquent response. In your defense, you were still trying to make heads or tails of why he was bothering to acknowledge you. His words felt like a taunt in your paranoid mind, like somehow, he was fully aware of the chill that gripped you every time he so much as glanced your way. Mistrust bubbled up inside you, threatening to burst through the surface when he shot you a half-smile that was sickeningly sweet—far too sweet to be natural. To anyone else, it was nothing but friendly, but you knew better than that by now. The closer you looked, the more reminiscent it became of his usual sneer. 

“It’s a relief you’ve got someone to call on if you get sick, then.” He cocked his head towards Chan.

Suddenly, the gears fell into place in your head, making it very clear what Minho’s intentions were. You might have found it admirable, how seamlessly he put on the act, if not for the minor detail of it being positively infuriating. 

“I make a pretty good galbitang, didn’t you know?” 

Minho’s smirk faltered just barely, but before he could say anything else, Changbin finished up with the cashier and clapped his hands together with a bit too much force, startling everyone in the vicinity. 

“We’re all set!” he announced, turning to you.“Hope you’re good at bowling, ‘cause you’re gonna be carrying Chan.”

“Hey, hey!” the boy in question protested. “I score the most out of any of us!”

“A whole eight points,” Minho quipped.

Chan gritted his teeth, still, good-natured as ever. “That…was an off day.”

You willed yourself to chuckle in spite of the bad taste Minho had left in your mouth, for Chan’s sake, if nothing else. It was difficult to envision him not immediately excelling at anything he put his mind to, especially in the realm of sports. Given Changbin’s snickers, though, you had a sneaking suspicion that the jeers held some truth to them.

The four of you made your way over to the first open station, slipping on your bowling shoes and splitting up into two teams: you and Chan versus Changbin and Minho. A quick game of rock, paper, scissors, and it was decided that you and Chan would go first. Chan wiggled his hand to push back the sleeve of his jacket and picked up a ball from the rack, testing its weight a few times before deciding on it.

You figured Changbin would be able to hold his own on his team, but, as always, Minho was more of an enigma to you. Even if he didn’t exactly seem like the athletic type, anything you thought you knew about the guy could be taken with a grain of salt these days. He was the complete opposite of Chan in that sense, so unreadable that even the most sensible, the most intuitive of assumptions could turn out to be dead wrong. You could feel Chan’s emotions like they were your own; Minho’s emotions were ones you weren’t sure you’d ever felt.

“What do you think?” You gave Chan a nudge when he approached you, admittedly endeared by the competitive gleam in his eyes. “Do we stand a chance?”

“We’re the better team, no doubt,” he grinned. “But Minho’s got this insane luck. So, we’ll see.”

You tried not to let your own smile dim. Of course he did. It was all in good fun—on the surface at least—but the mere possibility of losing to Minho was one you didn’t even want to consider. He already had enough snarky remarks lined up in his arsenal without you adding to the ammunition.

Chan took a deep breath, lifting the ball up to his face, swinging his arm back in a low arch, and releasing in one fluid motion. It hit the polished ground with an impressive speed, but your glimmer of hope was crushed just a split second later when it rolled directly into the gutter.

Countless sounds exploded all around you at once, so loud you worried you might have to issue an apology to anyone nearby who had the misfortune of being subjected to them. Changbin’s delighted cackles, Minho��s wild laughter, and Chan’s mortified shout of dismay. You covered your mouth to avoid letting your own amusement show, but it made no difference considering that Chan’s face was buried shamefully in his palms as he shuffled his way back over to you, ears already beginning to tinge red.

“Another off day!” Changbin threw his arm over Minho’s shoulder, as if their victory was already guaranteed. “Guess the experience of age is worthless, after all.”

“His old man bones just can’t keep up,” Minho clicked his tongue wistfully. 

Chan peeked out from between his fingers, any attempt at a glare rendered harmless by the wide, hopelessly embarrassed smile plastered on his face. “One year!” he cried defensively. “This is your future, Lee Minho!”

Minho’s smirk stayed intact, unfazed by the prospect of such a sad fate awaiting him. You gave Chan a sympathetic pat on the back as soon as he was within reach, trying to meet his eyes.

“Cheer up, Channie,” you encouraged. “Can’t have our ace giving up so soon, can we?”

He managed a shy chuckle, hand reaching up to fiddle with his piercing. Whether it was the other boys’ provocation that had him so flustered, or the fact that you’d been there to witness the pitiful display, you weren’t sure, but you were determined to boost his morale before he had the chance to beat himself up over it. Even for something as frivolous as a game of bowling among friends, you didn’t want to leave any room for Chan to doubt his abilities. You couldn’t help it; you’d do anything to see him shine.

As expected, Changbin was a force to be reckoned with as the game carried on, managing to score steady points for him and Minho’s team with a consistent flow of spares and strikes—that was, when he wasn’t stepping over the line and fouling himself. You were positive it wouldn’t have even been an issue if Minho didn’t point out his mistakes every single time, eventually spiraling into a full-blown argument between the two with Changbin loudly demanding to know whose side he really was on. 

Between their bickering and Chan’s bubbly laughter, emitting fondness with every squeak, it almost felt like old times. You almost felt light, just as you had during those spring days spent studying in their apartment. Bumping your shoulder against Changbin’s to keep him focused as you listened to Chan ramble on about thermodynamics with thinly-veiled adoration, taking more and more frequent breaks each passing week just as an excuse to snack and chat with each other, laughing quietly to yourself every time Minho would, inevitably, disturb the study session and antics would ensue between the three boys—more often than not, pulling you into an ambitious new cooking experiment or an hour long tangent to debate the strangest existential topics known to man. In retrospect, it had been the closest to carefree you’d felt in a long time. 

“Just throw the ball like a normal person!” Changbin shouted, snapping you back to the present.

Minho sniffed, not breaking eye contact with him once as he bent forward, spread his legs, and tossed the bowling ball carelessly through them. To your astonishment, it rolled down the center of the lane; steady, and by some miracle, steering clear of the gutters all the way to the end. The incredulous sound you let out was only rivaled by Chan’s stunned yelp, half-impressed, half-horrified as the ball managed to knock over a respectable five pins.

It became clear, in that moment, that Minho’s aforementioned luck was very much real, and it operated just as erratically as his own mind did. With each increasingly bizarre stance and tactic he implemented, he was scoring dozens of points before you knew it.

Chan never quite seemed to recover from his initial fumble, and, as much as you wanted to win, it was undoubtedly adorable every time he sank into a crouch, wailing miserably into his knees after yet another failed attempt at gaining some momentum. He was trying to be a good sport about it, even with Changbin and Minho’s taunts making the task near-impossible, but you could still feel the fire of frustration behind his every awkward glance at the monitor and apologetic smile sent your way. 

Fortunately, you were able to score enough points to keep the gap between your teams from growing too wide, even pulling a few strikes here and there. It was a bit silly how seriously you were beginning to take the game, but you were fueled on by the desire to lift Chan’s spirits—and, on a pettier note, a desire to see Minho lose. By the time you reached the final round, you and Chan were only behind by nine points.

“Hope I haven’t been too heavy for you,” he remarked, sheepish as he picked up the ball for his last turn.

“I don’t like hearing such defeated words from Bang Christopher Chan,” you frowned. “C’mon, show me some of that showcase confidence!”

He ducked his head with a puff of laughter, thumbs gliding over the sleek surface of the bowling ball. “That was different.”

“That was in front of a crowd of strangers,” you agreed. “This is just me.”

“Exactly,” he hummed softly. “It’s you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was getting at, only fully registering it when you spotted the rosiness of his cheeks flushing into something deeper, something much more noticeable. Acutely aware of Minho and Changbin’s eyes on you, you tried to keep a straight face, even if every cell in your body called for you to cup Chan’s face and press a kiss to his pouty lips right then and there. He was unreal. It was unreal how, even now, he could charm you so effortlessly—accidentally, even.

“Alright,” he sucked in through his teeth, seemingly reaching a verdict. “Do you think you could turn around? Just this time?”

You blinked, dumbfounded. When you said nothing, he lifted his gaze to give you a look that, despite the absurdity of his request, was resolute as ever. That was all the convincing it took for you to indulge him. 

Changbin watched curiously as you turned your back to the lanes, but you made no effort to explain yourself, figuring it would only be all the more embarrassing for Chan if his plan ultimately failed. It was too easy for you to picture his concentrated expression in your head as you waited patiently for him to make the shot—eyebrows furrowed with a striking intensity, but lips twitching in a way that betrayed his excitement underneath.

The heavy thump of the ball against the polished floor met your ears, and shortly after, the crashing of pins, followed by a chorus of disbelieving shouts. You spun around just in time to see Chan rushing back over to you, beaming so wide that his cheeks eclipsed his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious,” your voice turned up into a squeak as he pulled you into a triumphant, bone-crushing hug. “No way that worked.”

“Told you,” he sang into your ear. “It’s you.”

Any disappointment Changbin might have felt over losing was crushed by sheer delight when it became apparent to him what had just happened. “Oh, this is too much,” he howled with laughter, leaning against Minho—who, you were surprised to find, had a faintly amused smile on his face, as well. You looked away as quickly as you caught it, driven by that feeling of alienation, an understanding that it wasn’t a sight for you.

In honor of your victory against all odds, Chan decided to head over to the concessions stand he’d been eyeing since you’d first arrived at the bowling alley. Changbin jumped at the chance to tag along, setting panic off in your mind the instant you realized what that meant for you. You stood a bit too quickly, offering to join and help them carry back the snacks, only to be waved off with a reassuring smile from Chan.

Despite your discomfort, you relented, deciding it’d be best not to rouse any suspicions. You slumped back down in your chair as the two walked away, leaving you and Minho sitting directly across from each other in silence.

It wasn’t long before you began to run out of points of interest to look at other than him. Your eyes shifted awkwardly from your shoes to the monitor, from the monitor to the ball rack, from the ball rack to the distant lanes, and right back to your shoes. The cycle repeated for a good few minutes, and just as you reached into your pocket to fish out your phone in a last resort to quell the awkwardness, Minho decided to speak up. Oddly chatty today, you noted. 

“Didn’t see you at Chan’s birthday party.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“Just thought it was interesting,” he pointed out. “Since you care about him so much, and all.”

There was a laughable irony there, that the person who was the sole reason why you hadn’t shown up to celebrate Chan, was now questioning why you hadn’t—an irony that, you were willing to bet, he was well aware of.

“I didn’t think I was exactly welcome,” you said plainly. 

“Showing up uninvited is nothing new to you, is it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Look, Minho, I’m really not in the mood,” you hissed. “What exactly are you trying to gain from all this?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering about you, too,” he bounced off you with ease. “I’m kinda curious—did it make you feel better about yourself when you visited him? Felt like you proved something with that soup?”

“Proved something?” You didn’t bother to watch your volume this time, thoroughly set-off in a matter of seconds. “If you think I have anything to prove to you, you’re fucking delusional.”

Even as you spat the words with an uncharacteristic lack of restraint—and decorum—a wisp of doubt brushed past your mind, the same way it had the day you’d confronted him after checking on Chan. Why did he sound so sure of himself? Why did you even allow yourself to entertain his accusations?

What did he know that you didn’t?

He leaned back in his chair, whatever harsh retort that was on the tip of his tongue immediately being cut short when he spotted Changbin hobbling back over with an armful of snacks.

“Someone go help Chan out!” he called. “I don’t think he can carry everything himself.”

Minho rose from his spot before you had the chance to, eyes glinting as he shot you one last look. “You should get that temper of yours checked out,” he suggested under his breath. “Chan might like it, but others won’t.”

At that, he slunk off, leaving you with nothing to do but fume in frustration as Changbin made his way over to you. He dropped his stash on the table with a self-satisfied whistle, picking up a bag of chips and passing it to you.

“Here,” he offered. “Chan got these for you.”

You caught a glimpse of the brand—your favorite. It brought a smile to your face just in time, wiping away your scowl before Changbin could get a proper look at you, but even the warmth glowing in your chest wasn’t enough to erase the residual tension left behind by Minho. Changbin squinted as he settled down next to you, popping open a bag of his own.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you replied quickly. “Thanks for the snack.”

He crunched down on his shrimp chip with a suspicious hum, not convinced by your dull tone in the slightest.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course,” you smiled, only half-feigned. “Chan and I just won, didn’t we?”

Changbin chewed thoughtfully a few times, breaking his inquisitive stare to shoot a glance over his shoulder, exactly in the direction Minho had disappeared to. When he turned back to you, his expression was more solemn; knowing.

“Is it Minho?”

You couldn’t find the will in you to hide it, picking uncomfortably at the plastic bag in your hands. “I guess I didn’t expect him to be here.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “Did you ever end up talking to him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “He just doesn’t like me, simple as that.”

You tried to keep your voice casual, unaffected, but Changbin’s reaction to the news made it difficult to maintain. The fact that he seemed so genuinely puzzled almost rubbed salt in the wound, like he’d had the utmost faith that a simple conversation was all it would’ve taken for the two of you to sort things out. Amidst all the complicated feelings you had on the issue, a new one joined the fray: guilt. You hadn’t been able to make it work. If anything, your efforts had sent the situation spiraling into something much worse. All you could do now was ensure that a problem as ridiculous as this wouldn’t reach anyone else—Chan, most of all. 

“I don’t get it,” Changbin muttered, brows scrunching together. “I never got the feeling that he doesn’t like you.”

“You definitely would if you saw the way he talks to me.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you nearly cringed over the self-pity laced in them. You didn’t want to be a victim in this situation, especially not if it meant pressuring Changbin to pick a side between you and Minho like you were children fighting on a playground.

“I can have a chat with him, if you want. See what’s really going on.”

“No, no,” you dismissed it like a reflex. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? It’ll be easier for me to get through to him.”

“No, Bin. Seriously,” you paused, not having intended it to come out so sharp. “Sorry. I mean, thank you, but it’s alright. I’d rather handle it myself, y’know?”

It had been made abundantly clear to you that you were, in fact, doing a terrible job at handling it yourself, but Changbin didn’t need to know that. The last thing you wanted was to grant Minho the satisfaction of Changbin revealing just how much his behavior was affecting you—or, even worse, the very real possibility of Chan catching wind of it. You could already picture Minho’s scornful stare, voice dripping with mockery as he ridiculed you for needing to call on Changbin to protect you, for not being able to fight the battles that, in his head, you’d instigated with your mere existence. The thought alone made you shudder in your spot, visibly enough for Changbin to notice.

A strange look crossed his face, one you’d only ever really seen on a few rare occasions before. It was grounded, mature; a side to him that, oftentimes, you tended to forget existed because he traded it out for something less intense. Without him even needing to say a word, you knew that his attentive instincts had kicked in, and once they had, they would be difficult to shake. 

“You just seem upset,” he said at last.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Sometimes people just don’t get along. It’s not worth stressing about, so, please don’t say anything to Minho. Or Chan.”

He eyed you for a few seconds longer, and briefly, you worried that he may actually let his stubbornness get the best of him. It was comical, in a sense, how you’d grown so accustomed to disregarding your own emotions in all facets of life, that being faced with a shred of compassion felt more like a hindrance than anything else. Fortunately, the concern was short-lived. With a grunt of agreement, Changbin popped another chip into his mouth. 

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

The relief you felt upon hearing those words increased tenfold as you spotted Chan returning with Minho from the concessions stand, loaded with snacks and drinks that even his long arms could hardly contain. He was smiling, no doubt still giddy over your unexpected win and the victory meal that was lined up for him. That was all it took to make you absolutely certain of your decision.

“I’m sure. Thanks, Bin.”

You wanted to be the reason for Chan’s smile. If it meant securing his happiness, then you could deal with it, no questions asked. 

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The shrill ping of your laptop—a sound you’d come to despise in recent weeks—rang out to notify you of a new email in your inbox, breaking your focus so that you lost your place in the article you’d been reading.

Huffing to yourself, you clicked off the page begrudgingly and switched to your email tab, reluctant to see what academic horrors were lying in wait for you. As expected, it was a followup message from your lab instructor. With the fall semester drawing to a close in just under a month, the pressure was on for you to complete your research paper in time to have your findings included as part of the final study. Having your name on a published academic paper was an essential goal you had set for yourself as an undergraduate; something to give you an extra edge in the fiercely competitive field of astrophysics. The only problem was, (save for the grueling amounts of time and effort it took to reach that point) you had to get your draft approved before it was too late, a task that was beginning to seem impossible with every new response you received from your instructor.

Today was no different, a fresh wave of stress washing over you as you read the contents of her email. Another extensive list of revisions, a reminder of your approaching deadline, and, most troubling of all, another order to have your progress peer reviewed by at least one other student as part of the physics department protocol. Alarm spiked within you. You didn’t have a lot of time.

Before you’d even finished reading the email, you reached blindly for your phone, fumbling with the passcode in your haste to unlock it and open up your messaging app. 

you (9:23 p.m.) hey! sorry to nag about this again but have u had the chance to look over my paper?

You tried to get a grip on your impatience, telling yourself that it was just the incessant desire to be done with the process already that had you so on edge. But all it took was a few minutes of waiting for you to start tapping your fingers anxiously against your desk, debating whether or not you should try calling instead before you succumbed to the unreasonable levels of foreboding stacking up inside you.

Then, at last, a reply. Any reassurance it might have brought you instantly dwindled as soon as you read it.

iseul 🪷 (9:34 p.m.) omg… omfg no i totally forgot

You pressed your lips together. In a way, you couldn’t exactly say you were surprised. Not in the slightest, actually.

you (9:34 p.m.) okay no worries are u still able to? the deadline’s pretty soon

iseul 🪷 (9:39 p.m.) i’m not sure tbh i’m kinda busy rn so i’ll lyk later on a date ;P

Your heart sank, panic shooting through the roof. It’d been well over a week since you’d first asked her to look over your paper, and you’d made a conscious effort not to press the subject too much to avoid coming off as pushy. Now, you wished desperately that you’d been firmer from the start. Surely, then, she would’ve realized how important it was to you. Surely, then, she would’ve prioritized it.

You took a deep breath, mind frantic and scrambling for a solution. It found one almost immediately, like second nature, but you pushed the thought away as soon as it came. You didn’t want to bother him. Absolutely not. 

As you continued to wager the possibilities, however, it became more and more evident to you that there may not be any other option on such short notice—or, maybe, you just felt a selfish need to reach out to him in that moment, knowing you would be met with nothing but that certain warmth. It was a foreign desire, completely unlike you, and you weren’t sure you liked how often it wormed its way into your brain these days.

You’d consulted a handful of other friends before Iseul, all of which shared your major; a double-edged sword in this case. While it made them reliable candidates for peer review, the issue lied in the fact that they were all preoccupied with their own capstone research. Even without the added weight of having to complete an extensive documentation by a strict deadline like you had, the amount of work their labs required was more than enough to keep them busy. 

Changbin was no exception. You’d already been hesitant to ask him from the start—which was, frankly, a bit ridiculous considering he’d demonstrated time and time again how dependable he could be if the situation called for it—so when he’d apologetically told you that he wouldn’t be able to get to it before at least another week, you’d dropped the subject without a second thought. It would be too far late by then, and bringing it up a second time would only put an unnecessary pressure on him. Even if you got a response in a timely manner (a pipe dream in itself), his answer would be the same, and your paper would more than likely end up falling into Chan’s hands, anyway. 

You tapped your thumbs together indecisively, trying to approach it with a clear mind. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to allow yourself to rely on him just a little bit, to lean into that warmth you’d been so determined to ration for reasons you couldn’t fully grasp.

Maybe, it wouldn’t be so unforgivable to take your own advice, just this once. 

Steeling yourself, you hit Chan’s contact before you could talk yourself out of it. All it took was a matter of three rings, and you heard the other line pick up. That was another detail you’d noticed lately, another subtle shift in attachment that made your chest tighten when you lingered on it for too long. He was much more responsive ever since that day in October, texting back uncharacteristically fast and calling uncharacteristically more often compared to the usual, comfortable periods of absence between the two of you. It was as if he was on standby for you at all times, ready to jump at the opportunity to meet your every beck and call in case there was something—anything—he could do for you.

“Hey, you.”

In spite of everything, his melodic lilt soothed your nerves. It always did. 

“Hi Channie,” you couldn’t mask the stiffness in your voice. “Are you busy?”

“I’ve got time,” he chirped. He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant; he had time for you. “But first, guess what I’ve been working on.”

Fondness tugged at the corners of your mouth. “What?”

“Not telling,” you could practically hear the dimples carving their way into his cheeks. “You gotta guess.”

“Hm. Could it be what I think it is?” 

“Dunno,” he giggled. “You’re the one who can see right through me, yeah?”

You let the pull at your lips form fully into a smile. “In that case, you’d better not break your promise.”

It wasn’t difficult to envision the look on his face, the pure giddiness it etched into his features to know that you’d caught on with ease. Speaking in riddles because he could; a language only the two of you could understand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed. “So, what’s up?”

You faltered, having nearly forgotten your reason for calling him in the first place. The cheerful rhythm of his voice and the charming tune of his laughter had almost been enough to sway you, to change your mind and shield him from the academic nightmares that he was no stranger to. But anxiety spiked within you all over again as you were reminded of your looming deadline, providing all the push you needed to latch on to him with an embarrassing speed.

“Actually, I…” you began slowly. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“Anything,” he said it without an ounce of hesitation, ready to comply before he even heard your request. It made your heart swell—with affection, gratitude, and something else you couldn’t quite place. 

“So, Iseul was supposed to review my research paper draft before I submitted it for the final publication but…but I don’t think she can anymore,” you hoped to sound nonchalant, not wanting a single drop of your unease to spill on his conscience. “I know it’s a lot to ask on short notice, so it’s absolutely fine if you can’t, but—”

“Of course, I can.”

“Really?” you swallowed. “Thank you, I…”

A critical thought crossed your mind, bringing the sense of calm that Chan always enveloped you with to an immediate halt. You felt stupid for not considering it sooner, for allowing yourself to be so short-sighted, even for just a moment.

“Your project,” you said suddenly. “Your mentor gave you an extension, right? Did you finish it? Because you need to work on that instead if—”

“Nah,” he assured you. “It’s all done, don’t worry.”

You paused. It was just your inner saboteur making excuses, probably—grasping for any reason at all to pull back before you committed to burdening him with your troubles—but why was it that every single time he told you not to worry, it only worried you more?

Still, you forced your reservations to the side. Maybe he sounded so terse because it was still a sensitive topic for him, something he couldn’t think back to without the guilt that surrounded that night plaguing his mind all over again. It made you soften with sympathy, and a faint hope that, just maybe, your gentle words as you’d bathed him had pierced through the fog of doubt in his mind—enough to compel him to be honest with you about this.

“O-okay. Then, yeah, I’d really appreciate your help,” you exhaled. “Thank you, Channie.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured. “The least I could do, really.”

You nearly laughed out loud. The least he could do. As if he owed you something, as if he didn’t do more for you than you could ever express simply by being himself.

He could read you with such ease—could catch on to your every thought and sentiment, however fleeting, like it was the most natural thing in the world—but the view of him from your eyes? The sight of himself from a lens of pure, unadulterated adoration? That was one thing he’d never be able to truly comprehend.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“I didn’t lose it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Lose sounds so…so harsh,” Changbin protested. “I just happened to put it somewhere and can’t remember where that somewhere is.”

“That’s a relief,” you snorted. “You had me scared for a second.”

“It was an accident, seriously!” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You gave him a good-natured shove as the two of you shuffled down the hall side by side, a sight that had become commonplace for anyone who frequented the physics building. “But if I were you, I’d get to searching.”

“C’mon, it could be anywhere!” he complained. 

“I’m saying this for your own good, Seo Changbin. Do you really wanna suffer through finals without your lucky charm?”

Changbin’s face dropped, a horrified look of realization parting his lips and widening his eyes.

“I’ll find it,” he mumbled, so serious that you couldn’t hold back a snicker. “For you, of course. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Uh-huh,” you said plainly. “Once you do, custody of Cinnamoroll is going right back to me.”

You weren’t upset about it, not really. It was honestly a miracle that he’d been able to keep track of something as trivial as a pencil for so long in the first place. Though, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t an undeniable feeling of wistfulness there, to think that the prized possession that had initially brought you and Changbin together was now missing. You weren’t exactly the superstitious type—well, maybe that had changed just the slightest bit as of late—but it almost felt like a bad omen of sorts.

“That’s too cruel,” Changbin whined. “I’ll never let him out of my sight again, I swear.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you in anticipation of a response; but you were lost in thought. A sea of inhibitions that, funnily enough, had inched further and further up the shore in recent months, months where you’d been objectively happier than even your highest points over the past few years. 

You were certain your change in demeanor wouldn’t go unnoticed by Changbin—he’d tapped far more into his observant side as of late, ever since he’d come to learn that you and Minho weren’t nearly as in harmony as he’d led himself to believe. Between his added scrutiny, Minho’s pointed, all-knowing glares, and Chan’s ability to tune in to even the finest shift in your emotions, you didn’t think you’d ever felt more uncomfortably seen in your life. You felt like you were being watched from all angles; nowhere to hide, no way to maneuver yourself so that your loose seams weren’t visible.

“Wanna go bowling tonight?” Changbin suggested, breaking your stream of consciousness before you were completely pulled out to sea. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re so into it these days because it’s the only sport you can beat Chan at?”

“I can beat him at billiards, too!” he retorted. “Besides, it’ll just be you and me. Pretty sure Chan’s busy with makeup work.”

You froze.

“What?”

It took Changbin a second to realize that you weren’t walking beside him anymore. He stopped in his tracks, turning to give you a strange look.

“Y’know, that big project with his mentor. It’s due tonight, I think.”

Your stomach dropped. All at once, dread consumed you, at such an alarming rate that it felt akin to plunging into ice cold water on a hot, sunny day. You didn’t want to believe it; you wanted to tell yourself that Changbin had to be mistaken, that Chan had finished his work days ago like he’d told you, and that he certainly hadn’t taken on the burden of reviewing over twenty pages of scientific jargon for you when he still had a very crucial, very future-defining project of his own to complete.

Even as you tried to convince yourself, even if you wanted to cling to the faith you’d put in him more than anything, even though you knew Changbin was notoriously bad with dates, deep down, you already had your answer.

Changbin’s expression grew heavy with concern. “What’s with that face?”

You cleared your throat, praying that your words would come out steady. “Nothing,” you replied quickly. “I just thought he’d already finished.”

He opened his mouth to say something—most definitely to question you further on why you looked like you’d just seen a ghost—so, you spoke up again before he had the chance.

“Anyway, yeah, let’s go bowling tonight. See who the real ace is.”

The playful challenge, strained as it was, seemed to ease Changbin’s misgivings a bit. He flashed you a smirk, taking the bait immediately.

“Haitai Bbasae shrimp chips are my favorite, by the way.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “So you know what to buy me when I win.”

You rolled your eyes. “Forgot about your pencil debt so soon?”

Your joking did nothing to seal the pit of apprehension that had opened up inside your gut. In fact, it deepened with each step you took, as if your body was physically rejecting the idea of you walking anywhere other than directly towards Phase 8 of the campus apartments; directly towards Chan.

You all but forced the muscles in your face to relax, solely to avoid rousing Changbin’s suspicions again. Already, you were regretting your decision to meet up with him later that night. Spending even an hour or two pretending like the thought of Chan—cooped up in his room, undoubtedly running on minimal sleep and an empty stomach, bloodshot eyes locked on his laptop screen as he struggled to meet the most important deadline of his academic career, all because of you—wasn’t eating away at your insides wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park, even for you. 

You told yourself it was just an overreaction. You were jumping to conclusions. Maybe taking your mind off of it tonight was exactly what you needed; enough time for Chan to finish his work, and enough time for the fog that always seemed to cloud your rationality when it came to him to clear up.

You’d mull it over properly, and then you’d talk to Chan. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

As it turned out, subjecting yourself to a constant back and forth argument for two days straight—a trial where you were playing the role of judge, jury, defendant, and prosecutor all at once—served no real purpose other than to drive you to the brink of madness.

The more you’d tried to reason with yourself, the more convinced you’d become that the situation was, in actuality, far more dire than you’d initially believed. It appeared so simple on the surface, a harmless white lie that was said only with the intention of easing your worries, to displace some of the weight from your shoulders to his. You loathed the fact that you’d managed to spin such a kind, loving gesture, such an authentically Chan gesture, into something so unpleasant. But knowing what you knew, knowing Chan, it went deeper than that. You never would’ve allowed yourself to shift that weight over to him if you’d known he hadn’t been relieved of his own first. 

It was for that reason that when Chan had called you earlier in the day to see if you were free to meet up—a timing that only spurred on your paranoid thoughts, given that he was no doubt reaching out to you because he’d finally submitted his work—you’d all but jumped at the opportunity. You needed to see him, his crinkled eye smile, his face well-rested and bright. You needed to be certain that you hadn’t ruined everything for him.

Each step up the stairwell to unit 8-325 added another layer to the anxiety piling inside of you. It was a sensation you’d experienced once before; that strangely chilly day in April, trudging your way up alongside Changbin, completely oblivious to what the universe had in store for you. Completely oblivious to the warmth you would be met with, the part of yourself that you hadn’t known you were missing until you found him.

You gave the front door a few knocks, a bit harder than usual, just in case Chan had his headphones in. Before the gusts of wind blowing through the hallway could even begin to chill you through your clothes, the door swung open. Despite everything, your heart sang at the sight of him. Eyes sleepy, and, as predicted, accompanied by those dark bags he carried around far too often for your liking, curls ruffled, hoodie wrinkled, smile lazy—just prominent enough for one of his dimples to peek out. 

You wondered if he’d been napping. The idea both calmed and unsettled you; the comfort of knowing he’d gotten some rest, the fear that he’d needed to catch up on sleep because he’d been pulling all-nighters to complete his work. Because of you.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, Chan.”

You hadn’t even noticed the issue with your greeting until he tilted his head curiously.

“Scary,” he giggled. “Am I in trouble?”

You padded through the doorframe and slipped off your shoes, keeping quiet long enough for his grin to waver. It nearly made you grimace. Two words in, and you already couldn’t tolerate the idea of speaking to him with anything but the utmost care. 

“Sorry.” You chided yourself for being so pointlessly intense about it. You didn’t even know the full story yet; there was no need to stir unease in him like that. “How are you, Channie?”

“All good, now. I missed you,” he added.

You knew he must be wondering why you hadn’t hugged him yet. So, you leaned into his arms the very instant they outstretched. You took in his scent, his body heat, the peaceful beat of his heart. You wished the tranquility that he washed over you would last. You wished you could fall fully into him and just pretend like nothing was wrong. But then, where would you go from there? How many more times would he do something like this? How many more corners of himself would he cut until, before you knew it, you were doing the exact same thing to him as so many others had done before? The question itself was enough to scare you, let alone what the answer may be.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured. Mustering all your willpower, you pulled your head from his chest, taking a few steps deeper into the apartment with Chan following suit. 

You braced yourself, and then you tested the waters.

“So, did you finish your project?”

A heavy pause, then an awkward laugh.

“Oh, yeah. A few days ago, remember?”

You said nothing. Instead, you turned to look at him properly, not bothering to mask the doubt written all over your face. His gaze fell, and you knew, immediately, that you’d been correct.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “It’s done now, no worries.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your desire to be gentle with him was already beginning to battle it out with your urgency to get to the bottom of this, to decode what had been going on in his head when he’d made such a potentially disastrous choice for your sake. Chan reached up for his earring, eyes still averted as he rolled the silver hoop sheepishly between his fingers.

“Are you mad?”

Mad. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. The idea that you could feel anything but boundless affection for him was so incomprehensible to you. No, you weren’t mad. You were frustrated. Because you knew he saw no problem with what he had done, because the damage had been to him and no one else.

“Of course not. I…I’m really grateful you were there for me,” you began, and the hopeful way he raised his head almost made you want to leave it at that. “But I’m just a little concerned that you kept this from me, Channie. I wanted to be sure that you had nothing else on your plate before asking such a huge favor of you.”

He smiled, clearly oblivious to how much you meant it. “It’s no problem, really. I wanted to help.”

Your stomach churned. Of course he wanted to help, you knew that more than anything. Two years ago, he’d only wanted to help, too. That was the detail that had unnerved you most in the 48 hours you’d spent dissecting it all—the eerie similarities between this situation and the one Chan had poured his heart out to you about just a few weeks ago. Once you’d noticed how they paralleled each other, it was impossible to ignore, to the point where that became the driving force for your need to set things right, to put your foot down before history repeated itself.

“Don’t you remember what we talked about the other day?” you prompted, as delicately as your growing tension would allow. “What if you hadn’t finished your work in time because you were too busy helping me? Graduation is less than a month away—why would you ever risk that?”

Chan shifted his weight from side to side. You could tell he was starting to grow uncomfortable.

“This is different.”

“How?” you pressed. “How is it any different? You nearly let me jeopardize your future all over again.”

“I don’t understand,” he chuckled softly. “I finished in the end, didn’t I? There’s really no need to worry about me.”

You took a deep breath. You weren’t getting through to him.

“But what if you hadn’t? What if you failed because of this?” You didn’t miss the way he shrank back when you spoke the word, only feeding into your own distress. “Not just that, it can’t have been easy to finish all that work at once. I don’t want you taking on more than you can handle again, especially not for my sake.”

“It’s okay,” he said lightly, almost dismissive. “It was my decision, y’know? If it’s you, then it’s okay.”

Normally, the words would’ve melted your heart. They would’ve made you coo and fawn and swoon over him and his insurmountable selflessness. Now, they only frightened you. If he was willing to put something as important as this on the line without a second thought, you didn’t even want to think about what else he might try to sacrifice for you.

“Chan…” you hesitated. “I need to know that you’re not gonna do something like this again. I need you to promise me that you’ll put yourself first in this relationship, at least when it matters most.”

His expression darkened, just the slightest bit. It was a look you’d never once seen cross his face, one that felt so unnatural that you didn’t know what to make of it. But the feeling it evoked was one you understood all too well. The feeling of having a core part of himself confronted; challenged.

“I—” Chan sucked in through his teeth. “I don’t think I can promise you that.”

Your heart sank. The dread that had been slowly creeping its way up on you since you’d first arrived, now consumed you in full. He wasn’t going to stop. He was never going to stop. Not for you, or anyone else. Certainly not for himself.

“Please,” you tried again. “Please, tell me you’re not gonna put me in this position.”

You could tell, just from the bewildered look he was giving you, that he was having trouble piecing it together in his head, that he was struggling to decipher why you would ever even ask such a thing of him. Why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to take advantage of him, to use him for all he was worth, like so many others did. 

“You’ve got to stop treating yourself like this,” you continued, not liking the way you were losing control of your voice. “If you keep giving and giving there’s not going to be anything left of you to give.” 

Chan remained silent, and for a split second, you felt a glimmer of hope that he was starting to grasp the message you were trying to send. But it was nothing more than a candle in the wind, blown out before it even had the chance to illuminate anything.

“And what about you?” 

You tensed. “What?”

“Could you make that promise to me?” he asked quietly. “Would you stop hiding things from me if I asked you to?”

Just like that, the mirror was turned on you.

“That’s…you’re changing the subject. This isn’t about me.”

“Really? I think it is.”

You held your ground, determined not to let him steer the conversation away from himself. “I know my limits, Chan. I wouldn’t hide anything serious from you.”

“Then why have you still not told me about what happened when you went home?”

It was unusually direct coming from him, just short of accusatory. You were reminded, once again, that even the parts of yourself that you thought you might be able to slip past his attentive eyes, he was well aware of—more than he ever let show. Even when he caught on to every minute detail, even when it filled his head with concern for you, he remained considerate as ever; waiting patiently until you were ready to open up yourself. At least, until now. 

“And…why haven’t you told me about what’s going on with Minho?”

Something twisted deep within you. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. You’d done a horrible job in hiding it—and even if you hadn’t, he would’ve sensed something was off, anyway. He always did.

When he gauged your reaction, Chan’s face dropped into something heartbreaking, eyes flashing with a resigned sort of fear. 

“Do you—”

“No.” You couldn’t hide your revulsion towards what you were sure he was going to ask, denying it so fiercely that it at least seemed to convince him right away. “That’s not it at all.”

“Okay,” he exhaled. “Then, what’s going on? You can tell me everything. I’m here to listen.”

Countless emotions fought for control over you all at once. Dismay. Exasperation. Vulnerability. Love. Even now, he was finding a way to focus on you, to make sure you were okay amidst your attempts to get him on speaking terms with his self-preservation. It was a testament to everything you adored about him, and everything about him that made you feel utterly helpless. You needed an escape route, a window to break out of before that pure, sincere gaze of his cast its spell on you and made you do something that you were sure to regret. Because you always regretted it, every single time. You couldn’t tell him. Not about Minho, not about home, not about her, not about him. Not because he wouldn’t care, but because he would. He would care so much that all your pain would become his.  

It was your turn to break eye contact, brushing your thumb over your nose. “It’s not something you need to hear, right now.”

“Then, when? How can I be there for you if you won’t let me?” Desperation began to seep into every word. “You promised, didn’t you?”

“I know,” you swallowed. “But that’s not the point of all this. You don’t owe me anything for what happened in October, okay? You don’t have to feel guilty just because you let yourself lean on me a bit.”

You meant the affirmations—you knew you did. So why did they suddenly sound so unconvincing? Like something you’d never believe if spoken to you. Chan pressed his lips together, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he knew exactly what you were doing.

“If this keeps up, you’re going to hate me,” you said plainly. “You’re going to resent me for all the times you helped me when you should’ve helped yourself.”

His fingers curled around the sleeve of his hoodie, picking at its loose threads in a way that betrayed how high his tensions were running beneath the silence. 

“Why are you so sure that’s gonna happen?”

“Because…because I know you.”

“Because you do the same thing?” he asked sharply.

He wasn’t going to let you get away with it today. He was tugging at each of your seams, peeling back the adhesives to reveal what you’d let fester underneath. You were trapped. Cornered by someone who you’d come to trust more than anyone else in the world—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

“Maybe I do,” you relented. There was no use in hiding it, not when he sounded more sure of himself than you’d ever heard him sound before. “That’s why I know it won’t end well. I need you to stop this, for your own good.”

“Don’t,” Chan interjected. “Please, don’t talk about what’s good for me. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh my God, Chan,” you let out a hollow laugh. “Am I supposed to agree with that?”

Of course nothing had changed. How naive, how fucking foolish of you to believe that one conversation could ever be enough to undo the ideas that had been hammered into his being by everyone around him his entire life; so extensively, so persistently that, as time went on, he began to do the hammering himself. You were positive now, that everything he’d revealed to you that night in October, as gut-wrenching as it’d been on its own, wasn’t even the half of what he’d been through. It was just a single star in a constellation of hurt.

Minho’s words echoed in your head. He was right. You weren’t special. You would take advantage of Chan just like everyone else, whether you wanted to or not. Your ex’s words echoed in your head. He had been right. You were a liar. You couldn’t even apply your own words to yourself—how could you ever, ever expect them to get through to Chan?

“These…types of relationships don’t always work out, right?” 

You didn’t want to use the term he’d used before, it felt unnecessarily cruel in that moment. Ever since he’d first brought the subject of twin flames up, you’d spent any free time you’d managed to get your hands on reading about them. That kind of connection could be transformational, sure, but the further you delved into the phenomenon, the more you came to learn that it could be just as harmful under the wrong circumstances—destructive. Two individuals who shared such core similarities were bound to experience problems far deeper-rooted and far more intense than anyone else, after all. Most people didn’t take kindly to being faced with their own traits completely unfiltered—the good, the bad, the ugly. A mirror that reflected them in their truest form. 

“Maybe we’re not ready to see these parts of ourselves. Maybe we just bring out the worst in each other.”

Each word made your tongue feel drier and drier. You didn’t dare to look at Chan as you spoke them, certain you would break the very instant your eyes locked with his.

“Maybe,” you paused. Your heart was pounding, so loud that you felt it in your ears, making it impossible to think straight. There was still a chance to take it back, to change your mind before destabilizing the foundation of everything the two of you had so carefully built until now.

Ever since you’d met Chan, you’d thought that you’d been growing, learning, healing. You’d thought you were reaching a point where you wouldn’t need to hold yourself together anymore, because you would simply be…together. No adhesives. No loose seams. Just whole. 

But here, you had him. The kind of person you’d only ever encountered once before in this lifetime, the kind of person you used to dream of knowing again. Someone who noticed every little thing you did for him and returned it tenfold, someone who loved you and meant it, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t make it work in your mind. You couldn’t shake the dread, the belief that it was all temporary, conditional, transactional. Like if you made one small misstep, it would all be lost.

In retrospect, you really hadn’t learned a thing.

“Maybe we should end this. Before we start to hurt each other.”

Chan’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“I d-don't want to hurt you. And if this continues, I'm going to.”

His hand lowered from his ear, crossing over his chest to cup his neck instead. Covering his heart, shielding himself.

“More than this?” his voice cracked. “I think this hurts more than anything else you could ever do to me.”

There was no way to conceal the effect it had on you. A physical, throbbing ache in your chest.

“Chan,” you begged inwardly for him to understand—for him to just know it, the same way he knew everything else about you like the back of his hand. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you ruin yourself for me.”

It made sense, now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were saying what you needed to hear. The realization made it all feel infinitely more despicable. Could you even say you were doing this out of care for him? Or were you just a coward afraid to confront this part of yourself?

That was what you always did, after all; you ran. You ran from your ex, your home, your family, your friends. The moment you were faced with any kind of obstacle, you left. And this was no different. You were no different than anyone else who had abandoned Chan in the past. If anything, you were worse. A hypocrite who had the audacity to shame the people who had harmed him, then turned around to do it yourself.

“If you’re gonna leave, just do it, please.”

You wished he sounded at least a little angry about it. You wished he wasn’t so ready to accept it. You almost wished he would snap and lash out and yell, voicing every vicious thought you were thinking about yourself in that moment. A liar, a manipulator, a hypocrite. Cruel, awful, selfish.

You wished he would be a little more selfish.

But there was no contempt in his eyes, no vitriol. Not even the beginnings of tears. It felt worse—far worse. He was saving them. He wasn’t going to cry until you left.

The only emotion you could read on his face was exhaustion. By your own volition, you were no longer the reason for his smile; you’d become the reason for his weariness.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I'll let you be, now.”

You waited. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no one to swoop in and put a stop to this; you were the one who’d started it. Still, you waited. For yourself to change your mind, for Chan to change his mind, for something about all this to change.

You took one last look at the apartment around you. The stray socks, the scattered water bottles, the half-done dishes. You wondered if it was the last time you would ever see it. You hadn’t been prepared to leave it all behind. You hadn’t been prepared for any of this. 

You took one last look at him—the boy you loved. His gaze was still downcast, a detail you were, pathetically enough, grateful for. You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep it together if he met your eyes; if he looked at you with anything other than that unfettered adoration you’d come to rely on, despite every one of your instincts commanding you not to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, to leave him with something to hold on to, but you knew it would do nothing but twist the knife. There was no way to make him understand that because you loved him so much, you had to end this. You weren’t going to let him make you his accomplice in his self-destruction, and you weren’t going to subject him to witnessing your own, either.

You turned to leave. Every step you took towards the door felt like your heart was being ripped further out of your chest. 

Your heart was there, across the room, watching you go.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

bin 😑 (monday, 1:09 p.m.) what’s this what’s this??? looks like somebody’s late for class~

bin 😑 (monday, 1:32 p.m.) ur srsly gonna leave me all alone on review day???

bin 😑 (tuesday, 4:42 p.m.) guess what i found ><

bin 😑 (today, 12:17 a.m.) i’m really being ignored… huuu ㅜ

Two days had passed. You were only aware of that fact thanks to the timestamps of Changbin’s texts. You’d skipped your classes on Monday, the first time you’d missed class the entire year—ever since you’d started university, really. 

It was a stupid decision, but, well, you were no stranger to those. You probably would have done well for yourself to attend your lectures. After all, the distractions that came with drowning yourself in academics had proved to be effective even when you were at your most miserable. That was exactly why you hadn’t gone. You didn’t deserve to distract yourself.

Eventually, though, it’d become too much to bear. Sitting alone in your apartment, with nothing to do but torture yourself with thoughts of him, of what you’d done, of the way everything had fallen apart before your very eyes—by your very hands—was a punishment that you decided you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy. Which, funnily enough, was probably yourself.

You didn’t deserve to miss him. You didn’t deserve to worry about him. You didn’t even deserve to wonder how he might be doing. Still, you did, anyway. Selfishly.

You squinted at your laptop screen, a harsh, white light illuminating your face. Unnatural, nothing like the soothing glow of the moon outside. It was sure to be in its Waning Gibbous phase by now, the same way it had been the night you’d first fallen for him. But it had been cloudy for two days straight. No sun shining down on you to balance out the chilly autumn air. No stars decorating the sky. No moon to watch over you at night.

It took you a few seconds to process the sound of your cellphone buzzing against your desk. Your eyes flickered over to it, lacking the energy to even turn your head fully. It was Iseul. Given how late it was, she was undoubtedly calling about some problem or another. So, for the first time, you let it go to voicemail. 

But nothing was ever that easy. You didn’t even have the chance to find where you’d left off in your notes before she was calling again, not even bothering to leave a message or to give you time to call back first.

It was probably best not to answer. You were in no state to answer.

You steeled yourself, and you took the call.

Before you could even say hello, her distressed voice ran through the speaker. 

“Can you come over?”

For once, you wished you’d been wrong about why she was contacting you. You wished that this friendship, which was usually a comfortable constant for you, a way for both of your needs to be met, could be put on hold. You wished she saw any value in you other than what you could do for her.

“Right now?” you tried to keep calm, telling yourself that it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. How could she? You’d never let her. “I…I’m kinda busy, sorry.”

“This is important,” she sounded serious, but you knew it was more than likely that this was just another case of a very solvable issue being blown wildly out of proportion in her eyes. “I really, really need your help.”

You said nothing, not even finding it in you to string together an acceptable excuse. 

“Are you with Chan, or something?”

A physical pang in your chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” you lied. 

“Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the call. Normally, you’d fill it, say something to keep her from feeling awkward. 

“It's really late, Iseul. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“No.” You were taken aback by how abruptly she responded. “I need your help now, I'm so serious. Can you please just come for a bit? I'm sure Chan wouldn’t care.”

Another blow from your oblivious assailant, straight to the gut. You felt short of breath.

“Maybe I can help over the phone?” you offered weakly. “What’s going on?”

“No, no, no, you have to be here! I just lost my whole fucking essay file and it’s due at 6:00 a.m. and you know I don’t know shit about computers!” her tone grew frantic the more she rambled on. “I have no idea how to get it back, I'm seriously about to cry.”

An essay. The very same thing that had led to all of this. That was more important than the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you, destroying everything in its path. Of course it was. How presumptuous of you to think otherwise. The absolute gall of you to think you deserved any amount of time to feel sorry for yourself.

You gritted your teeth. She doesn’t know.

“Okay, okay. No problem. I can just tell you how to recover it.” You left out the fact that she could’ve easily searched it up online and saved you both the trouble.

“I’m not gonna know what or where anything is!” she objected. “Can’t you just come over and fix it? I'm freaking out. You can go crawling back to your stupid boyfriend after if it matters that much.”

She wasn’t thinking with a clear head, probably—letting her stress speak for her. But it was a push too far.

“I’m not your fucking babysitter, Iseul,” you spat. “You can’t just snap your fingers every time you want me to solve a problem for you. Figure it out yourself.”

The line went silent. Long enough for you to perfectly envision her hurt expression in your head.

“What?” it came quiet, meek. Everything unlike her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I'm tired.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the building sting. “I can't do this right now.”

“That’s n-not an excuse for you to talk to me like that,” her voice trembled. “I didn't do anything wrong!”

You heard a faint sniffle, and as exasperated as you were, it crashed guilt over you all the same. You didn’t want to make her feel like this. 

“I’m stressed so stressed out and you know how hard I’ve been working on my grades so I can get into grad school. Is it that crazy for me to call my friend for help? Like, am I wrong for thinking you care about me enough to save me from failing this fucking class?”

Each word, so tone-deaf, so lacking in self-awareness, added to the pressure filling up your head, heightening it so much until it was unbearable. 

“Do you ever stop to think about the way you talk to me?” you snapped. “Or is it too much to ask for you to consider someone else’s feelings for once?”

You were being harsh, unreasonable too. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to take it back, to do what you were supposed to do and just go help her. But your conversation with Chan—everything that had led up to that doomed, wretched conversation with Chan—was all too fresh in your mind, manifesting in the ugliest of ways against someone who didn’t deserve it.

You wanted to blame her. You wanted it to be all her fault. If she had just been there for you when you’d needed her, none of this would have happened. Even as you tried to convince yourself of it, you knew it wasn’t true. What had caused everything to crumble between you and Chan ran much deeper than that simple favor. The flaw was in the very foundation.

“I consider your feelings all the time! Are you kidding me!?” she exclaimed, offended by the accusation without taking even a moment to consider if it had any merit to it.

“Right,” you said bitterly. “That’s why you only ever reach out to me when you need something.”

You could practically feel her indignation burning up on the other end of the call, and you stopped to ask yourself just what the hell you were doing. This approach would never get through to Iseul. She was far too proud, far too sensitive to receive any kind of message when delivered so tactlessly. That was why your friendship had worked all this time, why you were one of the few people who got along with her. You were nothing if not tactful, enough for the both of you.

“So what!? Friends are supposed to be there for each other!”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “They are.”

Another spell of silence. You wondered, briefly, if she was catching on to what you were implying, but the moment she spoke up again, you knew it’d been nothing but another baseless hope.

“Don’t lie to me and say you wanna help me then!”

“I’m not lying to you!” you retorted. “I want to help you. Every single time you come to me, I want to help you. That’s the problem!”

You’d never even raised your voice at her before, let alone to this degree. You didn’t have to see her face to know she was frightened by it—yet another point on your list of reasons to feel guilty. 

“So I’m just a problem to you,” she concluded. You could hear the sobs beginning to build in her throat. “Great, thanks.”

“Iseul, that’s not—”

“Forget it,” she hiccuped. “It must be so hard for you, right? You’re so fucking perfect and I’m so fucking selfish.”

The line went dead, leaving you gripping your phone with such intensity you worried it might actually crumple under your fingers. Of all the ever-changing things in this world, the one you’d always been able to control was yourself. But it seemed even that was too tall of an order these days. 

Maybe you really did need to get that temper of yours checked out.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One hour later, you found yourself, once again, trudging miserably up a flight of stairs to meet your impending fate. Cold, exhausted, and filled to the brim with anxiety. You’d forgotten to throw on a jacket before leaving your apartment—far too preoccupied with the round table discussion taking place in your mind, one that was still well underway even as you impulsively made the decision to leave. By the time you reached the fourth floor of the complex, your teeth were chattering.

You gave the door a few knocks, drawing your hand back as soon as you did to rub it against the other, your best attempt at generating some warmth. There was no response for nearly a minute, and, with a tinge of fear, it dawned on you for the first time that Iseul may have very well given up and gone to sleep after your phonecall. It made your insides lurch. How could you have done this to her? How could you have let yourself be so caught up in your emotions that you treated hers so carelessly?

Why did you feel so cold?

Panicking, you knocked again, this time with a bit more force. It was nearing 4:00 a.m. now, there was still a chance for you to fix things before her deadline. There were so many things you couldn’t fix, you needed to make something right.

Finally, just as another shiver ran up your spine, you heard the click of a lock. You didn’t have the opportunity to collect yourself before the door creaked open.

The frown on her face only deepened when she saw who was standing before her. Lips curved sharply down, eyebrows lowering, eyes cleared from any residual redness, but still puffy—that strangely rejuvenated look after a good cry.

“What do you want?”

You flinched. “I’m here to help.”

She studied you without a word, but you didn’t miss the way her features mellowed the slightest bit. However coarse and uncaring she tried to make herself, she could never truly contain her expressiveness. 

You could see her weighing the options in her head, and, even as the biting chill on your skin wore your patience thinner with each passing second, you waited. You at least owed her that much.

“Fine.”

She turned, leaving the door open for you as she stalked into her apartment. With a sigh of relief, you followed.

You joined her on the couch, keeping a careful distance from where she’d slumped down. She slid her laptop over to you on the coffee table without making eye contact. It was open on a word document, two pages into her attempt at rewriting her essay. Not far off, you spotted a few stray tissues on the table, smeared black with mascara.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

You picked up the device, placing it in your lap and getting to work. Iseul’s eyes flickered over to you, more obviously than she probably thought, as you began clicking away, opening up the settings of the program and accessing the version history of the documents.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” You tilted the screen towards her. “There’s an autosave feature.”

She blinked, trying to keep up with your ministrations as you recovered the lost file with just a bit more fiddling around.

“Here. Make sure it’s the right one.”

Furrowing her brows, she scrolled through the pages and pages of her work, unable to mask her elation when she confirmed it was in fact her full essay, completely preserved from where she’d left off.

“It is.”

“Good.”

More silence. You wondered if that was your cue to leave. You’d done your job. You’d made yourself useful. There was no need to stick around.

Then, she said it; quiet, demure. 

“Thanks.”

A simple word, solidifying the belief that none of this had been worth it. Putting your feelings first was never worth it.

“Of course.”

A deep breath. 

“And, listen, Iseul. I'm sorry about what I said on the phone.”

She lifted her head, looking directly at you for the first time that night. 

“I was really stressed out about my own stuff, too, and I let my anger get the best of me. So, I’m sorry.”

Her expression changed, and though she looked like she was already prepared to forgive you, she didn’t quite say it yet.

“Is that really how you feel about me?” she muttered. “Like you’re my babysitter? Am I just a burden to you?”

A burden. It was such a heavy word, you knew it couldn’t be correct. Still, how could you explain to her that you were the problem in this situation? Worrying yourself with details about her that she didn’t even ask you to worry about, wearing yourself down without ever bothering to tell her, then snapping when it all became too much. 

It was an issue entirely of your own creation. She’d have to be as stupid and maladjusted as you to understand.

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re my friend, of course I wanna help you.”

“…But?”

“But…” you bit your lower lip. “Sometimes it feels like you just expect me to do things for you. Like, you don’t care about what I have going on as long as I can be there for you.”

You couldn’t explain why you felt near physically ill. You’d known this girl for three years, been friends with her for two, and spent practically every day with her for one. So why did being upfront with her seem like the most terrifying thing in the world? Like you were exposing yourself to a predator, completely vulnerable if she chose to swoop out and attack.

“Oh.” 

“I’m always gonna want to help you,” you explained softly. “So, sometimes, I just need you to care enough about me to make sure that I can.”

You could tell she still felt wronged, and maybe, she had all the reason to. The way you’d gone about it was less than ideal. All that care you’d always tried to treat her with, nullified in a matter of seconds, just like that.

“I guess I never thought of you as the type of person who’d need that.” She picked at the skin around her nails. “But sure, okay. I’ll try.”

You leaned back against the cushions, exhaling. It seemed unreal to you, all things considered, that you’d reached this point. That telling her what you’d kept buried in your heart for so long could have ended in anything other than disaster. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Iseul turned her attention back to her laptop, high-strung as ever as she scanned over her paper once more. A thought seemed to cross her mind, and when she spoke up again, you could tell she was doing her best to sound casual.

“Are you gonna go back to Chan, now?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.”

“You can go,” she mumbled. “I get that you’re like, in love with him, or whatever.”

The sting was back in your eyes. The pounding was back in your head. The chill was back in your skin.

“Chan and I aren’t together anymore.”

“O-oh.” 

Then, more troubled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

You straightened yourself up, forcing a feeble smile.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Iseul frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

“We'll talk later though, right?”

A lump rose in your throat. You could only bring yourself to nod.

For the next hour, you sat, unmoving, as the sound of Iseul’s rapid typing and frustrated huffs filled the room. Once she’d made the finishing touches to her paper, she submitted it with plenty of time to spare, lifting the weight off both of your chests. You sank your head back against the cushions just as she shut her laptop, a sigh of pure relief easing her nerves and yours.

Through her window, you could see that the sky outside was still blocked out by the low-hanging clouds, but even so, the world grew a bit brighter as day began to break and the sun began to inch its way up behind them. Iseul rested her head on your shoulder, and you at last allowed yourself to succumb to the fatigue that had been gripping your body for the past two days.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

When Chan's eyes blinked open, he wondered, faintly, if he’d been drifting off. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Exhaustion consumed him so perpetually these days, not even standing upright could prevent his head from hanging and his eyelids from drooping. He adjusted his vision to take in his surroundings—kitchen, he realized for the first time—but the fuzz in his mind didn’t clear. That was nothing new, either. It hadn’t left him since you had.

He hadn’t slept in three days, not for more than just twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Not even enough to complete a single sleep cycle. Not even enough to dream.

He’d been kept awake by thoughts of you before, more than he’d ever be confident enough to admit out loud. But it was different now. He used to be perfectly content lying wide awake, staring at his ceiling with the giddiest of smiles plastered on his face over the mere memory of you. It had been better than any dream his mind could conjure up. Now, he wished, more than anything, to drift off instead. At least that way, he could be in a state where he didn’t have to think at all. Or maybe, if he was lucky, a state where he could dream of you, to pretend like you were still here with him.

The shattering of glass snapped him out of his thoughts all at once. With a start, he registered that he’d dropped the cup of water he was holding.

He stared blankly at broken shards, scattered amidst the puddle spreading across the wooden floor. He should probably clean it up. The remains could hurt someone. 

He sank down to collect the pieces. Changbin liked this cup, he remembered suddenly. He’d gotten it on vacation. He was probably going to be upset. 

An unexpectedly sharp sliver of glass grazed Chan’s thumb, cutting it open and earning a slight hiss. He winced, dropping the fragments he’d gathered in his palm.

Blood began to bubble up on the surface of his skin, and he brought the injured finger to his lips. 

“Good job, Chan,” he mumbled, unsure of why his eyes were starting to sting. “You’re a good boy.”

The words didn’t calm him down like they typically would. In fact, they had the opposite effect. He didn’t want to hear himself say them. He wanted—

He curled into himself, shrinking under his clothes and barely managing to keep his balance as a sob racked his body. He pressed the wound closer to his lips, trying to get it to stop bleeding.

He didn’t even process the sound of the front door unlocking, or the approaching footsteps that followed. A familiar pair of green sneakers shuffled into his blurred field of view. Chan lifted his head, tears falling freely as he met Minho's deep stare.

He looked concerned, but not surprised. Not in the slightest.

“What happened?”

Chan kept his thumb to his mouth, chest aching from the cries he was so desperately trying to hold in. 

“I’m okay,” he choked out. “Just c-cut my finger.”

Minho crouched down, coming face to face with the older boy. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Chan held out his hand, placing it in Minho's waiting palm. Minho gave a light click of his tongue, as if unimpressed by the injury. 

“It doesn’t look that deep.”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a fresh wave of hot tears down his cheeks. “Feels like it.”

Minho hummed, half-sympathetic. But it was soft. The same way Chan would hear him murmur to his cats back home. He let go of Chan's hand, lifting his gaze to look him straight in the eyes, unfazed by how red and swollen they were.

“What did she do?”

Chan sucked in a shaky breath, nowhere near ready to talk. Minho waited for a few moments, then rose from his spot, opening the medical cabinet to find something to treat him with. He turned his back to sift through their sparse first aid materials, and the absence of his scrutiny was enough for Chan to muster up enough courage to answer.

“She left,” he managed to gasp. “Think it’s over.”

Minho said nothing.

“A-and, please, before you say you told me so…it’s not the same.”

Through the soft hiccups and shallow pants that filled the room, a sigh met Chan’s ears. 

“I got tired of telling you that a long time ago,” Minho replied. “And it never made me happy to be right, for the record.” 

He lowered himself to Chan’s level again, ripping open the antibiotic packet he’d retrieved and pressing the alcoholic wipe delicately to the cut. Chan tried not to pull his hand away as the harsh burn rippled through his skin.

Once the wound was thoroughly cleaned, Minho put the bloodied wipe to the side and wrapped Chan’s thumb with a bandaid. Chan tried to rasp out a thank you, but it only came out as another pathetic sound. He never felt more pathetic than when he cried in front of Minho. Minho, who he was supposed to be strong for. Minho, who, even at his lowest, only betrayed his heartache before others with a subtle twitch of his lips or a few rapid blinks, shooing his tears away for later.

Minho redirected his attention from the now patched-up injury, stone face softening when he caught the uncontrollable shake in Chan’s shoulders.

“It’s okay.” He rested his hand on Chan’s back. “You’re okay.”

Chan took a deep breath, scolding himself, berating himself, screaming at himself to get it together. To stop being so fucking pathetic. He’d cried so much already, cried until his head throbbed and his lungs ached. He was surprised he had any tears left in his system to begin with. Minho’s voice was gentle, but Chan knew what he must be thinking. He knew the frustration, the judgment, the disappointment that must be boiling beneath his composed visage.

“I c-can’t—” he swallowed down another gasp. “Can’t be okay without her.”

“You can,” Minho said simply. “You’ve been okay before, you will be again.”

“Really hurts.”

“I know.”

“Feels…” Chan touched his index finger to his thumb, running it along the smooth texture of the bandaid. He pressed down, just hard enough to draw out the light pain. “Feels like I lost a part of myself.”

Minho frowned, hand pausing its rhythmic movements along his back. He stayed quiet for several heartbeats, letting the weight of the admission fully sink in.

“Tell me everything.”

[dindjarindiaries]

I'll Be Yours If You'll Be Mine

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” / “It’s hot when you talk back.” / “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” (18+)

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You were pacing the floor of your flat, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, when you heard the telltale knock. It was the pattern the two of you had set long ago. Usually, it would make your heart race for a whole different reason. Tonight, however, it was simply anger.

You unlocked the door and let it slide open. Din stood there with his gloved hands set on his hips, his fingers tapping anxiously against his belt. His helmet straightened as his visor gave you a careful once-over.

"Hey." He lowered his hands to his sides and nodded towards the comlink that was still clutched in one of your fists. "Is everything okay?"

You took a step back, wordlessly inviting himself inside. Din hesitated a moment before striding through the doorway. You took a deep breath for composure, but the effort was in vain, and you snapped the same way the door did behind you.

"You're back in town, and I have to find out from a vendor?"

Din huffed, lifting a single hand back to his hip. "Is this the emergency you commed me for?" He used his helmet to gesture to your comlink again.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you crossed your arms. "Were you even going to tell me you were here?"

"So, you're not in danger?"

"Answer the damn question."

Din sighed. His helmet swung to the side, his voice lowering as he responded. "I'm just passing through. I'm not supposed to be back yet."

"But you are." Your jaw flexed. "And I had to find out from a vendor, Din. A stranger."

Din paused, his armored chest rising and falling in a steady breath. He then shook his head and started to walk forward. "I don't have time for this."

Before he could pass you, you set your free hand firmly upon his cuirass, splaying your palm across the silver metal and forcing him to stop. His visor was just inches away from your face, but you were too focused on your own rage to make note of it.

You swallowed hard, and when you finally spoke again, your voice was smaller, exchanging some of your anger for your hurt. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Din exhaled a light breath. After a few heartbeats of silence, he lifted a gloved hand to gently wrap it around your wrist. "I'm not."

Your gaze searched the void of his visor. "It feels like you are."

Din looked down as he lowered your hand from his chest. For a moment, he held your hand between his own, but he released it not long after. "Like I said before, I'm just passing through." His modulated voice was strained. "I'm not even supposed to be here."

You circled your jaw, your stare still focused on his visor. "I understand that." You steadied yourself with a breath and went on. "I just wish you had told me. I would've liked to see you." Your gaze flickered down in a moment of shyness. "If only for a little while."

Din tilted his helmet. "I can't always let you know where I am. It could jeopardize my jobs."

You frowned. "I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I know." Din sighed again and set his hands back on his hips. "But if I comm, then I risk someone hearing, and if I'm always here, they'll know where to find me."

Your brow shot up at his words. These were starting to sound like parting words. "What are you saying, Din?"

Din looked down and shifted his weight between his feet. "I'm just asking you to understand, as a friend��."

His words made your fragile recollection of yourself shatter. You tightened your hand into a fist around your comlink again and pointed the other finger into Din's chest. "But we’re not just friends, and you fucking know it."

Something shifted in the air as the words sat between you. Din's chest had stalled, his visor taking its time with giving you another once-over. You remained where you were, your own chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as you gripped onto whatever self restraint you had left to keep yourself from losing your cool.

It felt like forever until Din spoke again. His voice sounded far away, as if his mind was somewhere beyond this moment and this room. It was a rasp so low and so quiet that you could barely hear it. "It’s hot when you talk back."

You blinked a few times, your traitorous body preparing itself to melt at the words. Your stomach did backflips as you fumbled for something to say. "Are you serious?" You scoffed, flattening your hand against Din's cuirass to push off of it. He stumbled back a few steps, but was never at true risk of losing his balance. "I finally call you out on your shit, and that's all you have to say?"

Din shook his helmet at you before he chuckled. The sound was breathy, somehow managing to both piss you off more and to spread the hot flame that had started to burn deep within you. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

Din stepped forward, reclaiming the space you had tried to put between the two of you. He looked down at you, his helmet tilting as he spoke in a voice that was lower than you had ever heard it, practically a whisper that crackled through his modulator.

"You try to fight me every time you want to fuck me."

Your jaw dropped, and your heart went right along with it. Over and over again, you ran his words through your mind, but you couldn't begin to process them. Your body was starting to heat up so much, and so quickly, that you were about to break out into a sweat.

Din kept his voice low as he went on. "The reason why I can't see you when I pass through here is because I won't be able to keep myself away from you." He nodded towards the door that was still at your back. "When you let me inside, all I want to do is take you to your room and keep you there until everyone in this town knows I'm here because they've heard you screaming my name."

Your heart was thudding so hard against your chest that you were convinced Din could both see it and hear it. You were still staring up at him with wide eyes, breathing as if you had just run a race. Never once did you ever think you would hear such words from him, no matter how much you had hoped for it—and even dreamed about it.

Din let out another soft chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Your gaze gave him a slow once-over, buying you time as you still struggled to speak around the sudden lump in your throat. "Only if you really mean it."

Din wasted no time lifting his hands to the sides of his helmet. When the metal slid away from his face, the first thing you caught sight of was his brown gaze, which was practically black in his evident desire. The heat of the room increased tenfold with his obvious attention set on you. "I can prove it."

It was impossible to keep yourself away from him. You drifted closer out of instinct, your hands rising to the back of his neck as his settled on your waist. "What about your job?" You shook your head. "I don't want you to jeopardize it for me."

Din lifted an eyebrow. "I'd rather jeopardize a job than jeopardize what we have." He was so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he went on. "Especially now."

You hummed and began to smile at him. "Okay." Your nose brushed against his. "But you're not fucking me as a friend, right?"

Din huffed. "No." He tightened his hold on you, bringing you impossibly closer. "I'm loving you as yours." He nodded. "If you want to be mine."

You grinned, your lips teasing his as you echoed his same words back at him. "I can prove it."

Din returned your smile, and as his hot mouth finally met yours, you knew it would be a promised fulfilled, for both of you.

[danikamariewrites]

The Hand Thing (SMUT)

Eris x reader

Note: I feel like this is unnecessarily long but I will never pass up an opportunity to drool over Eris soooo that’s whats’s happening here. I’m also a huge slut for Mr. Darcy and the hand flex video came up on my TikTok so blame pride & prejudice for this one. This is part of the Corrupt story and I have linked Kisses and Romance Books :)

Warnings: mentions of oral sex, fingering

Eris’s hands are enchanting to watch. They’re strong and powerful, directing the Autumn army as their general and wielding the fire that runs fiercely through his veins.

They’re elegant in the way he writes, his calligraphy nothing less than perfect. Elegant in the way he ties and buttons his clothes.

But those slender, pale freckled fingers are most enchanting when they hold you. You feel so at peace in Eris’s embrace. His hands mold perfectly to the curves of your body, gripping your hips and the nape of your neck. They make you feel at home when he rubs circles on your back and threads his fingers through your hair. And when you're cold or in pain, Eris uses the fire in his veins to comfort you, heating his hands.

Now, sitting across from Eris at his grand oak desk, you watch as Eris flexes his fingers as he thinks. Balling his fist, resting his chin on the top of it as he lets out a sigh.

You just wanted to reach out and hold the tense limb. To press soft kisses across his knuckles. As you continue to think about your mates hands your thoughts divulge into dirty and depraved. Wanting more than him to hold you. Wanting…no.

You two haven’t done more than kissing and Eris eating you out. Your cheeks heat at the thought of your activities from a few days ago. While the feeling of his mouth against your pussy was euphoric, you couldn’t help but think about his hands squeezing at your things. The small bruises he left behind from how hard he dug the tips of his fingers into your flesh.

Letting out another aggravated sigh Eris leans against his high back chair. Not noticing that you’ve been staring intently at him for the last thirty minutes.

His hooded gaze traveled from the papers in front of him to your untouched book.

Those beautiful amber eyes landed on your face, noticing how your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth. Your own gaze focused on his large hands. “Something on your mind, little fox.” Eris teases. You let out a hum, snapping back to yourself. “Sorry my love, did you say something?”

Eris smirked at the airiness in your voice, flexing his hand, rubbing his jaw. You noticed the veins bulge a little on the back of his hand. Eris noticed what you were honed in on finally. His smirk grows at the realization.

His fingers curl, beckoning you to him. Plopping yourself in his lap you don’t hesitate to hold the hand that’s been your focus for the past hour. You lightly run your fingers across his palm and tracing up his fingers. Eris watches you with a love sick look plastered on his face.

He was already taken with you when you first met, but after becoming mates Eris knew he was done for. He couldn’t get enough of you. The male was truly in love with you.

“I want to know what they feel like.” You say, your voice just above a whisper. “What what feels like, my heart?” He asks softly. Meeting Eris’s russet gaze, your cheeks heat. Your lips part slightly as you try to get your words out. “Don’t be embarrassed heart, you can tell me anything. Promise.”

Inhaling deeply through your nose you let out a sigh. “I-I want your fingers, like in my romance novels. But like that thing you did with your mouth,” you rambled on, the signs of Eris’s arousal going over your head. The male could only stare at you wide eyed, lips slightly parted. The hand that rests on your hip tenses, grabbing your attention. “What?” You ask innocently.

Eris shook his head, still in disbelief. He was so proud of you for asking for something instead of waiting for him to show you. Slowly but surely he corrupting his sweet innocent mate. Making you needy for him and him alone.

“I’m happy. Happy that you trust me and want to explore these things with me.” You light up at his words, holding his hand to your chest. Batting your eyelashes at Eris you ask, “Can we now? I want Er, so bad.” You punctuated your words with a pout. Mother above, this is not going to make what Eris has to say next hard.

He folds your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips, placing soft kisses across your knuckles. “Unfortunately we can’t right now, little fox.” You frown damn near broke his heart. “I have to finish work but tonight, I promise. Ok?” You nod and he pecks your lips as a thank you.

——

After dinner you wait for Eris in his bed chambers. You had brought extra clothes for tomorrow so you wouldn’t have to creep back to your rooms in the morning. Even though you were right next to him. Still, you didn’t want to be spotted in your nightgown by the maids.

You perched yourself on the middle of his large bed, picking at the soft cream comforter as you waited. The bond in your chest thrummed. Eris was close. As he got closer and closer you felt that wonderful warm sensation grow. The first door opened and you perked up with excitement.

As he opened the bedroom door you jumped off the bed, running and flinging yourself into his arms. Eris scooped you up effortlessly, hugging you to his chest as he walked back to the bed. Laying you down Eris propped himself on his elbows above you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. He feels your smile against his lips, using his tongue to prod your lips open.

Pulling away Eris presses kisses to your cheeks and nose. “You look exquisite little fox.” He murmurs, eyes drifting down your cleavage to the lace and silk clinging to your form. His fingers lightly tracing your thighs that are still sporting bruises, though faint, from the last time he was between your legs. “Are you ready?” Eris breathed out.

“Yes,” you practically whine. Smirking, Eris slowly moves down your body. Running his hands up and down your thighs, the tips of his fingers flirting with the hem of your nightgown. “Please.” You beg him.

Eris pushes the silk up past your belly button pressing more kisses against your hips. Closing your eyes at the sensation you miss his hand move to your clothed core. Eris starts to rub your clit in small circles. You suck in a sharp breath, your hips jolting.

As soon as Eris could feel the wet spot on your panties grow he sticks his hand down your panties. His rough fingers touch your clit and you gasp. Your eyes flutter open to watch his movements. “Off,” you moan.

“What was that little fox?” Eris teased. “Take them off, p-please.” Another moan slipping between your tightly pulled lips. “Of course little fox.” Eris pulled your panties down with ease, tossing them to the floor.

His fingers return to your pussy, running his fingers through your wet folds. A growl sounds from Eris’s throat at feeling this new part of you. Last time Eris had neglected to dip his fingers in you, obsessed with the taste of you.

Eris slid one of his fingers inside you. Curling against your walls to get you used to the feel of him. And the feel of him was amazing. Much better than your own and even better than what you had imagined Eris’s fingers would be like this afternoon.

You go limp against the bed, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders. You moan as he adds another finger pushing all the way in to his knuckles. “Eris, that feels so good.” You breathe out.

He drops his face to your neck, licking and nipping to keep you stimulated. Your hands fly to his hair to tug at the firey strands.

As his fingers curl against your g-spot you feel his thumb press hard against your clit. Your mouth opens in a silent scream. Eris rubs your clit as he keeps thrusting his fingers. A moan falls from your open mouth right next to his. “So tight fox. You’re doing so good for me.”

You squeeze around his fingers making Eris groan. That feeling at the bottom of your stomach growing, a knot about to snap as Eris keeps pleasing you. “P-please Eris, please, please let me cum. Your fingers feel so good, please.”

Cauldron, your sweet begging is going to be the end of him. Eris loved you like this.

“Go ahead sweet fox. Let go, I got you.” He says sweetly. A few more pumps of his fingers had you coming all over his perfect hand.

Coming down from your high you hugged Eris to your chest. Not ready to let go of him just yet. His weight comforting on top of you. Eris pulled his fingers from you, lightly kissing up your jaw as he sat up. You watch with wide doe eyes as Eris licks his fingers clean of you.

You grab his hand, attempting to pull it back down to you but he was unmoving. “More,” you whimper. Your eyelids looked heavy as you blinked up at him. How were you so tired from just this, he thought to himself. Cauldron, what would you be like the day he actually ruins you with his cock?

“Not tonight, little fox. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed yeah,” Eris scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. Ready to pamper you and keep you in his arms all night.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | when you don't have enough rations to get your fix, you have to find something else to trade

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | a bit under 5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dubious consent SMUT (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral m receiving, creampie, sex as currency), orgasm control, slapping, choking, spanking, very dirty talk including degradation (slut, whore, etc.), possessiveness, discussions/threats of anal but no actual anal, just a touch of daddy kink and sir kink, implied age gap but not specified, joel is a lil mean but in a sexy way, reader is a pill user/addict

You chewed your nails nervously as you watched him walk up to your usual spot; you tried to act casual, but the more of this stuff you got, the more you needed it— and the more you needed, the harder it was to act casual when you knew it was coming.

“You got the stuff?” you asked quickly, giving your anxiousness away.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “you got the rations?”

You didn’t respond, even with a nod, you just pulled the stack of papers out of your pocket and handed them over. Your foot tapped on the ground— a little tacky, mud’s still drying from the storm two days ago— as he flipped through them.

It’s hard to say what you expected. Like he’d forget how to count or something? “This isn’t enough,” he informed you flatly, looking up from the stack to shoot you a glare.

“C’mon, Joel, be cool,” you whimpered, “so I’m a little short—”

“A little short?” he repeated. “This is less than half what you owe me.”

“Less than half? That’s fourteen— your prices went up?” you wondered.

“No,” he shook his head, seeming frustrated, “what you owe for today plus what you owe from when I spotted you for last week’s fix—”

“Fuck,” you groaned, “I forgot, I’m sorry— but you know I’m good for it.”

He tried to hand the ration cards back to you, and you bit your lip to stop it from shaking.

“I need this, Joel— you know I need this,” you began to ramble, but he stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, you cowered a bit just from how intense his stare was.

“You need to get it together, kid,” he warned you, but you were only halfway paying attention.

“M’not a kid,” you defended yourself quietly, though your mind was already somewhere else as your eyes on the hand holding your shoulder. "I'm low on rations," you admitted, "but I can get you something else."

He gave you a confused look, until you reached forward and rested a hand gently on his chest, through the heavy dark green jacket he wore. Then he understood, and gave you a disappointed look. "I don't do that."

"Do what, relax? Take some time for yourself?" you pressed, letting your teeth catch your bottom lip slightly. His eyes did linger on your mouth for a moment, and you hoped this was working. "How long's it been since you got some?"

"Not that long," he said defensively, letting go of your shoulder, but you stepped closer to him and kept sizing him up.

"How long's it been since you got whatever you wanted?"

That seemed to get his attention a bit better. "You can't just say that— you can't just offer that," he corrected firmly. "You say that to the wrong creep trying to get extra cigarettes or something and you end up—"

"M'not saying it to anybody else, Joel," you promised, "this is just for you— I never traded something like this before, but, you know… we go back, and I trust you."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Can I trust you?"

Smiling, you pressed your body up against his; he stiffened up— not in the way you were hoping, either— but didn't stop you. "Trust me how? What would I do?"

"I dunno," he muttered.

"I think the better question is, Joel," you lowered your voice as you looked at him through your lashes, "do you think I'm pretty?"

He scoffed, but you saw right through it. He was trying to tell himself he was better than this, that he needed the rations more, that you weren't worth the trouble. But his neck flexed and you knew you were in.

"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor," you shrugged, standing up on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear: "I always wanted to suck your cock."

"Goddamnit," he hissed, and you thought he was about to throw you off when he grabbed your arm. Instead, he started to walk and guide you with him. "Not here."

He took you, eventually, to his room— it was much more spacious than most, especially yours, and you wondered what you'd have to do to get to spend a night here.

A second later, he pulled you into him; his hands ran up your back, and you smiled as he pressed against you. "Lemme see you first, baby, lemme see you," he whispered, helping you out of your shirt and sighing as he grabbed handfuls of your tits.

Your hands, meanwhile, rubbed the front of his jeans— but he wasn't hard yet, at least not much. Not until he unbuckled your pants and pushed them down along with your underwear, immediately groping your bare ass with a sigh.

"Got a nice ass," he decided, jiggling it briefly with his hand— and before you could react to that, he slipped that hand around and cupped your pussy with it, sliding one finger between the seam of your lips.

"Fuck, Joel," you whispered, reeling a bit from how sudden it all was.

But then it stopped— just as instantly as it had started— and he sat down on the couch. "Well?" he prompted after you just stood there dumbfounded for a moment.

He kept his legs spread wide, and put his hands up behind his head as he leaned back. Why was that so hot?

Swallowing, you got down on your knees between his, running your hands up his denim-covered legs for just a moment before finding his belt.

He let you do the work, opening the buckle and sliding the leather out, reaching into the fly and pulling out—

Fuck, he was big. Thick as hell, a fat head with a vein running up the side… you let your mouth water, knowing it would make this easier, and held his shaft tight as you began to lean forward.

"Hey," he said suddenly, making you stop for a second. "You better make it good for me, or no pills."

Looking up at him and hoping your eyes didn't give your nervousness away, you nodded. He smiled, and leaned back to really sink into the couch.

You started with just a few gentle, teasing licks to the tip, one right over his slit, and his only reaction was adjusting his leg a bit. Taking the head in your mouth, you suckled carefully, letting excess spit run down until it collided with your hand at his base.

It wasn't until he started to get harder in your mouth that you realized he wasn't fully hard before. You knew he was hard enough and thought maybe that was where it capped out for a man his age— no, clearly not, and you felt your hand struggle to wrap fully around his girth as he grew even more.

Trying to sink your lips down further, you had to open up your jaw like you never had before; it wasn't painful per se, but it was an odd feeling, and your lips were a little dry to be stretched this far…

You took him deeper until the tip kissed your throat, and you started to really get into the rhythm of it as your hand stroked what was left in time with the bobbing of your head.

Just when you thought you'd found the pattern and pace that would take you to the end of this, you were interrupted. He smiled a little, and a hand grabbed your shoulder suddenly and tightly; you froze. "Slow, baby, slow," he reminded you. "There's no rush, okay?"

You nodded a bit, still holding him in your mouth, and resumed— much more careful with your speed this time.

"Better," he praised, letting go of your shoulder and getting comfortable on the sofa again.

You kept the same motions, but tried not to get too lost in it— letting your tongue lick and taste, trying to really treat him so you wouldn't get corrected again.

It was a struggle to get much deeper, not just for your throat but for your lips and jaw forced wide open. Still, you worked to warm yourself up, taking your time as he'd encouraged you to.

For a while, he didn't react much, though he did watch you very closely. The first thing he did to show he was really here was brush some hair away from your face, tilting your face back slightly in the process.

"Look up at me," he whispered, "there you go… pretty eyes…"

It made your chest warm and your pussy tingle for just a second; his stare was intense, you struggled to keep eye contact with him looking at you like that.

He held your head and started to move his hips a bit, gently sliding his cock in and out of your mouth— just an inch at first, and he held you still while he did what he wanted with you. "Pretty lips," he continued, running his thumb over them, tracing the shape your mouth was forced into by his cock. "Use that tongue, baby, I told you to make it good for me."

Humming in agreement-meets-apology, you ran your tongue firmly along the underside of his cock as he moved in your mouth.

That went on for a while until your jaw was fucking killing you and you had to take a break; even with his hands on your hair he let you pull yourself off, though the look on his face did show some confusion and disappointment.

That all changed when he realized what you were doing. He smiled at you— a dark, yet amused, grin— as you sunk deeper between his legs to lick his balls. They were heavy in your mouth, and a little salty with his sweat; the mix of dark and grey hairs rubbed roughly on your tongue. "That's cute," he informed you, running his fingers over your cheek for a moment. You weren't sure if that was the word you would use for this, but you didn't disagree because your mouth was full.

You switched to the other one, closing your eyes while you really savored it, tracing the shape of them with the tip of your tongue before sucking them carefully into your mouth.

He moaned when you did that, and you opened your eyes. He looked so fucking good like this, eyes shut and head fallen back and his hands tightening into fists at his side. "That's nice, keep going," he encouraged, suddenly grabbing your hair when you sucked even harder on the bulb in your mouth. But he didn't try to stop you, or guide you, he just kept it there and hissed in a breath through his teeth as you continued.

When your jaw had had enough of a break you tried to get right back to it, but he shoved your face back between his legs and groaned.

"Not yet," he snapped, "keep licking my balls— fuck, like that… so dirty, baby…"

When it was time for you to stop that and get back to the main event, he made it pretty clear; he pushed your head back and shoved his cock into your mouth, groaning lowly as he let go and let you get back to it. He seemed to like how eager you were now, not stopping you to slow you down like before.

You twisted your hand around him, because everything was plenty slippery enough to do that, as you bobbed your head; obscene slurping noises filled the room and you felt like a proper whore now, spoiling him with the absolute best head you had to offer, using your mouth to pleasure him until you couldn't remember any other purpose for it.

After a few minutes of that, he yanked you off of his cock by your hair, making you gasp and blink up at him. "Is it good, daddy?" you asked with a smile.

He slapped you quickly on the cheek, and you yelped a bit as your face spun to the side. But you moaned, too. "You like that?" he realized.

"Yeah," you sighed, "unless you don't want me to."

He laughed breathlessly. "No, it's hot— you're such a whore, baby, keep sucking…"

He guided you back, pushing his cock onto your tongue with just his thumb until you could wrap your lips around him again and continue your work.

"Fuck yeah," he sighed, head falling back again.

With each bob of your head, you took him a little deeper— deeper, deeper, until the tip breached your throat and he moaned loudly as you gagged.

"Yeah, choke on it," he encouraged, "show me what you can do— fuck, baby…"

Deeper, deeper, until his whole head was past the back of your throat and you fought the urge to swallow, knowing you'd have to start all over.

"Shit, that's good," he mumbled. "Really fucking good…"

You took him deeper still, until all of a sudden your lips were at his base and his dick was further than you ever thought possible.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, stroking your hair, "you— fuck, baby, that throat… you've got a fucking talent, kid."

You did not expect to get wet from him calling you that… maybe it's just because you never thought he'd say it in a time like this. But it made your thighs clench together and your hips shift.

"No wonder this is what you wanted to do, huh? Wanted to show me your little party trick, take my cock down your fuckin' throat?" he snarled. "Bet you do this all the fucking time, a blowjob for a fix or more rations or something else you want…"

You shook your head, and he laughed a bit.

"No? You're a good girl?"

You nodded, moaning around him.

"Then what are you doing blowing me for pills, huh? Is that what good girls do?"

You shook your head, but he pulled you off by your hair again.

"Say it," he ordered. "Is that what good girls do, suck cock for drugs?"

"No," you answered.

"No sir," he corrected.

"No, sir," you repeated, heat pooling between your legs until you worried you'd drip on his floor.

"Keep sucking, slut," he ordered, putting you back in your place literally and figuratively. "Show me what a bad girl you are— yeah, fuck, show me how you use that whore mouth, fuck—"

You struggled to get back into your pace when he was holding your head, moving you the way he wanted. Unlike before, he was speeding you up, faster and faster until he was basically just fucking your mouth. You did your best to use your hand, but eventually just gave up and kept your throat open, letting him use you however he liked.

"Gonna come in that pretty mouth," he promised, biting his lip for a moment. "Fuck, gonna fill that little mouth— don't swallow it 'til I say so."

You tried to nod, but your movements were controlled by him now; you felt his cock flex and pulse, and you shut your eyes in anticipation of it.

"No, fuck, keep them open," he pleaded, "look up at me while I come— yes, fuck, fuck!"

As he came, you sighed through your nose with relief. You were already thinking about getting that baggy of pills, about how deliciously high you were gonna be tonight, all because you did this. It took longer than you expected, but it was relatively painless— except for your jaw, and your throat, and your cheek, and your knees…

"Show me," he ordered, and you opened your mouth to carefully pool his spend on your tongue. "Mm," he hummed proudly when you displayed it all for him, holding your chin so he could turn your face either way and get a good look at what he'd done to you.

It was humiliating, sort of, and yet you felt proud of yourself when he looked at you like that.

"Good, baby, you can swallow now," he offered, and you did so quickly— but it didn't quite get the taste off your tongue.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you were about to try to stand up, maybe thank him for letting you do this instead of paying for the pills, but you realized this wasn't over yet just by the way he was looking at you.

"Come up here," he encouraged, patting his thigh and smiling down at you. "Let's see what else you can do."

With shaky knees, you stood up and took your pants off from around your ankles, climbing up to straddle his lap. "Are we really gonna—?"

He interrupted you by grabbing your hips and already starting to give commands. "Over here, baby, like this— there you go…"

He had you right where he needed you in order to guide his cock up to your hole and slide you down onto him. From the second his tip breached your opening, you gasped.

"Tight fuckin' pussy," he grunted, his top lip curling in a snarl for just a second.

He kept pushing you down until your inner thighs were pressed to his jeans, and he watched you shiver as his cock stirred places deep inside you— too deep, you'd thought before, for a cock to reach.

"Go ahead," he instructed, "ride."

You lifted yourself up and down, whimpering as his thick cock stretched you; it was taking you longer than you expected to adjust to it, but you almost didn't want to…

"Too big?" he wondered with a smug smirk.

"I-I can take it," you said, not sounding especially confident.

"You do this a lot?" he interrogated. "Ride big cocks?"

"No," you promised, "I don't— fuck…"

He laughed a little, and moved you so you had to pick up your pace a bit. You had to hold onto the couch to keep your balance as a wavering moan jumped from your lips. "Feels good, baby? Feels nice and thick, givin' that pussy a stretch?" he taunted.

"Yeah," you panted, "feels good."

"Who feels good?"

"You— Joel, it's you, you feel so good, you feel so fucking good," you babbled pathetically, moving faster again. He moved your hands from the back of the couch to his shoulders, before putting his grip back on your hips.

"Keep riding, baby," he instructed, "keep riding my cock, yeah, like that…"

Your head fell back and a low groan slid from your throat. "Joel," you moaned, "fuck, so deep…"

"You know I had to use this whole pussy, baby, every inch," he grinned. "Of course I'm deep— it's all mine, isn't it? I can go as deep as I want."

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding.

"I can go as hard as I want," he continued.

"Yes!"

"I can go as slow as I want," he added, laughing when you whined at the way he forced your pace to slow down again. "What's the rush, baby? Why are you always trying to get it over with? I know you fucking like it."

He held your face for just a second before he slapped it— then he did it again, again… just when you thought he'd never stop slapping you, he did, only to move his hand down to wrap around your neck. The way you gasped in anticipation, your walls restricting around him excitedly, gave you away completely.

"Shit, you like that too?" he grinned, massaging your neck so hard that it already made your head spin. You nodded.

He tightened his grip until your gasp was cut short and you were totally at his mercy, static filling your brain.

"That's it— fuck, you get really tight when I choke you," he noticed when he let go, and you coughed a little but moaned impatiently. "You want more? Shit… fucking slut."

He choked you again, your hips struggling to keep up the pace when all the air was gone; but that didn't seem to bother him much, if anything he liked seeing you struggle.

Still, he kept one hand on your hips to guide you, occasionally exploring with it so he could rub your thigh or play with your tits. It made you more aware that he'd never even taken his boots off while you were fully nude, grinding in his lap while he just sat back and watched you. You felt so inferior; why did it feel so good?

"Joel," you gasped when his roaming hand rubbed over your clit briefly. He smirked.

"Here, baby?" he teased, drawing the gentlest circles on your bud. "Want me to play with your little pussy, that's what you need?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you begged, but your words were cut short when the hand on your neck tightened again. He rubbed your clit hard, but you couldn't scream while he choked you, and your whole body felt like it was filled with pressure as he fucked up into you off the couch.

"Fuck, you soak me every damn time I choke you," he noticed; his voice was the only one in the room now with your moans silenced, and yet he sounded so far away past the ringing in your ears.

When he let go, you breathed in a deep gasp and moaned much louder than you meant to.

"Bounce on it, come on," he encouraged roughly, smacking your ass to kick you back into gear; you held on tight to his shoulders and swirled your hips, moaning shamelessly now at the feeling of his cock filling your sensitive pussy.

"Joel," you sobbed, "fuck, I— so good, I wanna— oh god—"

He slapped you one more time to get you back to your senses. "What's that, baby?" he pressed.

"I— I— fuck," you stammered, unable to get any other words out. I'm gonna come if you don't stop. But he didn't need to hear you say it, he already knew.

"You want more?" he grunted, watching your face closely. "You want more, baby? Say it."

Another hard slap to the face seemed to fix the part of your brain that makes words, and you spoke more coherently. "I want more," you whined, "fuck me harder, Joel, I want it!"

He grabbed you by your fucking neck and threw you off of him, onto the couch, with a sneer. As he shoved your head down and yanked your hips up, you arched your back to get yourself in position for him; but instead he smacked your ass hard and your back jolted up the other way.

"Slut," he scolded roughly, giving the other cheek a spank next.

You nodded against the couch. "I am, I am," you admitted with a sigh.

"Fucking dirty slut," he repeated, getting up on his knees to clumsily guide his cock to your hole; and you both groaned when he slipped in. "God," he choked, fucking you fast and deep right away, "so fuckin' tight— no baby, no no—"

He shoved your lower back down again when it tried to arch up, a natural response to his cock hitting the deepest parts of you. You yelped each time, a sharp pang in your gut with every thrust, but he fucked you as hard and deep as he wanted regardless.

"S'better— keep it like this, show me that ass," he ordered roughly as his gaze went back and forth from your twisted face of pain to his cock slamming into your cunt. "Good girl."

Even when it was getting battered to all fuck, your pussy managed to give him a nice squeeze when he said that.

"Real cute ass, too," he added, and you jumped a bit when his thumb brushed over your other hole. "Should I fuck it?"

"Joel," you gasped, not answering his question.

"Do you want me to?"

After hesitating, you shook your head.

"No?" he pressed.

"No," you admitted in a pout.

"Ask me not to," he ordered.

"Don't… don't fuck my ass, Joel, please…" you obliged, not sure if he was taunting you before he did it anyways or what. You both knew that you were in no position to stop him.

"What's that? You don't want it?"

"No, Joel, please! Not there!" you pleaded again, a little more emphatically.

"So I can't?"

You hesitated again. "You can… I just don't want you to," you relented, and he laughed.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm not gonna," he promised. "Pussy's too good. You're just cute when you're scared."

You couldn't say if that was true, but one thing you did discover was that you came faster when you were scared; it was already reaching the point of no return, that feeling deep inside. It was building faster than you could handle it, like he was forcing the pleasure to overtake your body— like your body obeyed him before you now. "God, fuck, fuck—" you choked out weakly, starting to shake all over.

"Close?" he noticed, and you nodded. "Not 'til I say so."

"Fuck, Joel, c'mon," you whined, getting another spank for your insolence.

"Not 'til I fuckin' say so," he insisted, speaking through his teeth as he kept a bruising grip on your hips. "Better not fuckin' come until I say, got it? Or you're not getting your pills."

"Okay, okay," you panted, "not gonna come unless you let me… I'll come when you say, just please…"

He chuckled a little, making you whimper in the back of your throat when he angled his hips to push his cock as absolutely deep as you could go; you'd never gotten a stomach ache from sex before, but he was churning everything inside you and making your whole body his plaything. Was that why he was going to make you wait to come? To make sure you knew how easily he owned you?

'Cause then it wasn't really necessary; you already knew, it was obvious.

"Good girl," he praised again, and you shivered all over; he fucked you harder, keeping up a ruthless pace, and you knew he was close.

At least, you hoped he was close, 'cause you weren't sure how much more of this you could take.

"Whose is this, baby?" he asked in a rough voice.

"Yours, yours," you promised with a whimper, "s'all yours, daddy, everything— s'all for you."

"Damn right," he grunted in agreement. "You're mine, baby— my whore, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you agreed fervently, "fuck I'm gonna come, Joel, please… please let me—"

"Come, whore."

He groaned as it hit you— he must have felt it— and you made a sound you were pretty sure you'd never made before as your fingers clung tightly to the cushion under you.

His pace faltered and you were so lost in your ecstasy that you didn't even question it… until he slowed down to a near stop, grunting weakly with every stuttered thrust into you.

"Oh god," he moaned, "that was good."

When you realized, it was far too late. "Shit, fuck!" you spat. "You came inside?!"

"You said 'whatever I wanted'," he recalled, not seeming to feel very guilty for what he'd done.

"I said I wanted to blow you," you remembered, starting to sober up very quickly, "and you fucked me— and you fucking came inside, asshole, what the fuck am I gonna do if—"

His grip tightened on your neck again, and you stopped. "Quit fucking whining or I'll give you another load," he warned, letting go of your neck a second later and finally pulling out.

You swallowed, awkwardly laying your sore hips down on the couch. "You could… really do that? You already came twice."

"I lied— it has been that long," he admitted. "And with a tight pussy like this to fuck?"

He looked over at you, grabbing your thigh and lifting it so he could see his come leaking from your abused hole.

"Yeah, I could go again," he assured you, patting your ass gently after he let it drop back down. "You'd have to suck me for a while though, get me hard again…"

You sat up, slowly, and found more soreness in your muscles than you expected. "How many pills would I get? If I did that?"

He looked at you and smirked. "Whatever you want, baby," he promised, and you absent-mindedly licked your lips. He laughed as you leaned forward, getting on your knees beside him so you could put your head down in his lap. "Really? You were just bitching at me, figured you'd wanna leave and go shower so you could wash all that come out, try not to get knocked up."

You lifted his softening cock up to your lips, suckling at the tip and humming at the taste of yourself on his skin.

"But you wanna blow me again, huh?" he continued, voice raspier as he pet the back of your head. "Wanna get me hard so I can fuck that come back into you?"

You didn't respond to his question, just started to find your rhythm again until you heard him moan lowly as you sucked.

"Damn, baby… gonna get all the pills you want…" he mumbled his promises. "Gonna be my little whore, right? Gonna take care of daddy?"

Shutting your eyes tight, you hummed around him; this was far from over— this was never gonna be over. This was the new normal. At least you could keep your rations… hopefully.

"Yeah, that's what I thought…"

[starofthesea7]

König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

[jayschaconne]

GREEDY | Park Sunghoon

warnings: (MINORS DNI) Heavy smut, swearing

a/n: needed to write something for my bae before I got busy with midterms.

…

Dimmed lights, blinds shut, you sprawled across the bed on all fours. You suddenly felt his large hands slap your ass, leaving a stinging sensation but still making you want more.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. You were immediately yanked by your hair, forced to look up at him from behind you.

“What did I just say?” The sweetness of his voice had never gone away.

You couldn’t possibly hold yourself back when he was giving you exactly what you wanted.

With a a harsh grip on your hair, fisting it in a ponytail, Sunghoon had slowly eased himself inside you.

It was so hard not to scream at the sensation. You’d been drunk on his dick for so long, it was a feeling that grew stronger every time he fucked you.

He may have had a temper at times but made sure he didn’t actually hurt you.

It took seconds for him to start ramming into you recklessly, with the speed of a wild animal. “Oh, you’re probably so relieved you’re getting fucked like the greedy little whore you are,” he spat out.

“Fuck me up! Please that feels so good,” you screamed out. With each thrust, the bed shook, creaking and threatening to break. It was accompanied by the sound of your moans, loud, desperate. He was already fucking you balls-deep but it still wasn’t enough.

The speed at which he’d been going had made the sounds of skin on skin so intense, your knees shake even as he held you in place. Sunghoon’s arms made their way around your neck, choking you as he stopped momentarily, but then continuing at the same speed. Every groan that came from him made him sound thirsty, parched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunghoon,” your eyes rolled way back into your head, your voice quivering at how fast he was going.

He flipped you over in an instant, still on his knees, as you lie in front of him. He stroked himself a few times, then looked over at you. He was a beautiful mess.

The sight of his dick, hard and throbbing, made you salivate. You didn’t waste time taking him in your mouth, sucking him off just the way he liked.

Your reached over and played with his balls, another hand stroking his dick as you took him deeper. One of the only guys you’d actually liked tasting on your tongue and swallowing was Sunghoon. He tasted so good.

Groans ripped through him as his hands took ahold of your head and he thrusted into your mouth. “Ah, fuck,” he growled. “You’re always so fucking needy for me.”

You stopped for a moment, looking up at him through your lashes. You stroked him as your tongue had been sticking out. He knew what you wanted.

He slapped his dick on your forehead, all over your face, teasing your mouth for what it wanted a taste of again.

“You filthy little slut. You can never get enough.”

He started to fuck your mouth again, shoving his dick down your throat, not bothering to stop. Because he knew how much you wanted it.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he moaned as he picked up his pace.

Instead of coming down your throat, he pulled out just in time and came all over your face, his climax reaching your tits as well. You loved the feeling of having his cum all over you.

With a sudden movement, you felt your body drop onto the mattress, tits bouncing in Sunghoon’s face.

“Open,” he’d said, signalling you to spread your legs apart.

You gladly obliged, a smile on your face that showed him just how much you loved this.

Sunghoon’s long, slender fingers had found your clit, rubbing circles teasingly. He smirked down at you. And boy was that a sight to see. The sweat that had formed on his skin. It was visible on his forehead the most. His bangs were damp from all that energy he spent just a few minutes ago.

His muscles were flexed as he pulled his fingers in and out of you, first at a steady pace, then back to a faster one. He pursed his lips, enjoying the way you screamed out for him, seeing your mouth hang open, how your tits bounced with each thrust.

He looked heavenly right now. It was definitely the sight of him that was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Hoon, I’m gonna cum,” you cried out.

“Come for me baby,” that was the only time he spoke to you with such tenderness that night.

That wasn’t Hoon. That was your boyfriend Hoon.

“Fuck,” You sobbed as Sunghoon helped you ride out your high. Your head rolled back into the sheets, back arching with the sudden wave of pleasure. His hands slowed down their movements once you’d come undone around his fingers, knowing you shouldn’t be overstimulated.

It wasn’t long until your legs had been facing the ceiling, with him ruthlessly pounding into you again.

[callsign-dexter]

Late Night Confessions 18+

Request: Oh my lord you do Tim Bradford imagines ? 🥺 Now I love you even more than before !

My bday would also be next week, so I might wanna send something in, but only if you have time. No problem if you don't want to ❤️ 

You being Tim's new neighbor and you both seem to be secretly catching each other's heart, but you don't think you'd stand a chance with a handsome police officer like him. One time after shift you call him over for some help at the house and he gladly comes to help you. Then you insist that he stays over for dinner as a thank you and later as he's about to leave you kiss him. Instead of pulling away he grabs you and you end in bed ? 💗🍀

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Evers!Lawyer!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, smut

A/N: Happy birthday/belated birthday to the annon who sent this in! Prepare yourselves @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms.

 You had just moved to LA and were currently moving into your new house. You had just broken up with your boyfriend after you found him cheating on you with his secretary and you were looking to move when the perfect opportunity opened up. You were a lawyer and a new position opened up in LA and you took it even before your boss could even ask you if you wanted it, you just wanted to get out of Florida. This was also a chance for you to be with your older brother and his wife, who you loved so much. You could’ve asked your brother for help to move in but you didn’t want to inconvenience him so you said “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.” Even though your brother had told you to wait until he got there to help and he could bring a dolly but you were stubborn which helped you in court a lot and had won many cases and some major cases.

It was a Saturday and you had closed on the house a week ago but you needed to sort some stuff out back in Florida. You sighed and looked at all the boxes you had still yet to unbox but then you got to work. You had unpacked the majority of the light stuff but now it was on to the heavy stuff. You got most of the boxes in but you were struggling with one and you tried multiple of times until you set it out down with a huff. You put your hands on your hips and glared down at the box “Why do you hate me so much?” You asked it like it was going to answer you.

You were going to try to move it again but a male voice was heard “Need any help?” They asked and you looked up at the voice and saw two guys were heading your way. One was handsome tall and the other was a little bit older and you smiled they looked trustworthy.

“If you don’t mind that would be great. I just have a few heavy boxes and my bed to move and that is it.” You said “I’m Y/N.” You said and held out your hand for them to shake and they did as they introduced themselves to you.

“I’m Tim Bradford.” Tim said and you could’ve sworn you fell in love right then and there and then you let go of his hand and turned to the other male that started talking and smirking.

“I’m John Nolan.” Nolan said and you smiled and shook his hand and then let go and then you turned and pointed to the box on the ground.

“If you one of you don’t mind moving this one, it’s being stubborn. It goes into the kitchen.” You said and they chuckled you were funny and they liked you.

“Of course.” Tim said and he bent down and picked it up with ease and you watched his back flex and you wondered what he would have looked like without a shirt. You stared at him and watched him walk into your house when John’s voice shook you out of your day dream.

“What else do you need moved?” He asked politely and you smiled. You pointed him to the truck.

“I’ll show you.” You said and he nodded and then you both got to work. It didn’t take long and everything was unloaded and all that was left was your chest of drawers, bed, couch, and table, you had already unloaded the chairs. The three of you got those unloaded and situated. “I’m sorry if you making you spend your Saturday like this but I really appreciate it.” You said feeling guilty especially after looked down at your watch and saw the time.

“Nonsense. We were happy to help. Tim actually just lives next door so it wasn’t a bother at all.” John said and you perked up at that and smiled. “I have to ask why you moved to LA.” John asked taking a sip of water from the water bottle that you had given them once you all were done.

“I’m a lawyer. I got an incredible offer and I took it also my boyfriend cheated on me with his secretary. Plus, I’m gonna be closer to my brother.” You said and they nodded listening “What about you guys?” You asked.

“We’re police officers for LA Police Department.” Tim said and you smiled.

“Well thank you guys so much. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other a lot. I’ll find a way to repay you as a thank you, I would offer you something to eat or make you something but I don’t have a stocked kitchen yet.” You said looking down.

“You really don’t have to do that.” John said and you looked up and shook your head.

“I want to. I’ll get it to you somehow.” You said

“No seriously it’s fine. We’re always happy to help out a beautiful girl like you.” Tim said and you blushed and looked down.

“Ok.” You said

“We’ll let you settle in. If you need help, I’m just next door.” Tim said and you smiled.

“I won’t hesitate to ask.” You said and he smiled and nodded and then they were on their way. You walked them out and shut the door and leaned against it. All you could think about was Tim and how handsome he was but you pushed it to the back of your mind because there was no way you could be with him. He was handsome and you thought you weren’t he could have anyone he wanted and you weren’t going to stand in his way.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The next day Tim and Nolan went to work and Tim was nonstop smiling and in a really great mood and this creeped most of his coworkers out. Nolan knew why but wasn’t going to tell anyone else. Briefing went off without a hitch and before they knew it, they were out in the streets doing what they need best. When lunchtime rolled around, they met at their normal spot. Instead of them splitting up like they normally did they actually sat together but that was probably because all the tables were full. “So, Wesley and I are having a welcome party for his sister.” Angela said as she took a bite of her food.

A collection of “I’ll be there.” And “Count me in.” were heard from the group. They didn’t fail to notice the friendly interaction and smiling Tim and Jackson had to ask the question everyone was dying to know.

“What’s got you so happy?” He asked and Tim looked at him.

“What do you mean? I’m always happy.” He said and a few scoffs were heard from the group and he looked at them all “What? I am.” Tim said.

“Sure.” Lucy said and taking a bite of her lunch.

“He met his new neighbor that we helped move in yesterday. He’s in love.” Nolan said not able to hold in the news any longer. Everyone smirked now that they new what was going on they now had something to tease him about.

“I am not in love.” Tim said and everyone rolled their eyes but smirked but they were saved by a call coming in and splitting up their little group meeting. Tim was certainly in love and he knew that but he wasn’t going to admit that.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had just made it through your first day at work and now you were meeting with your brother for lunch. You had agreed from him to come and pick you up when you saw his car you smiled and walked over to it as he got out and opened the door for you. You got in and he shut the door “How was your first night in LA?” He asked as he pulled out onto the street.

“It was good! I met my neighbor and he helped me move everything into the house.” You said as he stopped at a stoplight.

“That’s great! I’m glad you’re fitting in and loving LA.” He said as he pulled up to a small cute café that everyone raved about. He parked and killed the engine and then the both of you got out and walked in. You walked to the counter and ordered and then went and sat down to wait for your food. “So, we’re throwing you a welcome party.” Wesely started and you gave him a look “Before you even start. We’re doing it and you can’t say no.” He said and you huffed.

“Fine.” You said

“Love you, sis.” He said and you rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Love you too, bro.” You said then your order was called and he walked over to get it and then walked back to you and you both ate and caught up on everything you missed in each other lives.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The rest of the day went off without a hit. Everyone was really nice and friendly and valued your opinion. You went home with a smile. You had just pulled into your driveway, parked, killed the engine, and got out when you saw Tim’s truck pull into your driveway. You smiled thinking about how nice he was but knew he would never fall for a girl like you and as you thought about that the smile turned into a frown as you walked to your mailbox. Apparently, Tim had the same idea because he was doing the same and when he saw you, he smiled “Hey Y/N.” He said and you looked up at him and put a smile, one that didn’t meet your eyes.

“Hey, Tim.” You said sounding a little defeated and he frowned not liking the tone or the smile that didn’t meet your eyes.

“Everything ok?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yea, just a little tired from the first day. Also, my brother is making me go to a party.” You said and smiled.

“Well, I hope you have a nice time while there and have a little fun.” He said and you smiled.

“I will. See you later.” You said and he nodded.

“See you later.” He said and then you both went into your houses and you got ready to head over to your brother’s and sister-in-law’s house.

It was time for you to leave. You looked yourself over and then you were off to their house. You walked out to your car and frowned when you didn’t see Tim’s truck in the driveway but you shrugged and got into your car and turned the engine over and headed off to their house which was only 15 minutes away. When you got there you raised an eyebrow when you saw Tim’s car in the driveway and several other cars. You pulled up next to Tim’s truck and killed the engine and got out and walked over to the house. You walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell and waited a few seconds later your brother was opening the door smiling. “Y/N! You made it!” He said.

“I hope I’m not late.” You said and he shook his head.

“Nope. Right on time. Now come in. I want to introduce you to some people.” He said and you followed him in. Instantly you spotted Nolan and smiled.

“Hey, John!” You said and he smiled when he looked up and saw you and walked over and hugged you.

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” He asked releasing you from the hug and before you could answer Wesely came over and threw an arm around you.

“This is my sister. How do you two know each other?” He asked

“He and Tim helped me move in when I arrived.” You said and then just then Tim walked in from the backyard along with your sister and 3 other people that you had yet to meet.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Tim asked and you smiled and walked out from under your brother’s gaze and walked over and hugged him.

“Hey! I told you my brother was making me come to a party. Wesley is my brother.” You said as you released each other from the hug. Then he turned to Angela.

“Wait, Y/N is your sister-in-law that you were talking about at lunch?” He asked and she nodded and then the three other people introduced themselves as Talia, Lucy, and Jackson.

“Food is about ready. So, make yourselves comfortable and it’ll be here before you know it.” Wesley said and you nodded and smiled, your night just got even better. Everyone mingled about and ate food when it was ready. As the night was dwindling down most people were leaving and slowly you helped clean up despite being told you didn’t have to but you weren’t the only one there, Tim was there as well. In no time you were done and Angela and Wesely were thanking you profusely. You both ended up leaving at the same time and when you arrived in your respective houses you both said goodnight and you both headed in for the night ready to settle down and get another day started.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A few months later and you had gotten to know everyone very well and you loved everyone and they loved you. You had practically become family and had everyone’s numbers and they had yours. You had the day off whereas everyone else had to work. You had just gotten back from the store after getting groceries for dinner. As you were starting to get ingredients together and went to turn on the water in your sink it sputtered and then stopped at all together which you thought it was weird because you know you paid the utility and water bill and your shower had worked this morning. You sighed you didn’t have the tools and were about to give up and order out when you heard Tim’s truck pull up into his driveway. It seemed like he just got off of work and you hated to do it but you needed help. So, you grabbed your phone and went into your contacts and hit his. It had rung 3 times before he answered.

“Hello?” He asked and you smiled.

“Hey, Tim. I hate to bother you but I need your help.” You said biting your lip.

“Everything ok?” He asked

“My sink in my kitchen just went out and I don’t have the tools to fix it.” You said

“Well, I think I do. I’ll be over in a minute.” He said and you smiled.

“Thank you so much.” You said

“It’s not a problem.” He said and then you both hung up.

Just like he said a minute later he was at your door ringing knocking and you walked over and opened the door and smiled and let him. “I don’t know what happened. It was fie this morning.” You said as he bent down and got under your sink and you had a good view of him and you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

“I see your problem.” He said “It looks like a pipe had come undone.” He added and then a few twists he was tightening it and you watched his arms flex. “There.” He said and came out from underneath your sink and turned on your sink and it shot out water at first but it was working.

“Thank you so much.” You said as he turned off the water. “You should stay for dinner. I was just about to start cooking but the sink decided to be a bitch to me.” You said and he chuckled.

“Ok, I’ll stay.” He said and you smiled.

“Great! I’m making steak fettuccine.” You said filling the pot with your now working sink.

“That sounds good. Anything I can help with?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Nope.” You said popping the ‘p’ “You already helped me with my sink. Now it’s my turn to repay you.” You said and he sighed.

“Fine.” He said with a smile and watched you work around the kitchen with ease. “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked generally curious.

“My mom mostly but Wesley and Angela and I trade recipes a lot. Wesley actually taught me as well.” You said as you strained the noodles and checked on the steaks which was almost done. The two of you talked while you finished cooking and then you two were plating up and sitting down to eat as you grabbed some beers from the fridge. You both talked throughout the dinner and laughed both of you secretly falling more in love with each other.

“Dinner was delicious.” Tim said as he put his plate in the dishwasher after dinner was done.

“Thank you. It’s my signature.” You said and put your plate in the dishwasher. He took the last sip of his drink and then turned to throw it away.

“I better get going.” He said as he turned to face you and you knew it was now or never and so you said ‘Fuck it.’ To yourself and stepped closer to him and smashed your lips onto his with your hands on the side of his face and it took him a second but he kissed you back and grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You two only pulled apart when air was needed and you two looked at each other both of your pupils were blown and your lips were back on each other’s. He patted your thighs signaling you to jump and you did so and you wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He started walking into the direction of your room, which he knew where it was because he had helped you move in. With each step you could feel his erection through his jeans and it was rubbing you where you needed it the most which caused you to moan in his mouth. When he got to your room, he walked you to your bed and gently laid you down without breaking the kiss. You once again broke apart when air was needed.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile now.” You said and he smiled.

“So have I.” He said “May I?” He asked when he put his hands on the hem of your shirt and you nodded and he carefully pulled it up and over your head to revel your lacey navy-blue bra. He started to unbutton your jeans and he slowly slid them off as he kissed down your sternum to the top of the you matching underwear. He hooked his thumbs in them and slowly slid them down until they were off and you made quick work of getting rid of your bra.

“Hey, you have to many clothes on.” You said and he chuckled and he slowly but quickly shed his clothes and you were right he was built and just the way you had imagined. His erection sprung up and hit his abs. Your mouth watered and you clenched around nothing.

“Like what you see?” He asked and you moaned and nodded.

“Yes, I do.” You said and he smiled and then he got back on to the bed and spread your legs and slowly kissed the inside of your thighs all the way up to where you need him most. You were already soaked. He licked a broad stripe up your soaking core and you moaned. He ate you like you were his last meal and he was wanting to savor it. Your hands clenched your bedspread and your head was thrown back. “Tim.” You moaned out. He licked you up and down and tongue fucked you and then when came up and paid attention to the bundle of nerves that made the rubber band start coiling up. What did you in was when he pushed a thick finger in and started to finger fuck you and then he hit you g-spot and you were cumming screaming his name and he was just licking up your juices. As you were coming down from your high, he was sitting up and you could see your juices on his chin and then he slowly pulled his finger out of you and then put it in his mouth licking it clean and the sight of that made you moan.

“You taste so good.” He said and then he was crawling up and kissing you letting you taste yourself. Tim then moved down to your neck. He pumped himself and then positioned him at your entrance “If you need me to stop just tell me.” He said and you nodded as he pushed himself in. He stretched you in ways you haven’t been before and none of your past lovers/boyfriends have done before. “You’re so tight, baby.” He said and he stilled letting you adjust.

“Move.” You moaned out and he nodded and started to move and it was heaven. He filled you like nobody else had before and hit you in all the right places. “Oh, Tim.” You moaned out and he smirked against your neck and he gently bit it and that made you moan. Your hands went to his back and your nails dug into his shoulders creating indents from your finger’s nails. “Faster, baby.” You moaned out and he did so. The rubber band in your stomach was coiling back up.

“I’m close.” He said looking at you in your eyes and you nodded. Sweat had covered the both of you and the room smelt like sex and sweat. Both you guys’ breathing was heavy.

“So am I.” You said and then his thrusts started to get sloppier.

“I’m gonna cum.” He said

“Me too.” You said and then he stilled and painted your walls white as the rubber band snapped and you came for the second time that night. It was a good thing you were on birth control. He slowly slid out of you and laid on the other side of you. You curled up on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you and you drew shapes on his chest as his other hand came and rested on your hand which was drawing shapes on his chest.

“You were amazing.” You both said at the same time and you chuckled and looked up at him as he looked down at you.

“I’ve been slowly falling in love with you ever since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He said and you smiled.

“It was the same way with me when you agreed to help me move in.” You said He leaned down and kissed you. “It’s late. You should just stay the night.” You said and he nodded once you both pulled away.

“I think I can do that.” He said and kissed your forehead. You pulled back to the covers back and the both of you worked easily and effortlessly to get underneath them. You cuddled up against him again and both of you fell asleep with a smile on your faces. Boy were you glad that your sink decided to break and that he lived next door with the tools you needed.

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[albuuqer]

Home, at last.

manga spoilers! chapter 237 included.

Megumi Fushiguro reunites with his family, finally.

The water that surrounded him stilled to a stop, making him float between the tides. His eyes were squeezed shut until an arm shook him whole, awaking him from a dream that felt way too long.

“Megumi,” The voice kept on calling, still shaking him, “Megumi, wake up!”

He knew who it was. That voice was Tsumiki’s. But that was impossible. He remembers. She was dead. He was the one who did it.

“Megumi,” She beamed, forcing him to open his eyes, “Megumi!”

Megumi couldn’t move. It wasn’t like before, when Sukuna trapped him inside his own body, and he couldn’t move. This time, he just didn’t want to move in fear of making it all disappear. This had to be a dream, right? If he lifted a finger, it could all dissolve into his mind. And he’d have to face reality. Wait, what reality? Where was he before? In Shinjuku, where he…

“Come on, Dad’s making pancakes!” Tsumiki slapped his arm one more time before bolting out of the room, a bounce in her steps.

Dad? Who, Toji Fushiguro? That is impossible. What kind of nightmare was this?

Megumi carefully lifted the blanket from his body, only to freeze once again. He was tiny. Incredibly, absurdly tiny. Avoiding his suspicions, he stood up and opened the door. The corridor was familiar, everything was.

And it was all confirmed to him when a voice exclaimed, “Satoru!”

Megumi froze again, dread creeping up his spine like a disease. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t possibly be.

“I got this!” Gojo assured dismissively, very much not getting it albeit his words.

He was there. Alive. Smiling and joking as always. Like nothing had changed. Megumi never felt so relieved in seeing Gojo, the same Gojo that used to annoy him endlessly, but that brought so much comfort as of now.

Beside the man, stood you. You from his memories, the one that he kept safe in his heart. Not the you from the real world. The you that he killed a few days ago.

You rolled your eyes like you always did. In a way that shows love.

“You got a burning pancake, that’s what. Even our neighbors can tell,” You smacked his hands away from the pan, handling it with caution before smoothing the surface with butter, “Set the table instead, will you?”

“You can’t kick the chef out of the kitchen! It’s like,” He bit his lip in contemplation, searching for an analogy that would leave you tongue-tied, “Kicking the musician from the stage!”

“Alright, Michael Jackson, my bad,” You laughed wholeheartedly when Gojo sticks out his tongue to you, “Go and wake up the–”

“Good morning!” Tsumiki interjected, waving her hand to you.

“Tsumiki,” You smiled immediately, you always did when you saw him or Tsumiki. For some reason, that made Megumi feel worse, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes!” His sister sat in a stool that used to be too high for him to reach, “Megumi must’ve slept even better, I couldn’t wake him up!”

“Is that so?” You chuckled lightly, but then frowned at the silhouette standing in the corridor. Tilting your head, Megumi tensed up when your eyes focused on him, a smile adorning the corners of your lips, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Megumi!” Tsumiki turned to face him, smiling too.

He walked up slowly to the counter, climbing into the stool on Tsumiki's left. Your eyes were no longer on him, which gave him time to regain his composure.

What was going on? Is this a dream, an illusion? Or is this the “life” that flashes before your eyes just before you die?

“Show off,” Someone scoffed beside him and Megumi almost forgot that Gojo was there. The man was leaning on the counter, admiring–no, scratch that, worshiping you flip the pancakes in the air.

“You’re just jealous,” You humored him, flexing your arm that held the pan as if being able to flip pancakes was a medal, “Now, which shape should I make?”

Tsumiki’s face lit up when you looked at her, awaiting her reply, “A heart!”

Megumi’s mouth moved on its own, “A dog!”

“A dog is too hard,” Tsumiki countered matter-of-factly, “A heart is simple!”

“A heart is too corny!” He argued childishly. Well, he was a child, technically.

“You’re too corny!”

A gasp ripped out of his throat, eyes bulging out of his tiny head to glare at his sister as if she had uttered the most heinous profanity at him.

Gojo laughed, his hand trying to muffle the sound, while you let out a breath that resembled a chuckle. He and Tsumiki only stopped bickering when you pushed two plates across the counter.

A heart-shaped pancake with strawberries and rose syrup drawn into a smiley face, banana slices framing the heart with raspberries in between the circles, on the rightmost plate. That one was Tsumiki’s, for sure.

And an oddly shaped pancake that, if you squint hard enough, could bear a resemblance to a canine creature–but Megumi knew what it was; three blueberries connected by thin lines of chocolate syrup, forming a triangle that was identical to the one on his Divine Dogs’ foreheads. That was his.

“Ta-dah!” And you smiled like you hadn’t made the sweetest thing for them just now.

Tsumiki’s eyes started to sparkle, “Thank you!” And she dug into her plate, munching the soft batter with an unwavering smile.

Megumi, on the other hand, wouldn’t budge.

“What’s wrong, Megs?” Gojo asked him curiously when he did nothing but stare at his plate, his lanky figure leaning on his shoulder. Fingers wiggling towards his plate, a mocking grin on his lips, “If you don’t eat, I’m sure someone–”

A spatula smacked his hand away, “Don’t pick on someone half your age, Satoru,” You chastised, but couldn't hide the endearment in your voice when you said his name, “What are you, a bully?”

Gojo held onto his hand as if a curse had just bit it off, “When did you get so violent? To get physically attacked under my own roof,” He deflated into a stool, throwing his head back while he lamented his situation, “What a cruel world!”

“Shut up and eat your pancakes,” You nagged, handing him a plate full of your failed attempts of doing Megumi’s dog-shaped ones.

“Do you even love me?” Gojo asked, utterly offended by the food that was given to him.

Megumi usually muted the squabble between the two of you in his head, unless you were insulting Gojo and needed backup (he’d gang up on him with no hesitation). But this time, he could but stare at the couple of idiots that picked up a pair of strays and raised them. Before Megumi could stop it, his eyes were pricked up with tears.

You took notice of it first, ignoring Gojo’s whining and turning to him, “What’s wrong, Gumi?”

The pure softness of your voice made him want to cry harder. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening, or where he was and what it meant.

But he knew that he missed it.

The light-hearted quarrels between you and Gojo, the tranquility that mornings brought along with them, the easy-going atmosphere that always engulfed the Fushiguro-Gojo household when the four of you were together.

When did all that go away? Was it when Tsumiki got cursed? Or maybe when Gojo was sealed and everything in Shibuya turned the world upside down? Was it all gone the moment you left this world?

“Gumi,” The nickname snapped him out of it, reminding him of where he was, “Are you okay?” He was with you, with his family.

You, Tsumiki, and Gojo were staring at him worriedly. You had circled around the counter, facing and cupping his face onto your hands, holding him with so much care that he could do nothing but lean into your touch.

“I–I’m,” His mouth felt suddenly dry, no matter how much he licked his lips, “Can I hug you?”

Your eyes melted into a puddle of love and adoration, your arms wrapping around his tiny frame that trembled and quivered like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Your quiet, sweet voice only made him sob louder, “We’re here, Gumi, you’re here.”

Megumi felt another pair of arms pressing up against him, Gojo hid his face in the crook of your neck but he somehow knew the kind of expression that the sorcerer was wearing. The kind of face that made curses and humans alike to tremble in fear. The sort of emotion that always appeared when someone dared to hurt his family.

Tsumiki nestled into your arms too, shielding her little brother from the world with her tiny arms. And you held them both in your own, with Gojo.

Megumi grabbed a chunk of your shirt, clenching his fist around the cloth. Gripping into you as if you were going to fade and slip through his fingers.

“You’re here,” You caressed his back, making little patterns with your finger. Megumi sniffled harshly, trying to just stop crying but he couldn’t. You pressed a kiss on the crown of his head, “We’re all here, sweetheart.”

Gojo ruffled his hair like he used to do when they met, and Tsumiki held his hand in the same way she did back when he was scared.

And, for a moment, Megumi forgot.

He forgot that this wasn’t real. And that Tsumiki was gone, that you were killed and Gojo defeated. He forgot that he was in Shinjuku, staring in the backseat of his own body at Hajime Kashimo, who challenged him–no, not him, Sukuna. He forgot that he had died.

But, for once in his life, he got what he wanted.

He was home. With his family.

my son :(

[fastboatsmojito]

Deleted the ask on accident sorry LMFOA

I actually reblogged a post by someone else with a similar request a few days ago, I just reblogged it again if u want to check that one out 🫶🏼 but I took a different approach with it and threw in a little ongoing slow burn/very light angst in the beginning <3 enjoy

|wc: 1.6k ish oops

Also influenced by ‘I can see you’ by TS

18+ Smut btc !!!!

You knew when the hand on your waist trying to ‘move past you’ lingered a little too long that it was going to be a long day.

He’d been doing things like that all week — steadying your shaky hands with his own while you were trying to concentrate, praising your work more than anyone else, you couldn’t get away from him.

It was hard enough just working for someone so distracting. You could hardly stop yourself from drooling the first time you saw him, briefly introducing yourself and trying not to let your eyes pause over the tattooed forearms he was using to throw bags of flour around like nothing.

Now it was even worse. You couldn’t tell if the lingering touches and stares were on purpose or if it was just in your head. For a while you tried to ignore it; he was your boss after all and you didn’t want to lose your job. Regardless of how hard you tried you couldn’t get him out of your head.

You tried not to talk to him most of the day unless you had to. It’s late, you got caught up in trying to perfect the latest dish and by the time you looked up to grab something from the walk-in almost everyone else was gone. Except Luca. Of course.

His back to you, flour covered apron still on as he was just starting to clean up. You sighed and walked to the walk-in. At least he was leaving soon.

To your dismay you needed something from the tallest shelf, practically the only one you couldn’t reach. You only had a few options; leave it and deal with it tomorrow, ask him for help, or try to reach it yourself.

So like any sane person would, you decided to climb the shelves. You cautiously made your way up and you were just about to reach for it when you heard someone come in.

Shit.

“Need some help?” He was standing directly behind you grinning, open hands ready and willing when you looked down at him.

“Think I’ve got it actually.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Clearly.”

You were reaching as far as you could but you just couldn’t grab it from this angle. You tried to climb back down but your apron got caught on something, you let out a gasp as you almost fell. Suddenly Luca’s hands were on your waist, helping you steady yourself to get down.

He grabbed what you needed and kept it in his hands as he looked at you like a disappointed teacher. You were avoiding eye contact, the long gone warm hands gripping your waist still burning into your skin.

“What’s going on with you, chef?”

He didn’t sound as pissed as you thought he would, worry in his tone.

“Nothing- I think I’m just tired. I should go.”

He was getting closer to you, not stopping until your back was almost right against the shelves. You had to look at him now.

“I know It’s not that. Talk to me, please. Did I do something wrong?”

He sounded hurt and you said no a little too quickly. His expression changed, he was looking for clues in your own.

“You didn’t do anything wrong I just-“ You paused, thinking about how to tell the man towering over you that he was so hot it was distracting and you just didn’t want it to be weird for him.

“-I just don’t want to make it weird. I really like working with you. Here, I mean. It’s nice.”

Without thinking, your eyes drifted to his arms when you said it. They were occupied holding the box of something you couldn’t care less about anymore. He put the box down then, moving even closer to you if that was possible.

“Make it weird? What d’you mean?”

He folded his arms. God. Was he flexing? When you looked back up he was smiling, curiously awaiting your answer. Your face warmed under his gaze even with the cold.

You shook your head.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

You were stuttering under him. The musky scent of his cologne filling your nose while you tried to control thoughts you of him turning you around and seeing if the walk-in really was sound-proof.

He uncrossed his arms, moving so they were both situated beside either side of your head. Faces so close you had nowhere else to look. Your breath was shaky, you were clearly cold but the warmth emulating from his body and your own kept it from bothering you too much.

“You look like you want something, chef. Why don’t you just ask for it?”

You thought he was about to kiss you then, warm heat pooling between your legs. It was obvious he knew how flustered he was making you. Instead he simply handed the box to you and walked out.

What the fuck.

You walked out, sat the box down and tried to get back to work. He went right back to cleaning like nothing happened. You couldn’t concentrate anymore, choosing to go splash some cold water on yourself.

You got a look at your disheveled reflection in the mirror, apron and shirt wrinkled from his hands, flushed face. The cold water didn’t do much but you were determined to finish the dish.

You went back to your station just as Luca was taking off his apron, his shirt lifted just for a second and you almost groaned seeing a peek of his abs. He saw you stop to look at him, grinning when he saw you close your legs together just a bit more.

You brushed it off, he was about to leave. You could do this. Focusing on the steady movement of your knife, getting into a nice rhythm with the different elements of your dish, you were finally satisfied with it.

“Precise cuts, clean plate, incredible work, chef.”

You jumped. He was leaning on the counter right next to you, you couldn’t remember seeing him walk over to you.

“I- thank you, chef.”

You smiled quickly at him, bringing your eyes back to the dish.

“You’re a great learner you know. Patient, attentive, determined, you might be my best worker.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, looking back at him.

“Might be?”

He laughed softly and shrugged.

“No, you definitely are.”

You grinned and looked back down. Well, tried to. One of his hands came up to grab your chin, keeping your eyes on his as he moved closer to you.

“Tell me what you want.”

For the second time tonight he was so close you could smell his musky cologne mixed with the sweet-bready smell of the restaurant. It was intoxicating. You leaned into his hand, his thumb stroking just above your jaw.

Fuck it.

“I want you.”

He looked at you for a second before moving both of his hands to your waist and placing you on the counter, standing between you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in to kiss you. You were intense, hands running over his chest and into his hair as you opened your mouth slightly to let his tongue in. He was calmer, rough hands steady and slow.

He pulled away to kiss down your neck, taking your apron off. You moaned softly when he nibbled at the skin above your collar bone, leaving open mouthed kisses to soothe the sting.

You moved your hands under his shirt, he pulled away to take it off as you did the same.

Fuck me.

He was even hotter like this, messy hair and quick breaths, you were making work even harder for yourself but you didn’t care. He was focusing again on your neck and chest as you were unbuttoning your pants, then you caught a glimpse of the clock.

“Shit, openers will be here in like an hour.”

He looked up at you, lifting you up a bit to help you push your pants off.

“Yeah, we won’t need that long.”

You pulled him into you to grind your clothed core over his achingly hard dick. You were moaning into each other’s mouths when he grabbed your hips and moved one of his hands down to touch you through the soaked fabric.

“Damn who made you this wet, chef?”

Your mouth was open, eyebrows knitting together as he brought his fingers up to your clit.

“Fuck- don’t call me that right now or I’ll-“

You interrupted yourself with a moan as he pulled your underwear to the side to glide his fingers up and down you, juices dripping out of you covering his fingers.

“You’ll what? Get worked up thinking about me all day?”

You nodded your head, words getting stuck in the back of your throat.

“And what if I want that?”

You were trying to answer him, you really were. You wanted to tell him how cocky he was being, but you were too focused on his hands.

One on your waist keeping you steady while two fingers on the other were teasing you, going up to rub your clit just too lightly and then back down to your entrance and staying there.

You were moaning into his mouth again.

“Luca- please.”

He was enamored with you, looking everywhere you’d let him as your pretty sounds filled his ears. He chuckled as you grabbed his wrist, finally pushing a finger into you.

He started slow, curling his finger up and dragging it all the way out and then back in while you tried, and struggled, to keep kissing him.

“Tha’s it. Take it, just like that.”

He added another finger, speeding up a bit and moving his thumb to rub at your needy clit. You were close already and he could tell, moving his thick fingers faster.

“C’mon I can feel you squeezing my fingers, let go for me.”

“Gonna be thinking about this pussy all night.”

———-

GOD

[elfven-blog]

Maybe it’s just the holiday season and I’m a sucker for it, but what about Leon and some Christmas themed? Running late coming home, weaving through the airport to make it home to you in time for your first Christmas together. Or even tenth. So much snow but everything lit up from the holiday lights! A trip to a cabin to get away from it all! Anything just seasonal 🎄☃️

AN: I hope you enjoy!! Sorry it's after christmas 😭

The Cabin

Leon Kennedy x Reader Word count: 1k

You watched the snow falling, your finger lifting to trace where the snow turned to water as it hit the car and in the reflection of the night you could see Leon’s hand move to shift the car's gear as he focused so intently on getting you both safely to your destination. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as a frustrated groan left his mouth, and he shook his head. “Why in the damn?” he didn’t even finish his sentence as he let out a grunt, his eyes closing for a moment. 

With his little sighs and frustrated noises had caught your attention as you shifted to look at him, one of your brows arching. It was easy to know why he was getting worked up, after all you had meant to be at the cabin nearly 2 hours ago but for unknown reasons it seemed like every other person had also decided to travel for Christmas on that very day.

Your hand reached for his knee, squeezing it lightly as you gave him a gentle smile, and it was like all that frustration melted away from just that. And he sighs, bumping his knee up as a way of acknowledging you and he turns his eyes back to the road. It takes another hour before you reach the cabin.

The sky is darker than he would have liked it to be, but at least he got you there in one piece he thinks, and he ushers you into the warmth while he gets your backs. Not missing the way your eyes linger on his arms, just imagining the way they flex under his jacket. He smiles as he closes the trunk of the car but it’s wiped off his face when something cold and hard hits the blonde strands, immediately breaking on impact.

Leon turns towards you slowly, a look of betrayal on his face “Oh so that’s how it’s gonna be huh, princess?” and he drops your bags to the snow floor, before swooping down to get his own snowball. You have only minutes to back away and find somewhere safe before the ice cold hits your back, and you tense up from the feeling.

The agent hides behind the car, watching you with predator eyes, waiting for your next move. Eyes narrowed as you move behind the wall that covers the cabin’s garden. Both of you make a few snowballs, but Leon seems to be faster at it, putting his training to use by making snowballs. You can’t help the laugh that snorts out of you at the very sight. “I’m not sorry! It’s payback for keeping me in that car for so long!” Your voice rings out like honey to him, and you watch as his jacket moves in a shrug. 

“You could have walked” He responds before pelting one of those white balls of death at you, but you watch his brow furrow as he misses and his mouth falls open in surprise. You have to bite your lip to stop the laugh, so as not to embarrass your partner, but a small snort still manages to escape and Leon turns to glare at you, shaking his head.

For a while none of you move, both assessing the other’s cover and wondering how you’d strike the other. That is until you carefully craft a plan. Leon swears he saw the mischief glint in your eyes before it was gone, but you’ll end up never believing him. He watches your arm move, and prepares to move out of the way of your attack but it doesn't come. No, instead what feels like a ton of snow lands on top of him.

He looks up in confusion to see the tree above where he parked is now bare of snow. Mostly because it has landed on his hair and jacket, quickly turning to water as it drips below his clothes so fast that he’s shivering before you know it. You start to feel bad as he stands up from his crouched position and slowly starts walking towards the cabin.

Clearly uncomfortable at the amount of snow and water now covering him. “That was an unfair move, sweetheart” His eyes move to look at you, but there’s a slight hint of pride in them. You stand up to try and help get some of the snow off him, awkwardly smiling at the man as you  brush the snow off his shoulders. And then you grin at you before he shakes his head like a dog. Quickly covering you in snow too.

“Leon!” comes the cry from your mouth as snow ends up down your top and against your trousers, but it only draws a deep chuckle from the man as he picks your bags up again. Heading towards the cabin again.

“Call it payback” he retorts your own words at you, and with a roll of your eyes you open the cabin door for him. Both of you sighing in relief as you're hit with the warmth of being inside. Shutting the door as soon as you can, as if blocking out the outside so that you’re in your own world of warmth and safety.

Once everything is packed away, and you’ve managed to light a fire, you both settle onto the sofa. The thickest blanket you’ve ever seen covers you both and Leon’s put some christmas film on, but you’re not paying attention instead your eyes are starting to flutter shut. Your hand clenches his shirt before you jerk again, eyes shooting open and you lift a hand to rub across your face. Leon notices quickly the way sleep seems to be quickly weighing heavy on your eyes.

“C’mon princess, let’s go to bed” He whispers from somewhere close, but you’re far too tired to know where, his hot breath fanning over your skin as his hand comes up to caress your cheek. You're vaguely aware of nodding at him, of the tv being shut off and of the shift your body takes. Leon carries you in his arms to your rented bedroom, soft mattress below you that you quickly nuzzle into. It’s a few moments later that you feel arms pull you into a warm chest, and a hand runs through your hair “Goodnight, sweetheart”.

[billys-pretty-babe]

Morning Sun

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary : Waking up beside Billy was one of your favorite things in the entire world, especially the way his skin looked in the morning sun.

Warnings : Suggestive comments, swearing, brief mention of Billy having to protect himself from Neil

Word count : 704

A/N : It's nearly midnight, I have classes in seven-ish hours but I feel bad after not writing and publishing for a few days.

The birds woke you up along with someone's dad mowing their yard and children screaming in the cul-de-sac of Cherry Lane. The Mayfield-Hargrove family was all out of town besides Billy, left behind to watch the house. You gently rolled over because Billy was a light sleeper, he had to be when Neil was around, and you didn't want to wake him.

Billy laid on his stomach, his limbs strewn about in the small bed, one leg hanging off the bed, one of his pillows on the bedside table near his lamp. The sun lit up the room and hit Billy's skin as you traced his soft back muscles before he clenched his fists, flexing the muscles as he noisily stretched, his back cracking in a few spots along with his shoulders.

He made a soft sound and nuzzled into the one pillow that remained on his side of his bed. "Where'd my pillow go," he asked as his words slurred. You laughed and leaned over him to grab his pillow. "Lift your head." He lifted his head and you placed the pillow under him, moving his hair so he wouldn't pull it before he laid his head back down. He rolled over to look at you, his eyes hazy, sleep still heavy in them and he lovingly smiled at you, placing his warm palm on your cheek.

"You been awake long?" You shook your head, "Three minutes at most." He nodded and lifted his left arm, inviting you to lay close to him and you smiled before scooting to him as you cuddled up to him, throwing your leg over his waist. He kissed the top of your head and you smiled and placed a kiss to his chest as you ran the pads of your fingers down his back, gently rubbing.

He hummed and yawned loudly and obnoxiously. "Was that necessary," you asked as he loudly smacked his lips and he chuckled, making your head slightly move with his chest. "Very," he said in response before intertwining your fingers together and bringing your hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on each knuckle.

He looked at the clock on his wall and groaned. "It's not even eight yet and those fucking kids are already screaming." You laughed at him and he looked at you, glaring as best as he could with heavy eyes. "Well, we'd be well rested if it wasn't for someone's late night antics." Billy smirked as he remembered the activities from the night before that went well in the early AM.

"No regrets." You both laughed as you tightened your leg around his waist before he rolled the two of you over so he was on his back. You ran your fingers through his slightly tangled hair as he hummed, his eyes shutting. "You tangled it." You laughed as your eyes rolled. "You kept telling me to pull it, it was bound to get tangled." His eyes fluttered open before he smirked and you knew he was going to make a witty comment. "We got tangled together last night." He chuckled and you kept a straight face and he tickled your side, "Oh come on, you know that was funny." You grimaced slightly, "Baby, that was the worst joke ever." You both laughed and you put your head on his chest, playing with his necklace.

"I like this," Billy softly said, "it feels so natural just basking in whatever the fuck this is." You laughed, knowing exactly what he was trying to say as you nodded. "I know what you mean." He nodded and found your hand once more as he held it again, gently lifting it up to see the linked bracelet with his initial on it along with a lifeguard float, something he gifted you not too long ago.

"I love you." You smiled up at him and kissed his jaw, light stubble on it that gently scratched you. "I love you too, B." He smiled and kissed your forehead before loudly yawning again. "I need more sleep." You hummed, your own eyes shutting as you felt his warmth radiating onto you. "Me too." He softly laughed and held you tighter before the two of you fell asleep to the sounds outside.

[buryustogether]

-> i really fucked it up <-

jackie welles x reader (v)

wc: 6.6k

summary: jackie told you not to take this job. now you’re fucked in more ways than one.

warnings/tags: kidnapping, some mild torture, violence, blood, weapon use, swearing, established relationship, angst, couple fighting, smut, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, possesive jackie, almost a dash of yandere if you SqUiNt

author’s note: started working on this, had to go to the hospital. bon appetit. (spanish to english translations at the bottom.)

based on ‘i really fucked it up’ by girli

Jackie had told you that this was not a job you could do alone. He’d warned you from the very start, when you’d stepped into Vik’s clinic while he was getting his chrome repaired and presented the plan to him with nothing less than a flourish and confetti. Yet even with your tactics laid out, with every detail plotted and every possibility planned, he still said no.

You had told him he was starting to sound like his mother. “You worry too much,” you had said and taken a seat beside the chair as Viktor had tinkered with a cybernetic in your man’s forearm. “It’s going to be low-profile anyway. Arriving tonight in a tiny port just north of Pacifica, in neutral ground. No gangs to claim it. No one to hear about it but you and me.”

“And where did you hear about it?” Viktor had asked.

“Nowhere,” you’d replied. They had both given you identical looks of skepticism that made your skin crawl. “A fixer I met a few weeks back. He’s a choom. Hooked me up with a few good takes recently.”

Jackie had released a heavy exhale from deep within his belly. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from admiring the way his abs flexed beneath the fabric of his tank top as he breathed. “Still doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he told you as his hand was released and he flexed his fingers. He shook his palm out. “Just let it go, carino.”

You wished you had listened to him.

It must have been hours since the Maelstrom had caught you while loading crates of Kiroshi tech into your ride, eyes wide and lips parted in shock like a lizard in the Badlands stuck frozen in a pair of approaching headlights. It must have been hours since they had knocked you to the ground with a couple well-placed pistol whips that made your head spun, since they zip tied your wrists and ankles behind your back, manhandled you into the trunk of a Thornton, and brought down the butt of a shotgun against the surface of your temple.

There were no windows in your little makeshift cell, so you had no idea what time it could have been.

But it had to have been hours.

When you woke to a reality-splitting, teeth-gnashing, tech-glitching headache, you had discovered your captors had handcuffed you to a bathtub faucet over yourself so that you were forced to recline back in the tub to avoid your wrists snapping. The wall to make the bathroom private had long ago been torn down, giving you a generous view of the rest of the abandoned apartment the gang was using as a hideout. It was just as you had expected from cybercosis-pushing freaks like them; ratty couches and scattered drug bowls, pieces and bits of bloody tech littered across tables and countertops, a spotty television playing somewhere along the far wall. A number of them milled about, coming and going, kicking up feet or pacing with automatics clutched in hand. Your mind was far too much of a fuzzy static to even think of counting them.

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea why the Maelstrom had not killed you on the spot when they showed up to nab the Kiroshi tech and you’d already been there. You had seen them shoot to kill for worse. Hell, you’d once witnessed a junkie get his guts blown out over spitting too close to a Maelstrom’s shoe.

You didn’t know why you were here, why they hadn’t popped your head off with a simple squeeze of the trigger. You did know, however, that you needed to get out of here - before they suddenly got any ideas and started picking you apart for your chrome.

Pulling gently against the handcuffs around the faucet already digging bruises into your wrists, you sat up as much as you were able and sniffed. The air reeked of sitting water and mold. If you had to guess, you were probably still in Pacifica. The fact struck you as odd. Maelstrom’s turf bordered Watson to the north, not all the way down here in the high-as-hell land of the delusional wash up actors. Something was up.

You blinked against the black eye that was surely forming on your face and licked your cracked lips. Sweat beaded on your upper lip, and you wiped it off on your upper arm. No reason to give them any sign that you were actually incredibly nervous.

“Hey, toothpick,” you called to a Maelstrom reclined back in a couch within your vision. He was skinny as all get out, and the five red cybernetic eyes drilled into his face made him look like some kind of fucked up bobble head. “Can I get a little something to drink? No offense, but your service here sucks. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

The goon rolled his wrist to flip you off before settling back against the ratty cushions again.

“I’d really like to speak to your manager,” you went on, craning up in the filthy tub. You couldn’t imagine what you must have smelled like. “This is getting to be unacceptable.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little bitch.”

“Make me, big boy.”

In less than a few moments’ time, the goon had gotten to his feet, crossed into the dilapidated bathroom, and brought down a chrome-d out fist against the planes of your face. Pain like fire and ice raced through your systems, throwing your head back and pulling a startled yelp from the back of your throat. Tendrils of fury and shock ebbed through your veins, but they couldn’t do much against the rocking, uncoordinated sensations now holding the reins to your world.

“You better learn to get that tongue under control before you lose it,” the goon said somewhere above you, and you felt him shove your face against the side of the grime-ridden tub. “The Voodoos don’t take too kindly to backtalkers.”

Attempting to keep the bile in your throat down, you blinked a few times against the haze clouding your vision. You felt a bit of hot, thick blood slowly trickling from your nostril. Was your nose broken? “The Voodoo Boys?” you asked through the thundering in your ears. “I didn’t even think you and them brushed dicks, with your hunting ground being up north.”

The goon’s boots crushed broken glass beneath his weight as he leaned back against the sink that looked ready to collapse with just a wrong look in its direction. “We don’t,” he said, then spat on the ground before pulling a cigarette from behind his ear. “Black magic fools have got a pretty price out for your head, baby. Turns out they don’t take too well to having their gun market shot up.”

You sniffed at the blood leaking from your nose.

Oh - yeah, you had done that. A few weeks back, you’d picked up a gig that required the need for a human trafficker to be taken out before he could make his business boom. Turns out, he’d been hiding in Voodoo territory. One thing had led to another, as they had the tendency to do, and the entire ordeal had ended with a dead trafficker, a bullet graze to your arm, and a small firearms market in Pacifica in hysterics trying to escape your gunfire.

Much as you despised this city sometimes, you had sworn an oath to yourself when you first began to pull dangerous stunts like this all those years ago. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t let an innocent person get caught in the crossfire.

It had been easy at first. Deal with business in back alleys where no one was around, and no one but those who deserved it got hurt. But things slowly got complicated. Jobs required public spaces and less room for error. Civilians got curious and peeked behind the curtain. Accidents happened.

There had been an instance that still stuck in your mind to this day, a young man who had been so absorbed in the music blaring from his headphones he hadn’t even heard you screaming at him to move as your target raised a pistol. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. You could still recall the smell of iron as you tied a tourniquet around the kid’s shoulder and called emergency services on your vision screen. He had cried. Begged you not to let him die. Apologized for getting in the way, anything and everything that came into his disoriented mind.

You never knew if he made it or not. The ambulance had whisked him away too quickly, and the shadows you’d been hiding in were too dark for the officers to spot you.

That day you shot up the Voodoo Boys’ gun market, no bystanders had been injured. You made sure of it.

But it seemed they still had not liked the bullet holes stuck in the walls.

“So what?” you finally said as the Maelstrom goon exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You going to trade with them or something?”

“Precisely,” he replied, then inhaled again and blew the smoke in your direction. The cloud of white made your eyes water, but you refused to let him see how the pain made you squirm. “Deal’s going down when the sun’s up, so I’d make my peace with whatever god, if I were you.” He grinned a sickly-looking smile, showing off the metal caps on his teeth that made him look like a mechanical demon of some kind. “I hear they like to play with their food before they eat.”

He left you in the tub, hands cuffed above your head and blood spilling from your nose, down your cheek, into the fabric of your collar. Everything in you ached, especially the place somewhere deep in your middle where you’d been kicked a number of times back at the docks. You wouldn’t doubt it if a rib had been cracked.

Christ, you were so fucking naive. Of course your new fixer had sent you right into a set up. Now that you thought about it, you had once seen a Maelstrom tattoo poke from his sleeve when he lifted his arm. He was going to profit from this circumstance, Kiroshi tech or ransom.

Turning your face so that the goons wouldn’t see the red lights that flooded over your optical units, you brought up your vision screen and attempted to call Jackie. Before the first ring even had a chance to begin, a message erupted across the screen.

OUTGOING CALL UNAVAILABLE.

Releasing a slow, pained breath, you shut your eyes and rested your throbbing head against the edge of the tub. They had told you not to do this, much less alone. Jackie had told you to drop it, because he’d been in this business longer than you, and he knew when lost causes were lost. Fuck, you should have listened to him. Why did you have to be like this? So gung-ho, so eager to impress even when you had no one to prove yourself to?

Deep down, you knew why. It was because you were a street rat. A kid who had been pawned for a few grams of drugs, a mutt that had been raised by the bouncers and madams and right hands of gang leaders your entire life. It was because the world had decided early on, before you could even speak up for yourself, that you were going to be a no one.

Then, in what had seemed like your first stroke of luck, you had met another no one.

Jackie had been running with the Valentinos when you first met him; he’s been nothing more than an errand boy then, some scrappy kid with a limp in his leg and his teeth bared when someone even glanced at him. You had been caught rifling through the side bag of some big shot Valentino’s motorbike and dragged by the hair to the guy who’d been left in charge while Daddy Val was out of town. Your punishment was to be death. Your executioner?

Jackie Welles.

A final test, they’d said as they handed him the gun and told him to take you out back, to see if he was really Valentino material.

You remembered the look in his eyes as you stared up at him, his barrel pressed to your forehead and tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for mercy. He’d looked so hesitant, so tentative to tighten his finger around the trigger and finish the job. You saw yourself reflected in his gaze; just some kid trying to make it by in the city, doing things that would stain your hands so irrevocably you wouldn’t recognize them when you looked down.

Jackie had not painted himself with your blood that day. Instead, he’d hauled you to your feet and raced with you away from that back alley, away from the Valentinos, away from the fate the universe had set for you both.

You had been inseparable ever since. First there came the friendship, the inside jokes shared over food copped from his mother’s kitchen and singing along to the radio while you helped him in his garage. Then came the something more, slowly at first, then unstoppable. The lingering touches while patching up after street fights, that first kiss shared on the roof, the feeling of his body on top of yours and your legs locked around his hips and the moans and cries and gasps swallowed up by the other.

You suddenly felt like a stupid little kid, frightened and wanting to run to him. You were V, for god’s sake, one of the most infamous mercenaries in Night City, but goddamnit, you wanted your boyfriend to hold you close and tell you that you were safe.

Fuck, you were pathetic.

You were sure if the Maelstrom had blocked your communication devices, they must have also found a way to disrupt the tracker in your head that only Jackie and Viktor had access to. You had no way of calling them, letting them know you needed them, crying out for help.

Your man wasn’t coming to save you.

No one was coming to save you.

Just like you insisted on doing this job alone, you would die alone.

It couldn’t have been earlier than five in the morning or so when the Maelstrom goon you’d spoken to before shoved your head against the tub to wake you.

“Wakey wakey, sunshine,” he said in that glitchy, fucked up voice of his. “Time for your field trip.”

You suppressed a groan as he unlocked your wrists from the tub faucet and you slumped down, your arms screaming in relief. You’d lost feeling in them maybe a few hours ago, after they’d been numb and tingly for too long before that to really know. But it was all too short-lived. The goon hauled you out of the tub and through the wrecked apartment toward the front door. There, another freak waited with a bandana wrapped in his hand.

“Get that shit away from me,” you said and squirmed when he began to pull it around your head. The first goon connected his fist with your neck, which had you reeling long enough for the blindfold to be tied snug over your eyes, and another to be tied over your mouth. Your teeth bit into the dirty fabric and a flood of disgusting tastes shot onto your tongue. You tried your best not to gag and puke then and there.

A hand grabbed the back of your head and brought you close to another face. Even through the flavorful rag in your mouth, you could still smell the rotten meat on his breath.

“Listen up and listen close, doll face,” he said against your ear. We’re goin’ to walk outside and you’re goin’ to sit tight and silent while we work this deal. No yellin’, no runnin’, no bullshit. You copy?”

You swallowed thick, then nodded.

“Good. Let’s move.”

Behind the blindfold you saw the faint flash of daylight as the front door opened and you were marched outside. The warm, salty air of Pacifica hit you like an obligated embrace. The smell made your nostrils twitch. Fuck, you missed the smell of the apartment you shared with Jackie, of the noodle bar outside the complex and the leather of his bike.

The Maelstrom goons were soon joined by a number of others, as told by their mumbled greetings and the footfalls that surrounded you. You walked for what seemed an eternity, tripping over concrete jutting up and overturned crates lying in your path only to be yanked up by your collar when you stumbled. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were actually walking you into the obstacles in your way.

After what could have been either ten minutes or fifty, you were yanked to a halt. If you listened close, you could hear the sound of the waves and a nearby highway. You were by the beach.

Your attention was pulled to somewhere in front of you when heavy, almost ground-shaking footfalls approached. You felt the grip on your collar tighten slightly.

“This is her?” asked a man in that heavy Jamaican accent the Voodoo Boys spoke in.

“Yeah, this is the one,” replied a Maelstrom somewhere to your right. “Scanned for facial recognition and everything. It’s her.”

Footsteps came closer. You were forced to take a step back when the goon holding you cowered slightly.

The Voodoo man said, much closer now, “You give her here.”

“Not until we see the eddies. Pop ‘em into my account, and then we’ll hand the chick over.”

There came a long, stifling few moments of quiet as you assumed the eddies were transferred between accounts. It was agonizing. You didn’t exactly like the Maelstrom, but you knew that compared to the Voodoo Boys, they’d been treating you like royalty. You felt yourself sweating, your palms growing sticky, and tried to come up with any kind of plan. There were way too many of them to make a run for it - plus, you were cuffed and blinded. It would be like shooting an eyeless street rat.

Your heart nearly exploded from your chest when a large, beefy hand wrapped around your upper arm. “Money is yours now,” said the Voodoo man as he gripped you right. “And girl is ours.”

The Maelstrom had just let go of your collar when, from somewhere to your left, there came a familiar holler. “You all are gon’na wish you’d never fuckin’ gotten out of bed today, hijos de perra.”

You jerked in your captor’s grip.

Jackie.

You heard the sounds of guns being raised and safeties being flipped off, but the gunfire reached them first before they’d even thought to pull their triggers. Blood spattered across your face and you ducked for cover beside what you felt to be a van, bringing your aching, screaming arms up over your head. Your nerves were all alight with panic, never sure whether the bullets spraying the tarmac nearby were from your captors or your savior. All about you, Maelstroms and Voodoos shouted and yelled, scrambling for some kind of order or direction. A grenade exploded close enough that you felt the heat through your clothes, and it drove you to your stomach and underneath the van. The smell of gasoline and concrete enveloped you, but you preferred it to the reek of blood and lead.

You didn’t bother removing your blindfold, because you knew that even if you did, you’d still be squeezing your eyes shut. Suddenly you were back to that moment all those years ago, on your knees over a dying young man trying to staunch the bleeding assure him everything would be fine.

And in this moment, you didn’t care that it might have made you weak or pathetic or small, but you were afraid. You wanted someone to tell you it would be alright, that you were going to be fine.

After what seemed an entire lifetime, the firefight fell to a now-deafening silence. You listened to distant footsteps against the ground, praying with everything you had in you that you would recognize them, that they belonged to the man you loved. A moment later, a string of Spanish curses rang out across the bloodied battleground.

“Hijos de puta! Eso es lo que obtienes cuando jodes con mi chica. Ardeos en el infierno, todos vosotros!”

“Welles,” said another man. “We even now?”

“Yeah, yeah, hombre, scram out’ta here. We’re even.”

Still beneath the van, you listened to the sound of cad doors slamming shut and tires screeching as vehicles peeled away from the scene. They were wise to book it so soon after the fight; NCPD would be swarming the place in a while, especially being so close to the highway. Had you been your real, sensible self, you would have crawled out, grabbed Jackie, and high tailed it. But you were too enveloped in the smell of gasoline and the feeling of blood that was not your own slowly drying on one side of your face.

“V?” called Jackie from somewhere nearby. His boots crunched against shattered glass. When he spoke again, his voice was more strained than it had been before. Fear danced on his tongue. “V!”

You finally forced yourself to reach up and tug the gag from your mouth. “Here,” you called in a shaky voice. “I’m here.”

Not even a moment later, hands were guiding you out from under the van and onto your own wobbly feet. The blindfold was gingerly pull over your head, and you winced as brightness like the second coming of Christ took over your world. Jackie gripped your shoulders so hard they ached, staring down at you with an intensity you knew would melt your soul if you met his eyes. So instead, you kept your gaze stuck on the chains around his neck, ashamed and frightened and so incredibly exhausted.

A long, long moment later, he exhaled a heavy sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of an entire world on it. “Come on, chica,” he said, placed a hand on the small of your back, and began to lead you toward his car where it had been parked on the empty side of the lot where the deal was supposed to take place. “Let’s get you out’ta here.”

The ride back to Little China was one of the worst you’d ever had; hell, you preferred being unconscious in the trunk of the Maelstroms’ van than this. At least then you hadn’t had to face the silent, seething wrath of your boyfriend.

Jackie said nothing as he drove, only kept one hand on the wheel of the car and the other on the stick shift between the two of you. His expression had darkened into one of fury, but it was the quiet kind, where his lowered brow and his slightly lifted jowl spoke for him. His shoulders had locked into a tense square and the grip he had on the front wheel had paled his knuckles.

You wished he would do something. You wished he would yell at you, scream and swear, tell you that you were an idiot for going after that shipment when he’d specifically told you not to. You wished he’d pull the car over and make you walk home. Fuck, a tiny part of you wished he would hit you.

But you knew he wouldn’t. Jackie Welles would never hurt a soul in his life that didn’t deserve it - not ever. In all the years you’d known him, he had never once raised a hand toward you, made you even think he would in his rare moments of anger and fury. Sometimes he yelled, sure. You’d once even seen him hurl a glass against the far wall. But he had always apologized for raising his voice. He’d apologized, and cleaned up the glass, and lie his head in your lap as you told him it was alright.

No, you knew he would never hurt you, even if his mind was gone and all that was left was a walking piece of muscle and chrome.

So you both sat in the poisoned silence, uttering not a word.

He took you to Vik’s place first. There, he stood with crossed arms and a stance that would have sent fucking Arasaka himself running while your ripper popped your nose back into place, repaired your chrome, overrode the bug the Maelstrom had installed in your head.

Then he took you home.

Jackie told you to undress once you arrived at your apartment with a single command that punctured a fresh hole in your lungs. “Strip,” he said, dropped his gun belt in your shared weapons vault, then disappeared into the bathroom.

You were not one to disobey in this state.

He helped you bathe, even took a rag and gently wiped away the blood that had spattered across your face, trickled down your nose and across your lips and chin. He extended your arms under the water to inspect bruises. He washed and cleaned scrapes. When you were finished, he brought you a fresh pair of night clothes, then helped you limp up and into bed.

You sat on the edge of the mattress, watching as he muttered quietly to himself in his mother tongue and stripped off his tank top. The muscles in his back flexed beneath his bronze, sun-kissed skin, but the sight didn’t invoke the same feeling it would have yesterday. Instead, all you felt was shame, and anger, and most of all, helpless.

When he kicked off his boots, still mumbling under his breath, you finally punctured the thick tension hanging over you.

“Will you please talk to me, Jack?” you said, gripping the comforter beneath yourself. “Please, say anything.”

“Oh, mujer,” he barked from across the room as he shook his head and faced away from you. “You don’t want me to talk to you right now. I ain’t got any words you’ll like.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes at him. “Hit me with ‘em,” you snapped in his direction. “I’m not some fucking kid, Jack. I can handle you telling me what a fuck-up I am, or that I need a babysitter or some shit.”

“You wan’na play this game with me, V?” Jackie stood from where he had been bending over to grab his boots and throw them in the corner, drawing himself to his full height that threatened to challenge the doorway behind him. “Fine. I was gon’na tell you that you ain’t got your fuckin’ head screwed on right, but it seems like maybe you know that already.”

“What made you just now notice?” you snipped, your voice dripping with an acid you hardly ever took up with him.

“I don’t know, maybe it was when you go and get yourself nabbed by the fuckin’ Maelstrom and I got’ta call in favors I’ve been savin’ to get your ass, because Dios forbid you get yourself into a situation that requires one goddamn gun to fix.”

You sniffed defensively and looked away, attempting to push down the lump that was forming in your throat. You hated when you fought with him. You hated it when you suddenly felt more alone than you ever had because the one person you would move heaven and hell for was looking at you with a disdain that tore into your heart. “Good to know you lost a few precious fuckin’ favors to come and get me.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You couldn’t take it any more, couldn’t take the way his eyes flashed and his teeth bared the way they did when he was angry enough to become part animal like this. Pressing a hand over your mouth to keep him from seeing your bottom lip quiver, you lay down in the bed and rolled over so that your back faced him. Your chest constricted and your throat squeezed as you tried to silence the cry that was crawling up your throat. You only half-succeeded. A small squeak escaped your mouth and a shudder racked your body.

You shut your eyes tight to the rest of the world, instead focusing inwards. The injuries on your face throbbed as you continued to pull a painful expression against your cries. Your rib wailed in agony. But most of all, your heart ached more terribly than you really ever recalled it doing.

Why hadn’t you listened to Jackie? Why hadn’t you put your damn ego aside for once in your fucking life and listened to someone else’s advice? You’d done it again; you had fucked around and found out the price of doing so came from your own pockets. Now you were dirt broke and still too proud to beg.

You pulled in a shuddering gasp and clutched at the pillow beneath your head. “I’m sorry,” you said, just loud enough so that he would hear you. “You were right. I shouldn’t have fucking gone. I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”

For a long moment, the apartment was empty. You began to think that Jackie had left and you’d been too washed up in your own world to even notice. But then the floor creaked in that spot it did near the center of the apartment, and a moment later the bed dipped behind you.

“Aye. Come here, chica. Let me look at that pretty face.” Jackie wrapped his arms around you and, with a flex of the muscles in his biceps, hauled you up and over so that you were lying cradled against his bare front. Gone was his vicious, animalistic expression he’d worn just a few minutes ago, now replaced with that gentle look reserved for late nights and early mornings. He exhaled tiredly and used the callused pad of his thumb to wipe away the tear that had been trailing down your nose.

For a moment or two, neither of you said a thing. This kind of silence was different than the one that held the car captive. This was soft and peaceful, not at all laden with the kind of anger and hurt as before.

“I’m sorry for yelling, amor,” he said, his voice a soft husk. “I just…” He sighed again and shut his eyes before touching his forehead to yours. His nose nestled against your own. “I got freaked. Real scared. Like, out’ta my mind kind’a shit. I didn’t know where you were. Hell, had to scour that damn port to find one of those cyber freaks and make him tell me where you were.” There came another short pause. “We got dangerous lives, V. Things happen in this kind of work. But if somethin’ ever happened to you… I ain’t so sure I would be here in this world after you left it.”

A new, fresh wave of tears muddled your vision as you gently nudged his nose with yours. “I’m right here, Jack.” Despite the aching in your chest, you forced a tiny smile onto your lips. “You’re still stuck with me.”

Jackie let out a small, breathy chuckle that fanned across your face. “Guess I am, querida.”

Using what strength you had left in your bruised and battered body, you craned your neck up and gently, ever so softly, pressed your lips to his. His brow relaxed as you kissed him, his mouth at once moving against your own. You’d had years to practice this, get it right; and it was so, so right.

Jackie’s tongue gingerly swiped over yours, silently asking permission to be let in. You granted it through the smile trying to flood across your features. He always asked and asked and asked, even if he knew the answer would always be yes. It made your heart flutter and your belly flip. You opened your mouth to him and he shifted you closer so that his tongue could lay claim once more to your own, your swelling lips, your very senses.

The Maelstrom and the Voodoo Boys had been fucking idiots to think they could keep you, could own you.

You already belonged to Jackie fucking Welles; and he made sure everyone knew what was his.

As the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate to connect the two of you together again, your core began to ignite to life. When one of his hands settled on the upper plane of your thigh, you released a soft sigh and felt yourself begin to ache with need.

And you told him so.

“Jackie,” you breathed into his mouth, your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. His ink played like magic beneath your fingers. “I need you. Please. Make me fucking forget they even touched me.”

In response, he captured your lips again, this time more feverish and starving-like. One large, labor-scarred hand kept you up and pressed against him while the other began to glide up over your sleep shorts and toward the waistband. You felt your cunt clench with the promise of what was rapidly approaching.

“Oh, my chica,” he whispered. “I’m gon’na make you forget your own damn name.”

His hand found its way inside your shorts through the waistband, long and thick fingers finding their home at the warm apex of your thighs. You released a small moan when his digits slowly inserted themselves between your legs, expertly sliding over your folds and back up again.

“Already wet for me, chica bonita?” he purred against the shell of your ear. His pointer finger slid between your slick folds, edging along the spot where knew your clit was begging for attention, before he swept it back down toward your entrance. “I barely even started to touch you.”

Words had left your vocabulary entirely, vanished into the dawn as the tip of his finger finally found your clit and began to rub slow, gentle circles around it. A shockwave of pleasure rolled through you like thunder, drawing a whimper from the back of your throat. You pressed your face deeper into your special spot on his shoulder, open-mouthed and already following his hand with your hips.

Jackie shushed you as he continued to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, planting kisses to your forehead and the surface of your temple. His fingers left your clit to travel down your center toward your entrance, where you could feel your arousal already leaking onto your thighs. He gathered some of it with his index finger, then teasingly began to dance around your needy pussy.

You moaned unabashedly, gripping his bicep as your hips bucked. “Fuck, Jackie,” you whined against his pec. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not today.”

“Heh. Sometimes I can’t help myself, especially with this pretty pussy that’s all mine.” Without much warning other than that, he slipped his finger into your cunt until he was sunken in to his top knuckle. A broken, gasping cry was wailed into his skin. He chuckled to himself and continued to kiss your head before slowly pulling his finger out and pushing it back in.

Christ above, you’d never get tired of this feeling. You swore you felt each and every callus, every tiny little line that made up his fingerprint, made him who he was. His finger stroked your walls so perfectly it was hard to believe your cunt wasn’t made for him specifically. Maybe it was. Maybe you were built for him, and him for you, because god almighty, was this a fucking match made in heaven.

Jackie slowly added a second finger to your hole, his palm brushing against your clit every time his hand brushed against your naval. “My poor pretty baby,” he cooed in a low, husky voice that made you clench around his fingers. “Can’t leave her alone for five minutes, can I?”

You’d die happy if you never left his sight again. Why on earth would you want to, when he was fucking you so good with just his fingers? Every nerve ending within you was alight with a heavy, shocking pleasure that felt like you were being electrocuted. You’d happily let him do just that; stick live wires to your skin, just as long as he was fucking you at the same time.

Your hips were bucking up into his hand now, your back arching in his lap and your nails leaving angry red indents in his shoulder. “Ah! God, Jackie, holy shit. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Slowly, you were beginning to feel that wonderful, familiar coil tightening inside of you. It was a wound-up spring only he could wind like this, in the way you would have gone mad without after knowing it for the first time. Your bucks became more frantic, your arousal sliding down your thighs and soaking your sleep shorts.

“Jackie! Jackie, oh fuck, I’m -“

His fingers slipped out of you completely. You actually let out a half-scream of frustration and alarm, your eyes flying open from their dazed state. He peered down at you with lust-blown pupils and an expression you could not place in the heat of the moment. Was he mad? So overtaken by the hard on pressing against your shoulder blades he himself was becoming lost to the world?

You got your answer when he leaned down close to your face, his lips just barely brushing yours when he spoke. “You know I love you too fuckin’ much to lose you, bebe,” he drawled. When your hips thrusted upward, searching for his hand, he grabbed your hip in a bruising grip. “Promise me you’ll never pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll let you cum.”

Oh, he was an animal. A sick one at that. But - weren’t you, as well?

“I promise,” you practically cried against him, your knuckles pale from how hard they gripped his shoulder. “I promise, Jackie, I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“I promise I’ll listen to you,” you babbled as tears of frustration formed in the corners of your eyes. “I promise I’ll never leave you again. I’m yours, Jackie. I belong to you.”

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound came out when he plunged his fingers back into your cunt and set a brutal, bruising pace. You went limp in his arms and he held you upright with one hand as he thrusted his digits in and out of your sopping pussy. That coil in your stomach wound, weeping joyfully to have been stretched more, and you came with a garbled cry of his name. He slowly withdrew his fingers and you felt your release slowly dripping from your abused entrance.

Jackie made sure you were looking at him when he brought your slick to his mouth and sucked it off his fingers.

If you thought you were tired before he had finger fucked you raw, you knew that space between sleep and consciousness now. Your eyelids threatened to shut for good as you tilted your head against your man’s shoulder and exhaled a shaky breath.

“I’ll be holding you to those promises,” Jackie said, then placed a sweet, gentle kiss at the space between your brows. “Rest, dulzura. I’ve got you.” He nestled his chin onto the top of your head and held you just a bit tighter. “Ain’t no one takin’ you from me again.”

translations:

carino - sweetheart

hijos de perra - sons of bitches

Hijos de puta! Eso es lo que obtienes cuando jodes con mi chica. Ardeos en el infierno, todos vosotros! - Motherfuckers! That’s what you get when you fuck with my girl. Burn in hell, all of you!

hombre - man

mujer - woman

Dios - God

chica - girl

amor - love

querida - dear

chica bonita - pretty girl

bebe - baby

dulzura - sweetness

[pearlparty]

Distraction

Note to self: never ask for a spot ever again.  Just die like a woman when you drop the bar. 

Pairing: Austin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: Austin teases you at the gym and you get distracted from your workout.

Warnings: Language, innuendo, flirting, established relationship

Word Count: 2075 ish

Note: Breaking another impromptu indefinite hiatus to post lol. Based on this post/reblog to cure writer’s block. Lol I wrote this in like a day and a half and in an airport so take that for what you will. I just really like men sweating and grunting I’m sorry. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, so please tell me what sucks about this so I can improve!!

Austin had always gone to the gym with you. You’d go together, but usually stayed in your own lanes doing your own workouts, and then leave together.  The routine allowed some space to breathe and work individually—do things separately together. It happened organically for one reason: different desired routines. And that’s how it stayed for weeks, leaving each of you satisfied at the end of the hour and a half.

Today provided another reason for why separate workout routines proved more effective than working together. 

You’d walked in with the intention of setting a personal record on the squat rack.  You’d been working your way up for weeks.  Maybe you truly felt prepared to lift it, or perhaps it was the extra zing that the pre-workout put in your step, but either way you stepped up to the rack prepared to put your legs to the test.  The cute dark blue crop and legging combo probably gave you an extra boost, too. It did make your ass look good, after all, and that little “I’m sexy and I know it” boost worked like magic for motivation. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t see the way Austin’s eyes lingered a little too long when you put your jacket and bag into the locker. Maybe if you’d seen his eyes darken, you’d have caught onto his little game instead of being taken by surprise. 

Still, before you parted ways at the locker, you couldn’t help but admire the curves of his bare shoulders beneath his muscle tee. Such fond memories of those shoulders and the weights they occasionally carried: your niece when you went to the park weeks ago, the heavy cement bag for your parents’ backyard, your thighs—

You shook the thought from your head, and moved to the track to warm up. You’d moved closer to the weight section to do some warm up Bulgarian Split Squats when Austin called you over to his spot at one of the benches. 

“Babe,” he called out, “can I get a spot real quick?” The question fazed you a moment; he rarely asked for a spot, but you supposed that the empty gym deprived him of many other options. 

“Yeah,” you chirped as you rose from the mat. “Yeah, sure.” 

Austin positioned himself on the bench and prepped for his heavy set. You couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin, the determination etched on his face as he focused on the task at hand. The veins in his hands and forearms seemed to pulse as he gripped the bar, and a small part of you wished they were wrapped around your neck—

"Ready, babe?" His voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you quickly positioned herself at the end of the bench, ready to spot him. You cleared your throat. 

"Ready," you replied as you braced yourself for the weight that was about to come crashing down. He grinned but didn’t say anything. 

As Austin began his set, your eyes were drawn to the flex of his muscles, the strain evident in every movement. You couldn't tear your gaze away, mesmerized by the raw power and intensity he exuded with each repetition.

With each huff and grunt that escaped Austin’s lips, you felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You tried to focus on the task at hand, on keeping him safe as he pushed himself to his limits, but you couldn't shake the feeling of arousal that pulsed through your veins.

As Austin finished his set and racked the bar, he flashed you a grin, his chest heaving with exertion. He rose from the bench breathing heavy, sweat dotting his brow. 

“Thank you, baby,” he murmured with a breath, voice low and husky as he gently pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, mind filled with images of his sweaty body entwined in passion with yours. You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume your mind you helped Austin re-rack the weights.

"Anytime," you replied, voice barely convincing nonchalance as you tried to quell the desire that burned within your chest—a desire slowly spreading throughout your extremities and to your lower belly. "Anytime." 

Walking back to your mat, your mind swirled with overwhelming amounts of filthy thoughts, and the reps got increasingly hard to count (which ended up being fine because working to failure is good for growth, but still). Those damn grunts? Every huff and breath of exertion? The small whimper that escaped his lips when he struggled momentarily to get the bar up on the last rep? All played on a continuous, horny loop in your head as you spent the next few minutes finishing the exercises before your squats. 

His damn blue muscle tee, his damn cap that couldn’t cover his pretty curls at the back of his head, his damn gray joggers, his damn water dripping down his chin as he chugged from his water bottle after a couple of sets on the lat pulldown machine that made his damn muscles flex and sweat collect on his damn collarbones. Damn him damn him damn him.  

A trip the the gym had supposed to clear your mind, not fill it with insufferable horny thoughts. How were you supposed to focus on the movements properly when he walked around looking like that?

And now you needed him to spot you during your squats. Lovely.

His gaze wandered to you in the mirror as he took another gulp of water. You waved him over.

He adjusted his earbuds and wiped his chin with the collar of his shirt as he approached you. “Hey, gorgeous. Need a spot?” Was his voice always so deep? I must be ovulating because this is not normal.  

“If you’re not busy? I wanna beat my record from a couple weeks ago,” you answered. 

“New PR, baby!” he whooped, clapping his hands together once to try to hype you up.  He likely mistook your distraction for nerves. Hell, you wished it was, not an aching need that pulled your attention away from your workout.

A nervous laugh left your chest, suddenly rather timid at the prospect of him being so close while you were trying to lift something seriously heavy.  You turned to face the mirror behind the rack—turn away from him directly but still see him behind you in the reflection.  Had you seriously never appreciated how he dwarfed you before?

Okay, enough, focus on the damn lift you horny simpleton, the sane part of your mind berated.  You pushed the thoughts aside and stepped under the bar.

“Ready?”  you tossed over your shoulder to him as he stood a few feet back.  

“You got this,” he affirmed.  You took a breath and lifted the bar off the rack and stepped back.  Austin put a close but reasonable distance between the two of you and looped his arms under yours, prepared to pull you back if you were to fall forward.  

Another breath, and then you went down.  Austin followed your movements and you let out a puff of air as you tried to push yourself back to the top.  

“C’mon, you got it,” he gently coaxed from behind you.  It wasn’t the typical motivating voice he used in the gym.  No, it was much softer, teetering on the edge of something—well, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out or you’d surely drop the bar and hurt both you and him.  If you hadn’t been balancing over 200lbs on your shoulders, you might have shot him a wide eyed look.  You came to the top of the position.  “Alright, that’s one.  Just seven more.”  His voice seemed to have some extra smoke in it today.  

A flush of warmth spread through your torso, tingling in your extremities that had no connection to the exertion of the second rep. His words lit a fire, spurring you on as you sank into the third. 

“Doin’ so good,” Austin murmured, his hot breath fanning down your neck. “Just like that.” 

Fuck off fuck off fuck off you hot bastard. He was doing it on purpose. Whether it was to get a rise out of you or provide some extra motivation, you didn’t know.

Down.  Up. Four. Focus. Five.

“You’re killing it. Just focus on that form.” You could have sworn his hand brushed the side of your waist. 

Six. A breath. Seven. The burn in your quads nearly made you question whether you could do another rep. You hissed out a sharp breath and braced yourself, legs wavering at the top of the rep for only a second. 

“Nearly there,” Austin continued, the same salacious insinuation lining his words. “Can ya gimme one more, baby?” 

A thrill shot down your spine, and your breath caught in your throat.  Damn him.

You finished the set, legs trembling slightly as you stepped back to re-rack the bar with a huff. You set your hands on your hips to suck in a well deserved breath. A stupid smile graced your lips as you realized that you’d accomplished your goal despite Austin’s distracting encouragement.  The burn in your legs slowly turned to a sweet jelly-like sensation. 

Austin approached the rack, going around to meet you toward the front, a smirk lining his perfect lips. “Feeling good?”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his double-entendre. “Yeah,” you snorted, as you stepped around to meet him. “Feelin’ grea—“ You stumbled, the jelly in your legs making your knees fold momentarily. 

Right into his strong arms. 

“Woah, now,” he chuckled, pulling you back up with his hands firmly on your back and ribs. “Careful there, Bambi.” That time, you did roll your eyes with a laugh as you steadied yourself once more, but not pulling away from him yet. “Don't hurt yourself.” 

“Oh please,” you flicked the brim of his hat, “I’m canceling my membership; you are too damn distracting.” You giggled as you pushed him away to walk to the equipment spray, throwing a little extra sway in your hips as you strutted away. The jig was up; no sense in trying to focus on something when it would all be for naught. You wanted to play this out. 

“Is that right?” He cocked an eyebrow, that permanent smirk etched onto his face. “So you didn’t like my extra motivation, hm?” He gripped the brim of his cap and flipped it around, giving you a more than adequate view of his triceps and biceps as he pressed it down in the back. You sucked in a breath. He knew how much you liked it when he put his hat on backwards.

“I blame the endorphins. I’m taking my business elsewhere so I can actually focus,” you quipped. You stepped to the rack, deliberately putting it between you and him as you sprayed down the bar.

“Hm. That’s fair, I guess.” He moved in closer, placing his hands on either side of the rack and leaning over the bar, his voice low and suggestive, “Guess we’ll just have to find other ways to work out together then.”

You cocked an eyebrow, allowing yourself a moment to shamelessly look him up and down as the tip of your tongue wet your bottom lip before you pulled it between your teeth. Your delicate fingers curled around the bar as you rested your chin on it. The smell of his sweat mixed with his cologne and nearly made your knees weak again. You tapped your right toe behind your left heel, enjoying his proximity and the innuendo in the air.

You hummed as the tension crackled between the two of you. “Whatayasay we cut this strength session short and go home for some cardio?”

His eyebrows raised and he chewed the inside of his cheek, glancing dangerously down to your lips. A low hum resonated in his chest. “I like the sound of that.” 

He shortened the distance between you, tantalizing movements to tempt you closer to his lips. And then, “Meet ya by the treadmills, baby,” he teased with a wink and then pulled away. 

—

And that’s how you figured out that if you worked out with Austin, you’d end up horny and skip the workout for another sweaty activity.

tag: @mrsniallhoran505

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 22

read on ao3 (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 7.3k

no context spoiler for this chapter: pride and prejudice mr. darcy hand flex scene ;)

Chapter 22: 'Running Up That Hill'

Juliet's POV:

Juliet ran her finger over the map, tracing the colourful lines on the crinkled paper. The low autumn sun filtered in through the truck windows, tossing golden light onto her trembling hands. Juliet hadn’t stopped shaking since she awoke in the woods two days prior, when she finally regained some sort of lucidity. Luckily, the vibrations from the truck masked the tremble as her whole body shook with the speed of the vehicle. Joel’s driving was always an experience.  

They followed a series of bold blue lines to Cody. Joel was adamant that they would find his brother there. Juliet wasn’t so sure. She didn’t much believe in hope anymore. 

As they continued down the never ending highway, the surrounding trees began to lessen and, having lost their shadows, the sun started to blind Juliet. She squinted her eyes against the rays and her trembling fingers rose to reach for the sun visor. But as she leaned forward, the muscles in her stomach stretched and her body screamed in pain with the brutal reminder of her burn. Juliet groaned low and her arm instantly returned to her side. Sweat broke out across her forehead as she inhaled deep breaths, attempting to slow her heart rate. 

Days had passed but the pain showed no sign of lessening and Juliet was sick of playing the weakling. It was an effort not to make any more noise as pain continued to ripple through her, so she sucked in a silent breath through gritted teeth and waited for the fire in her stomach to dwindle. 

One shallow breath later and a hand, still stained with the memory of blood, reached over from its resting position on the wheel and pulled down her visor. Juliet blinked as the sun was shielded from her vision and her eyes cut to the man the hand belonged to. Joel’s stare was unreadable and his eyes dropped to her stomach before returning to her shocked face. “Careful” he murmured, before his gaze latched onto the road again.

Juliet blinked slowly, still shaken by his momentary close proximity. Somehow, no matter how long they went without a shower, Joel always managed to keep his musky scent of pine and smoke. Juliet wanted to bathe in it, let the smell entirely surround her. It reminded her of working in the QZ, side by side with Joel. It reminded her of nights spent sleeping in Bill’s truck or tucked in sleeping bags under the stars. It reminded her of that night in the dark house, her hands still soaked with his blood as she felt the scruff of his jaw scratch against her skin.  

Juliet’s hand involuntarily tensed, crinkling the map with her clenched fingers. She began to build that brick wall in her mind again, closing that memory in, desperate to keep it tucked away. Joel had killed her father. He was right, though, he had to do it, her father had to die. But how could she know that and still react the way she did to the memory of his lips on hers? She was sick, deranged even. 

Joel was wrong for her. He was too old, too angry, too mean. And yet Juliet was unable to breathe around him; when he brushed against her or held her aching body under the stars. She blinked away that memory too. 

Juliet shook her head, desperate to focus on the map in front of her. Joel was relying on her for directions, just as he had throughout their whole journey together. Ethan had attempted to sit shotgun that morning, going so far as to open the door and take the seat. Joel wasn’t having it, though. He had claimed that Ethan couldn’t read a map “for shit” and was determined that Juliet take the seat beside him. 

They had argued for a while, until Joel became almost frighteningly silent and Ethan got in the back with a few choice curse words under his breath. Juliet hadn’t realised he’d known those words. 

Now, Ethan sat with his arms crossed and his eyes latched firmly on the back of Joel’s head. Juliet snuck a peak behind her, the best she could in her pained state, and Ethan quickly met her eyes with a small smile. She tried to return the gesture but her mouth curved into more of a grimace. Juliet knew that Ethan wasn’t happy with her, that he didn’t like Joel and didn’t want to be stuck in this truck with him. But he had stayed, for her…

Juliet’s chest tightened as her debt to him increased. 

They would reach Cody within the next couple hours. Joel was worried about the dark so the plan was to find somewhere to lay low for the night before they began to scope out the town in the morning. Juliet could feel Joel’s anxiety. Somehow, his broad shoulders grew tighter as they closed in on the last place his brother had contacted him from. His regular tapping on the wheel increased at a rapid speed, Juliet didn’t think he was even aware of it.

She was desperate to reach over and enclose her hand over his. 

As Joel shifted gears and increased his speed, Juliet allowed her mind to wander. She allowed herself to think about comforting him the way he had comforted her. How would he react to her touch? Would Joel welcome her attention? Or brush her off? 

There were so many lines they walked: between smuggler and cargo, friend and acquaintance, accomplice and opponent. Juliet was afraid to bridge the gap, the guilt that lived inside her raged with every thought of Joel’s touch. Ethan was in the backseat, Ethan had saved her, he had suffered for years because of her. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t even visualise Joel returning her feelings. Juliet didn’t even know what those feelings were, but more and more she was struggling to deny that they existed.

…………………………………………………

When they reached Cody, they all sat up a bit straighter. The light was fading fast, but Juliet’s breath caught at the mountains towering over the town. They made her feel small, made everything seem small. The silence was heavy between them and Joel began to tense. Juliet didn’t dare look at his face, she couldn’t bear to see that scrunch of his eyebrows which hinted at danger ahead. They had been through too much, and everything inside her mind was still so blurry. Juliet couldn’t handle another trauma - she could barely remember the last one. 

Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearm on the back of Juliet’s seat and pushing the front of his body into the space between Joel and Juliet. Juliet shifted closer to the door to make room for his presence. 

“See any demons?” he whispered as the truck slowly moved down the city street.

Joel’s eyes cut to Ethan, a question printed on his face.

“He means the infected,” Juliet murmured as she continued staring straight ahead. Their community didn’t know much about the current blight of the world. Her father had always called them ‘demons’ but never went into detail. Juliet remembered the first time she saw an infected person, stumbling around in a carpark with Blake by her side. She remembered the sound of his gunshot in her ears when it fell to the ground.

Joel didn’t respond, he just tensed his hand on the wheel. Juliet could tell he was entirely focused on their surroundings, scanning every shop window, every corner of every darkening street they passed.

“Looks clear to me,” Ethan announced in a hard voice following the heavy silence, tilting his head towards Juliet. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was scanning the roads like Joel, holding her breath with every passing second. It was almost too quiet in Cody, surely they would have seen at least one infected stumbling around somewhere. Juliet began to curl her fingers into fists, ignoring the pain from her tender palms. 

If Tommy wasn’t here, if there was nowhere for them to go… Juliet didn’t know if there was enough room in her soul to house another blow.

Joel slowed the truck to a stop on what looked like a mainstreet. They said nothing for a moment, still waiting, still listening for danger. Sometimes, in the silence, there lay the deadliest of threats.  

“We’ll get out,” Joel began his command, before cutting his eyes to Ethan, “Quietly ” he insisted with raised eyebrows. Juliet watched as Ethan rolled his eyes and sank backwards into the back of the truck. 

“We don’t know what’s out there, but we gotta find somewhere to stay for the night,” Joel continued. Juliet nodded in response, used to this routine. She felt renewed by this small sense of purpose, this small comfort of familiarity. 

For his next instruction, Joel turned in his seat, facing Ethan. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid” he ground out in a low, dark voice, as his eyes narrowed. Juliet attempted to swallow down the tension which lay thick in the air. 

After a long moment, Ethan muttered out an agreement then bent forward and began to rifle through his backpack, before pulling out a handgun and making sure it was loaded. They must have cleared out the armoury before leaving the community, because Juliet and Joel had one too, along with two shotguns in the back. 

Before she could attempt to lean forward, and aggravate the burn on her stomach, her backpack landed on her lap. Joel leaned over the gear stick, his scent of pine and smoke washing over her, as he began to search through her bag, finding her gun and ammo and depositing them into Juliet’s awaiting hands. When he was done, he moved to his own backpack and did the same. 

Tears threatened to fill Juliet’s eyes. The silent gesture from Joel flooded her body with a comforting warmth. Juliet didn’t say thank you, she knew Joel wouldn’t want her to. She just loaded her gun and blinked away her glossy eyes, quietly steeling herself for what the night would bring. 

……………………………

They exited the truck as the sky darkened into a vibrant shade of navy blue. Juliet’s legs were stiff and her body felt unusually heavy, her limbs trembled with the chill in the air. The weather had changed rapidly in the last few days, autumn was now truly upon them and Juliet wished for a warmer wardrobe. Joel had found her a new shirt, to replace the one they had to cut open, but the soft flannel wasn’t enough to shield her body from the cold. 

Her backpack hung from her hand as Juliet braced herself to swing it over her shoulders, she knew the strain that would have on her stomach. So she took a couple deep breaths and listened to the quiet sounds of Ethan rounding the truck towards her, before biting her lip and begining to lift her arms. 

Her backpack had barely moved before a heavy weight landed on her shoulders with a warmth which forced a low groan to instantly release from her lips. She looked down and realised that it was a jacket… Joel’s jacket. The jacket was far too big for her, almost swallowing her down to her knees. Joel stood before her, staring down at her wide eyes and gently took the backpack from her icy hands. 

“Joel, no. I can’t take this,” she protested, trying to shrug the jacket from her shoulders.

Joel raised his free hand, silencing her.

“Take it,” he commanded, leaving no room for a returning argument.

She wanted to fight back on this, demand that Joel take his jacket back. But it was so warm and it smelled so much like him, and Juliet was so cold. So, she nodded slowly and pulled her arms through the sleeves, rolling them up so her hands could move freely. When Joel was satisfied, he lifted her bag and threaded her arms through the straps, until it hung securely from her back. 

Juliet’s cheeks were burning. She hated that she couldn’t do this for herself, that her injury retrained almost every movement she made. And she hated that Joel saw her like this, as weak and defenceless, as something he had to look after, like a child. Her father had done this to her, he had taken away her dignity and all that was left was a shell of who Juliet once was. She wasn’t a survivor anymore, she was barely a person. 

Joel’s eyes scanned her face and Juliet watched as a muscle jumped in his tight jaw. She nodded again, this time to show her gratitude. Joel just looked at her a moment longer and moved away, facing the darkening street in front of them as he sorted his own backpack.

Juliet pulled the jacket tighter around her and turned to find Ethan leaning on the side of the truck, an unreadable expression covered his face. But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the jacket now hanging loose on her shivering form. His eyebrows pinched together and he ran his free hand over his mouth, before he tugged the corners of his lips into his signature smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes, and gestured with a tilt of his head that they should get moving. 

Joel walked with his usual quick stride, his heavy steps somehow quiet on the concrete ground. Juliet held her gun steady in her hand, Ethan, who walked beside her, did the same. When Juliet looked closer at Ethan, she noticed his hands were trembling and his shoulders were tight. A sharp bolt of pity fired through her when she remembered that Ethan had no real experience with the outside world. As they walked down this empty street, the masked terror in Ethan’s eyes reminded her of the girl Blake found in the woods all those years ago. She ached to reach out, to offer some comfort, some reassurance for her friend but she needed to keep her wits about her. With every step they took, Juliet grew more and more uneasy. Surely Tommy wasn’t hiding out here? It was too open, too achingly quiet. 

Juliet knew that Joel wouldn’t want to go far from the truck so she was unsurprised when his steps slowed outside a building with minimal broken windows and somewhat undisturbed brickwork. He turned to Juliet, tossed his shotgun over his shoulder, and nodded their usual signal for her to keep watch. Her eyes instantly focused on the streets, listening intently for anything amiss as Joel began the work of finding an entry into the building. 

Ethan started to pace, holding his gun out in front of him. Even in the near complete darkness, with only the moon to light their surroundings, Juliet could see that Ethan’s eyes had taken on a glaze of wild fear. 

“Ethan,” she hissed, trying desperately to get his attention without making much noise.

Ethan’s eyes quickly cut to her but only for a second before they latched back onto the dark street. She tried again, this time moving closer to him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered urgently.

Ethan had stopped pacing. He stood eerily still as he lifted his gun higher. Panic struck Juliet with a fierce blow when she realised that he was aiming at something. 

Juliet squinted her eyes, searching through the darkness for the source of Ethan’s terror. 

Her breath caught when she spotted it. There. A figure stumbling out from behind a car. 

Juliet would recognise those jerky movements anywhere. 

An infected.

And Ethan had his gun trained on it. But he didn’t know what the infected were like. He didn't know that if saw one then there were probably hundreds somewhere else, just waiting for a sound to alert them of their presence. 

“Ethan, no ” Juliet hissed, reaching her hand towards him. 

But it was too late.

Ethan fired the shot and, of course, even in the dark, it landed on its target. Ethan was the one to teach Juliet how to shoot, after all. The infected fell to the ground without a sound, but the gunshot was deafening.

She froze, her hand still outstretched as Joel rushed up to Ethan and pried the gun from his hands.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Joel demanded, grabbing hold of Ethan’s shoulder with his free hand. Ethan turned to him, his eyes wide.

“I did it,” he gushed, attempting to shrug off Joel’s crushing grip. “I killed one of them.”

“Yeah and lit up a target on our heads. Every infected in the area is gonna follow that sound directly to us,” Joel fumed, doing his best to keep his voice low, but his rage was screaming out of him. 

Ethan recoiled, the relief gone. Joel let him tug himself free. “Shit,” Ethan cursed, running his hand through his hair. 

“We need to move,” Juliet whispered, searching Joel’s face for instructions. 

Before Joel could answer. Before any of them could move. They heard the sound Juliet dreaded with every fibre of her soul.

Gargling. Screeching. Footsteps, pounding on the concrete.

Without a second thought, Joel grabbed Juleit’s arm and pulled her towards the store. Juliet stumbled to the door, her fear weighing her down. She turned and saw, from the distance, a black mass moving at lightning speed, hitting off of abandoned cars and stumbling over each other. 

Joel was right. Ethan had led a mass of infected right to them. 

Joel pulled against the latch he had just burst open with the handle of his shotgun, pulling the door open and pushing Juliet through. She didn’t have a choice, Joel had moved so quickly she hadn't even had time to protest, to beg for Joel to help Ethan. Within seconds the door was shut and Juliet was alone in the darkness. 

She turned to the window, her heart was beating so fast she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. From the foggy glass she could see Joel and Ethan arguing before Joel grabbed hold of Ethan’s shirt and dragged him towards the door. Juliet stumbled back as they entered, Ethan ran straight into her chest, knocking the air out of her. It took everything in Juliet to not scream in pain.

“Watch it,” Joel growled at Ethan. 

Ethan had stumbled to the wall and dropped his head into his hands. His fingers were shaking.

“Quick, barricade the door,” Juliet urged, trying her best to bend towards a cabinet but Joel got there first, gently nudging her out the way and pushing the cabinet in front of the door. Juliet moved towards the window, and instantly jumped back at the horror outside the shop.

The infected had descended upon the street. Hundreds stumbling about in the dark, their heads turning at unnatural angles attempting to hear the sounds of their victims. Juliet turned around slowly, her finger glued to her lips.

Joel froze at the sight of her face and moved to the window. They both gazed out, Juliet's shoulder pressed against Joel’s bicep. The muscles in his arm were tense right down to his clenched hand against the windowsill. She could still make out the cuts on his knuckles. The evidence of what he had done for her. Juliet couldn’t let this be the end of his story, when he was so close to finding his brother. Joel deserved peace. He deserved a life without broken knuckles and blood on his hands. 

Despite her fuzzy brain and the lightheadedness that had begun to dilute her thoughts. Juliet scrambled to create a plan.

“We keep quiet, keep out of sight tonight. Then, in the morning we can plan a way out of here,” Juliet murmured, glad that Joel stood so close so she didn’t have to speak any louder and risk one of the infected hearing. In the morning light, they would be able to see a way out of this mess. 

Joel nodded and his face tilted down towards her. ‘Upstairs’ he mouthed with a jerk of his chin. 

Juliet agreed they had to get as far away from the door as possible. Tucked further into the building, they might have a chance of surviving the night. 

Ethan still stood pressed against the wall. Juliet gestured to him that they should find their way upstairs and he nodded, finally understanding the gravity of their situation and the need to stay quiet. Juliet would be lying if she said she wasn’t annoyed at this callousness. He should have known better. He should have listened to her, listened to Joel. Juliet wondered if he felt a need to prove himself by killing that infected, to prove that he could survive in this world like she had. Juliet had never known Ethan to be a jealous person, but the years changed people. She knew that more than anyone.

Despite her annoyance, she still brushed her fingers against his hand as she walked past him towards the stairs. Yet, before she could take the first step, Joel tapped her shoulder and raised his hand, asking her to wait. She paused, a question on her lips. Then she watched as Joel reluctantly handed Ethan his gun back. Ethan wrapped his hand around the handle but Joel wouldn’t let go. He held tight even as Ethan pulled against the weapon. Ethan pulled again, harder this time. But Joel held steady.

Just when Juliet was about to step in, Joel grabbed the collar of Ethan’s shirt, pulling him in close. Joel whispered in his ear, words that Juliet was unable to make out. When he was finished, Joel let go and Ethan stumbled back a couple steps, the gun now in his hands. Juliet cringed as Ethan gained his footing, worried he would make a sound by crashing into something. 

Joel turned back to her with the slightest hint of satisfaction in his tense expression. Juliet furrowed her eyebrows but allowed Joel to step around her and begin their slow, silent journey up the stairs with his gun raised in one hand and his torch now gripped in the other, lighting their way.

With each step, Joel paused, testing the stability of the steps. Juliet thought back to their time in the museum in Boston, when the entire staircase crumbled beneath them. It felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, Juliet had known exactly where her life would take her. She had a purpose. She had a reason to keep going. Now… Juliet wasn’t exactly sure why she was still putting one foot in front of the other. 

She tensed her fingers around the handle of her gun, following Joel’s footsteps as they inched their way up the stairs. Ethan was a few steps behind her, she could hear his quiet breaths. 

When Joel reached the stop, Juliet paused, waiting for him to sweep the hallway with his torch. They stayed silent, it still wasn’t safe to make a sound as more infected could be hidden upstairs. After a moment, Joel nodded down at them and Juliet stepped onto the hardwood floor. She had thought this was a store, but she was wrong. It looked more like an office building. If they could find an office at the back and barricade the door, they could stay safe until morning light where they could use the window to plot their way back to the truck. 

Juliet eased a slow breath from her lips, finally feeling the weight on her shoulders ease. Just a few more steps, sweep the upstairs, then they could rest. Juliet struggled to stand for too long, her head still ached with the force of her father’s blow, along with the bruising on her ankles. She was ashamed at how weak her father had made her. 

Joel walked forward, avoiding a couple crumbling floorboards and pointed his torch into the first room. Juliet was about to signal to Joel that they should split up, sweep the rooms individually then meet back in the hallway. But then she thought of Ethan and his trigger happy tendencies and she restrained herself with a grimace. They should stick together. 

Juliet followed Joel into the first room, surprised by the lavish furnishing. It was large, far larger than her father’s office had been. Against the far wall, sat a desk with a leather chair, and as Joel swung around the torch she realised there were two other rooms housed within this deceptively massive space. 

Realising Ethan wasn’t behind her, she turned, searching for him in the darkness. Not daring to say his name and disturb the quiet, Juliet walked back towards the door, her steps quickening with her increasing panic. Where was he? What was wrong? Was he hurt? 

Every worried thought vanished from Juliet’s head as she crashed to the floor.

With Joel’s torch pointed in the other direction, Juliet hadn’t seen the box on the ground. She hit the hard floor with a piercing cry, landing on her stomach. Juliet had to breathe through the intense pulse of nausea which attacked her. 

“Ethan!” she cried, still searching for him, even from her position on the floor. 

“Juliet!” Joel bellowed from the far corner of the room, as he ran over towards her.

As Juliet lifted her head, everything went into slow motion.

She could hear Joel’s footsteps thundering towards her, his torchlight bouncing off of the walls. And as the light hit the entryway, she noticed a black crack staining what was left of the white paint above the door. That wasn’t odd, every building was covered in cracks. 

This one, however, was growing, rapidly.

“Ethan!” she screamed, not caring anymore who could hear her. 

“I'm coming!” he yelled back, it sounded as though he was in a different room. 

“No, no, no, no,” Juliet began to murmur, louder and louder, because the crack wasn’t just a crack anymore, it was a gaping hole in the wall. And as Juliet muttered out her final ‘ no’ the ceiling over the entryway came crashing down in a cloud of plaster and brick.

…………………………………

When the ceiling had finished collapsing, leaving only the wooden beams of the attic to protect them from the sky, Joel’s hands finally found her. He gripped Juliet by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, his breaths heavy in her ear. 

“You alright?” he demanded, brushing the white dust off of her face. His eyes were wild as they scanned her from head to toe.

Juliet gripped his arm tight and leaned forward, vomiting at their feet.

It really was like their time in the museum , she thought, grimly.  

“Shhh,” Joel murmured, pulling back her knotted strands of dark hair as she continued to spit bile onto the floor. 

Juliet couldn’t even feel the embarrassment of the situation. All she could focus on was the pain in her body and the warm touch of Joel’s fingers in her hair. 

But as her mind returned to her, fierce panic struck her cold.

“Ethan,” she coughed. “He was in the hallway, Joel. Oh god, what if he’s…” she stuttered, her words spilling out of her. The rubble had sealed them in, she couldn’t see into the hallway at all. 

“Etha -” she started to scream, moving to push past Joel. But he was quicker. Joel pulled Juliet to him so her backpack was pressed tight against his chest and he curled his large hand over her mouth. Juliet wriggled against him, trying to free herself from his intense grip. 

Then she heard the sound that haunted so many of her nightmares.

Click. 

Click. 

Click.  

Juliet choked on her breath, thankful for Joel’s hand over her mouth to quiet the sound. 

Click. 

Click. 

Click. 

They heard it again. This time, she could make out which direction it was coming from. The door to their left was left open and she could see a shadow starting to make its way towards the main room. Joel’s torch lay somewhere on the floor behind them, casting dramatic shadows over the room. 

Juliet reached her hand out to grip Joel’s. He squeezed back, curling his fingers over her own, squeezing, as he released his other hand from her mouth. Juliet felt Joel slide his hand around to his back pocket and pull out his handgun. Another flood of panic struck her. Her gun flew from her hand when she tripped. It was somewhere on the floor, but without proper lighting, she couldn’t see where. 

She needed that gun if she was going to get out of here. Without thinking, Juliet released Joel’s hand and took a step forward… onto a loose floorboard.

First, the wood screeched and groaned and Juliet froze, her entire body pausing mid-step. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited, cursing herself for her own stupidity.

Then came a different screech. A gargling, wet, scream erupted from the other room and the clicker came barreling into the main office space. 

Juliet felt Joel grab her by the backpack and swing her around until she stood behind him. He raised his gun, aiming for the clicker’s head, but the shadows were making it difficult and it was getting too close. 

Joel slammed into the clicker, still firing shots. Juliet watched in horror, she had no weapons, nothing to help kill the monster in his arms. Her eyes were wide and frantic as she scanned the floor for her gun. 

Click. 

Click. 

Click. 

Juliet’s head turned with a dizzying speed. There it was. Another clicker. It must have been in the back room. And now, it was headed straight for her. 

Juliet darted to the side, evading its first attack. But as she moved, she quickly realised that she was backing herself into a wall. A scream crawled its way up her throat and she tried to dart her eyes towards Joel, but there was no time. 

The clicker was rapidly approaching, Juliet could smell the decay simmering on its body. If she wasn’t so terrified she would have gagged again. Having no weapons, Juliet did the next best thing: she grabbed the large leather chair and swung it in front of her as the clicker finally caught up to her.

It slammed into the leather and what remained of its teeth snapped at her from behind the chair as its almost claw-like fingers missed her face by an inch. Her terror overpowered her, she didn’t realise it at first, but she was screaming. A fierce, blood curdling scream. 

Across the room she heard another shot and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Through a gap in the chair, her eyes caught sight of a clicker on the ground. Dead. 

“Jul -” Joel started to shout before he was cut off. 

There was another clicker, behind Joel this time. Like Juliet, he was backed into a wall. 

Tears started to flood down Juliet’s face as the clicker continued its snarling attack while Juliet crouched in terror. Juliet was beginning to realise that this wasn’t quite like the museum, afterall. Back then, Juliet had a weapon. Back then, Juliet had Joel. Back then, Juliet had a reason to fight.

But what was left for her now? Why was she still fighting against these monsters? She had nothing to protect herself with - what was the point?

Her father was dead. She had saved Ethan, and now he might be dead too. She had no family, nowhere to go. No real reason to go on. 

Maybe there was nowhere safe left in the world. Maybe, in every room, in every building, in every city, there was a monster in the closet. Juliet didn’t know if she had the energy to fight them anymore.

She was supposed to die in that basement. She had accepted it. 

Maybe now, it was time. 

With another sob, Juliet eased her grip on the chair. Her decision washed over her, calming her terror. She’d had enough. She was done. 

Still sheltered by the chair, Juliet used her last moment to find Joel. Tears blurred her vision, but she could make out his blurry figure kicking and slashing at the clicker. He was yelling something. Juliet thought it might be her name. But she wasn’t sure. 

Without realising, Juliet had regained her grip on the chair, pushing it back against the clicker, stifling its attack. Her body shook with its movements. She continued staring at Joel as her panic returned. As she watched him struggle against the monster, Juliet struggled to catch her breath. 

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t watch Joel die. This wasn’t fair. He had to find his brother. He had to live. He still had a reason to go on. 

He wasn’t supposed to die. 

Juliet couldn’t look away from his quick, sharp movements. He drove his knife into the clicker over and over, with such strength and such fury as he screamed her name. 

“Joel!” she yelled back, her voice croaky as his name spilled out of her without warning.

He had a knife.

Wait.

So did she. 

Juliet braced herself, pushing with all her strength in her left arm as she freed her right and slid it down into her boot. When she brought it back up to push against the leather chair, between her fingers was her rose carved switchblade. 

Her father’s guards hadn’t taken it.

It had been in her boot this whole time. 

Juliet screamed with every bit of fury still left in her weary soul and pushed against the chair, knocking the clicker backwards. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, her pain was no longer a concern, and Juliet leapt to her feet, scrambling over the chair. With one push from her finger, the blade sprung free. The clicker grabbed her shoulder, pulling her towards it, its teeth ready to slash into her neck. 

But Juliet was faster. She used the clicker’s momentum to twist her body to the side and drive her knife into its neck. Black, slimy blood splattered across her face but the clicker kept coming at her. Juliet pulled the knife out with a force which almost knocked her backwards. She stumbled but straightened enough to drive the knife towards the clicker’s head, all while dodging its vicious attacks.

She pierced its open skull with her blade.

The clicker slowed but its attack continued. 

Juliet pulled back and stabbed into the skull again, as the clicker’s fingers sliced against Joel’s jacket. 

This time, the clicker dropped to the ground, releasing its grip on her. 

For good measure, Juliet bent down and brought her knife down another few times. Not caring as more blood splattered her face. 

“Juliet!” Joel grunted out from across the room. 

She twisted, launching to her feet, almost tripping over the first fallen clicker as she ran to Joel. 

Near him on the floor, she could see her gun lying where she had dropped it. 

She picked it up, moved towards the clicker and fired a shot. 

The clicker was propelled backwards with the bullet in its neck and the force from Joel’s kick. But it wasn’t enough, she needed a shot in the head. Juliet put all of her fear, anger and desperation into her next shot. 

The clicker stilled on the floor, inky black blood oozing from its many wounds. 

The clicker was dead but Juliet’s body was like a live wire. Her fingers shook so hard she thought she might drop her gun. 

Her eyes moved from the monster on the floor to the man against the wall. Joel stood with his hands on his knees, breathing heavy. 

“Are you okay?” Juliet gasped out as she staggered over to him, tucking her gun into her pocket. 

Before she could reach him, Joel closed the gap between them in two strides, grabbing hold of her shoulders. His face was coated in sweat and his eyes were blazing, they were entirely black. Juliet should have been terrified of him. He was the picture of danger and rage. But all she felt was relief. He was alive. He was safe. He was okay. 

Joel’s hands moved from her shoulders to her face. His fingers roamed over her forehead, down to her chin, behind her neck, across her collarbone, under his jacket, under her flannel. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Joel growled as his fingers continued their exploration. Juliet thought he was looking for bites but this felt different. It felt like he was assessing every inch of her, desperately feeling for himself if she was alive, if she was actually standing in front of him. 

Juliet did the same, she reached up to his face and cupped her hand over his jaw as her eyes met his. “Do what?” she whispered back. Her body shivered with Joel’s touch. He was unrelenting, his hands roamed everywhere. After a long look into her questioning eyes, his head dropped to her neck and his lips started to roam the delicate skin behind her ear. Juliet couldn’t help the moan that slipped out.

“Make me think you were dead,” Joel replied with a murmur against her neck. Juliet felt his words under her skin, his rough, low, voice sank deeper, and deeper into her body. 

“Can’t lose you,” he continued as his hands squeezed her waist. It was like he was in a trance, Juliet could feel his heartbeat pounding against her chest. She felt frenzied, she couldn’t get enough of him. Was this how being alive was supposed to feel?

Joel pulled back until their eyes met again. His black stare melted into her own as his hand left her waist and his thumb brushed over her lips. 

“So beautiful,” he said with a low growl which, combined with his southern drawl, made his words almost unintelligible. 

But Juliet heard him, and she could read the words written in his deep stare. His thumb brushed back and forth over her lips and warmth flooded Juliet’s entire body.

With a low groan rumbling from his chest, Joel closed the gap between them. 

His mouth crashed onto Juliet’s and Joel wasted no time parting her lips. Their kiss wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t nice, it wasn’t gentle. It was hot, messy, and wrong, so wrong. Joel’s fingers gripped the back of her neck, pushing her closer, holding her in place as his mouth claimed her’s. Juliet palmed his chest, reaching under his shirt, gripping his belt, pulling him closer. She needed him with a primal intensity. Colours flashed across her vision as their teeth crashed into each other. 

Joel’s chest rumbled with low growls as Juliet attempted to say his name with every quick breath. Her mind echoed over and over: Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. It was like a chant, a prayer. But she needed more. The hand tucked under his shirt spread around to his back and Juliet scratched her torn nails down his skin. Joel’s tongue invaded her mouth in response as his other hand tugged her hair into his tight grip. 

Still, she needed more.

Juliet pushed against Joel until he was pressed against the wall behind them. She couldn’t get enough, her entire body was on fire. Her hands were everywhere, they rounded the front of his shirt this time and then started to descend lower, and lower until her fingers tugged on his belt. She felt his hips thrust as his teeth nipped at her lips and his hand tugged tighter on her hair. Her fingers shook as she struggled against his belt buckle -

“Juliet? Joel?!” a voice called from a distance. 

Juliet launched herself from Joel, stumbling backwards as flung herself from his orbit. Joel stood plastered against the wall, his hair a mess and his shirt open, revealing the trail of hair leading into his dark jeans. The place her hand just pressed against. 

“Juliet! Can you hear me?” 

Ethan. 

“Oh god,” Juliet gasped out as she lifted her fingers to her mouth, feeling her swollen lips. What had she done? How could she have forgotten Ethan? 

Joel stared down at her, making no move to fix himself. He was waiting to see what she would do, how she would react. 

Juliet spun around, finally remembering the devastation around her. There were three dead clickers on the floor and they were sealed in with the debris from the ceiling. Ethan was in the hallway, calling her name. And what was Juliet doing? Kissing Joel. She could barely verbalise those words inside her own head. 

It felt so good. Juliet didn’t know she could feel like that. She didn’t know those feelings even existed. 

“Juliet” Ethan called again, his voice was desperate, terrified for her. 

Her guilt strangled her.

“Ethan!” she yelled, stumbling over to the debris. “I’m here, I’m here.” 

Juliet started to pull against the plaster and bricks which blocked their exit and Ethan did the same from the other side. She didn’t dare turn around, she couldn’t bear to see the look on Joel’s face. What could she say to him? She didn’t even understand what just happened. So, Juliet kept pulling against the debris, clearing the way. The adrenaline still numbed the pain but when Joel appeared behind her and started to help, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief. 

After a few minutes, they had cleared enough for Ethan to find his way into the room. He scanned the three clickers on the ground and swallowed rough, before meeting Juliet’s eyes. 

“That makes four then,” he said. 

“You killed one?” Juliet gasped out. That must have been why he disappeared. Had Ethan been battling a clicker this entire time? “Ethan, god. Are you okay?” she asked, moving closer to him. His clothes didn’t look torn and the only mark on him was the black, inky blood of the clickers. Juliet let out a heavy sigh of relief when he nodded. 

Then, without warning, he moved forward and pulled Juliet against him. His hand brushed over her hair with such gentleness. Nothing like Joel’s vicious grip. Juliet’s face reddened at the thought. 

She opened her eyes as Ethan rubbed her back in soothing circles. He was trying to comfort her, she assumed. But Juliet wasn’t looking for comfort, she didn’t want soft touches and gentle words. Juliet scanned the room for Joel and found him standing against the entryway, his hand flexing over the handle of his gun. His jaw shifted when he met her eyes. They were still black, still staring at her with a fire blazing in them and when he looked at Ethan’s hands, cradled around her, his stare turned lethal. 

Juliet bit her lip, and watched as Joel’s eyes followed her movement. His hand gripped his gun tighter. 

Ethan pulled away, but continued to rest his hands on her arms. “You’re going to be okay,” he promised her. But Juliet wasn’t listening, her gaze was still focused on the man behind him. The man who would never offer such words of reassurance in this unstable world. Juliet felt remorseful at the thought and made an effort to meet Ethan’s eyes with a small, accepting smile. She didn’t mean to compare them. Ethan was being kind, trying to calm her. 

But he didn’t know that Joel’s touch frightened her more than the clickers ever could. He didn’t know that she could still taste him in her mouth. He didn’t know that Juliet liked that fear. 

He didn’t know that it was the only thing that made her feel alive. 

When Juliet searched for those dark eyes again, they were gone. Joel had turned away, shielding her from the thoughts etched on his face. 

Yet as she looked down, she watched his hand flex at his side, almost as though he was shaking off the feeling of her touch.

_________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[simping4-2manyppl]

*not edited*

This is my first time writing abt an anime characterr ahh so im sorry if i dont get rodys character right! Or if i mess up some things up, i had so much fun writing this! I apologize for how long it is, but i hope everyone enjoy it!

Readers quirk! (got this off tt) : Crystals - You can make crystals from your hands, or by touching the ground to make them, you can also shoot crystals like bullets and color/shape them into whatever you want, initially using them as a shield or weapons. (Similar to shotos ice quirk)

As everyone was sent to different locations across the globe you were taken with the heroes of the Endeavor Agency as you were doing your work study there, although you totally didnt expect things to go south so fast and to also fall in love during this mission..

-

“God one second im out running errands and the next thing i know im hiding from the police because im being framed for mass murder!” You said clearly frustrated, “hey, I am too you know! But i just cant seem to wrap my mind around as to why we are being framed for this.” Izuku says with a slight frown as he fixes his hat, thinking.

“It doesnt matter, we just have to lay low for now and keep this stupid briefcase safe.” You say with an annoyed tone, readjusting your new clothes the best you could as you sit on top of the bus.

You look at izuku staring at his phone whispering a small “come on..” in hopes of shoto being able to understand his coded message, you bite your lip worried so you decided to glance over at the boy you met a while ago instead.

He had a worried expression on his face as he stared at a picture in a necklace of two little kids, “those yours? Not gonna lie you do look really young for being a dad of two.” You say chuckling softly.

He looked up at you and shook his head slowly, “No, those are my little siblings, Lala and Roro.” He said, looking back down at the small picture of them.

You give him a small nod, not wanting to push any further.. you all decided on getting down since the place looked empty, you sighed in relief using your quirk to make a big crystal, sliding down it safely then shrinking it. Izuku using black whip to get him and rody down aswell.

Izuku and rody talked before seeing him walk over to the phone. You stayed behind with izuku, stretching your arms and legs, you looked over at him seeing the worried expression he had plastered onto his face, “im sure they understood the code ‘zuku, shotos pretty smart id be surprised if he didn’t understand it.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder hoping to make him less worried.

“Yeah, you’re right! Im sure by now they are fixing this mess…” he says, a little bit unsure but still keeping a smile on his face. You nod and place your head on his shoulder, “i hope so too..” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

We heard a loud bang paired with a “damn it!” so you both walked over to where rody was at, “hey is everything okay?” You heard izuku say softly, you nodded looking at him a bit worried.

He turned around and scoffed a little, “Oh yeah, life couldnt be any better.” He said sarcastically. You looked at one another before deciding to start moving again.

-

Hours later, the sky was dark and you all had decided to take a break in an old farmhouse to get some rest and figure out everything that had happened tomorrow.

You were beside izuku reading the same map he had of Otheon before speaking out, “thats not great, doesnt look like anythings crossing the border from here.. we’ll have to borrow some sort of vehicle tomorrow, otherwise we’ll be stuck walking..” he said continuing to read the map.

You let out a loud groan, “walking? You’re crazy! Did you forget how heavy this thing is??” You heard the boy say as he sat up looking in your direction, shocked and annoyed.

“If you get tired i can just carry you on my back, thats what strength is for right? To help people when they are in trouble!” Izuku said smiling while flexing his muscles in a playful way. You and rody both give him a look before you rolled over to your side, “beats me, wake me up when you find a vehicle alright?” You said, yawning and closing your eyes.

You hear rody let out a scoff, “maybe fix our current situation rather than treating me like a backpack.” He says, then hearing izuku agree saying we will, you were gonna respond back to the boys somewhat snarky comment but decided to just close your eyes instead.

After a while you had fallen asleep to the quietness that surrounded you, then waking up to a small bird chirping frantically in your face. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, “huh?..”

“Hey whats going on?” You said before seeing how frantic the bird was getting, urging you to look over at the empty space. “Ah shit. The boys gone!” You said, getting up and shaking izuku awake, “hey zu! Wake up, hes gone!” You said, shaking him even more.

“Huh whats going on?” He said getting up quickly, “no, he wouldnt..” he said panicking, “god the briefcase is gone too!” You said, also feeling panicked as you noticed the briefcase wasnt anywhere in sight. The bird then rushes outside so you both run after it, following the small pink bird.

You werent running for long before sighting a helicopter and a big man towering over the boy, “over there!” You say, then using your quirk to shoot crystals at the man, only distracting him for a bit so izuku can get closer and go over towards them, using his quirk. You run over to the boy that was on the ground, “idiot! are you okay?” You yell, helping him up.

Out of no where you both get pushed out of the way by izuku, you look over and see a lady with arrows, the same one that had attacked you guys before, shooting one at izuku before he uses his quirk again.

The boy goes over to izuku worried, “why did you do that?..” he says shocked, “no time! I need you to hold onto me tightly,” izuku says, kneeling a bit, “zuku! You’re injured, i can take him dont worry, ill follow you!” You say as you grabbed onto him, blushing a little at how close you were.

You take a deep breath in and start shooting out big crystals to run on, following izuku in the dark not daring to look back.

-

After stopping somewhere izuku had pulled out the arrow, drops of blood gushing out. You looked at his injury as you crouched down next to him, disgusted at the sight.

“Wait here, ill find a doctor or something!” The boy said a bit panicked as he looked around for help, “it wasnt that deep in, ill be fine dont worry..it destroyed my phone though.” Izuku said, breathing heavily.

“Turn around, i think we packed a first aid kit.” You said remembering, but feeling a bit guilty. As a hero in training you shouldve looked out, being ready for anything, you got lost in your own head as izuku kept on talking, drowing out the noise of them talking and searched for the kit, grabbing it and removing the shirt that he had on, patching him up as best as you could.

Once you were finished you walked around for a bit, finding a small cave to hide out in. For the most part the way there was silent, and it was also silent while building a small fire inside the cave to stay warm.

While izuku was reading his map again the boy and you sat in silence for a while around the fire, you were a bit surprised when he spoke up, “why did you take the arrow back there?” You and izuku both looked up, “what are you asking?” Izuku said, confused.

He inhales a bit frustrated, getting up, “i betrayed you guys, i took the briefcase while you were sleeping.. instead of worrying about me you couldve grabbed it and ran away...” He said staring out into the dark night sky.

“Uhh why would we do something like that?” Izuku says, still confused. “I was the one with stolen jewels earlier, im one of those bad guys you heroes hate and want to throw in jail.” He says shrugging, still not looking over.

“Well we cant ignore when someones in trouble. Hero or not you’re still a person, so we want to do everything we can to help” You say standing up. He turns around and looks at you slightly shocked, then looking over at izuku.

“But why would a criminal like me be worth getting hurt over?” He said still not believing it, “its always worth it if im able to help someone, no matter who it is!” izuku says with a happy genuine smile on his face.

“I do not get you both..” he says shaking his head, stepping back to sit down on one of the big rocks in the cave.

You sit back down aswell, “ha, you and me couldnt be any more different.” He said chuckling, “huh?” You say looking up at him, although he already had his head turned as he looked up at the sky, seeing the night stars.

“My futures pretty much set in stone, i dont have the luxuries of saying some nonsense like, ‘i wanna be a pilot.’ All i can do is provide for my younger siblings..” the boy said, still not making any eye contact with either of you.

You looked at him a bit shocked, feeling a bit bad for him.

“Well maybe-” izuku said getting up, the boy snapped his head back finally making some eye contact, “dont say a word, i dont want your pity!” He said a bit loud.

Izuku stayed quiet and sat back down, you bit your lip at the awkward and quiet moment before rody spoke up again, “i always thought heroes just wanted fame and money, you see the pros never come to where i live, they wouldnt make a buck there..” he said getting quiet for a second before speaking up again, “but.. i guess there are heroes around like you two.” He said now looking at the floor.

You look at him with wide eyes, cheeks a little pink. “The more i sit around and know more about you two the more i wonder about what im doing with my own life.” He says with closed eyes, smirking a bit, “truth is im pretty lame.” He says with a small chuckle, shaking his head.

You chuckle at what he says, you listen to how izuku thought he was weak, and how he still wants to be a hero with a smile on his face everytime he helps someone, “if im being honest myself most times i feel very weak..but thats why i push myself, im determined to be the best hero i can be!” you said with a big smile, “ and zu, you’re pretty inspirational, i can totally see you being the number one hero.” You say chuckling a bit.

“Look, everyone has their doubts about themselves, but if you dont push yourself and work for the future you want, it wont happen. Things are tough, and i definitely know how life isnt fair, but i say try your best to reach for your goals however you can! Step by step.” You say flashing him a smile, he looks at both you and izuku in awe for a while then smirking a little, getting up and walking closer.

The little pink bird appearing on top of izukus head, “oh yeah, thats pino.” He says with a small chuckle as pino starts chirping and flying above yours and izukus heads. “Hey pino.” You said with a smile as the bird kept chirping happily.

“Oh and by the way the names Rody Soul, we sort of skipped intros earlier.” He said with a small chuckle. Izuku stood up with a smile on his face, “and my names Izuku midoriya but call me my hero name, deku!” He said with another big and bright smile, “deku.. thats easy to remember.” Rody said with a smile as he placed his hands on his hips.

You stood up, “my names y/n l/n, but you can just call me by my hero name, Gem! Or both, doesnt matter to me.” You say smiling, letting out a small laugh.

“Gem.. well y/n you have a beautiful name, guess ill just have to switch around both yeah?” He said giving you a small smirk.

You nodded staying quiet as your face turned a bit red.

“Well lets get some sleep rody, y/n.” Izuku said looking at you both sending you a knowing look, you ignored it and nodded.

“Yeah sounds good to me deku,” rody said with a smile. He nodded and found a spot to lay down in, placing his hat over his face.

You layed down aswell and tried your best to sleep, you thoughts flooding your mind. After a while you could hear soft snores coming from izuku as you also heard a small whisper, “hey… y/n you asleep?” You looked over at rody and sat up a little, “yeah.. cant sleep, just keep thinking about this big mess we got into.”

You said grabbing your knees, “yeahh.. me too…” he said quietly, you pressed your lips together for a moment before speaking, “want to talk about it?” You said with a small smile.

He looked at you for a while before nodding slowly, you scooted over closer as you looked at him. “Alright.. whats keeping you up then?” you said, staring at him.

“Well.. i guess im just worried about my siblings.. i mean i guess i just wonder if they’re okay. Their still kids so i dont want to leave them by themselves..” he said huffing and placing his hand on his cheek.

You nod, “i understand, im sure their okay! So dont worry too much alright? We’ll fix this mess soon so you can go home and see them!” You said looking at izuku sleeping.

He looks at you and nods, “yeah.. by the way, are you both..?” He said hinting at you and izuku. Your eyes open wide and you shake your head, “oh nono! we’re just friends!” You say chuckling nervously as your face immediately turned red.

“You sure?..” he says chuckling, enjoying the way your face turned red, “i mean i love izuku but hes just a good friend to me! Like a brother, we’ve been friends for a while now and im sure you can tell by the way hes so positive hes a pretty good friend.” You say chuckling softly, looking at rody.

He nods, “yeah he seems like a good guy huh, dont worry i was just teasing ya, glad you’re not together though, gives me a chance to tell you how beautiful i think you are.” He said looking back and sending you a small wink.

You blush and turn your face away again, “ah well thank you!” You said quickly, not really knowing how to answer him.

He flashes you a smirk and a nod, “well we should go to bed, im sure youll need the energy for tomorrow.” He said, putting his head on his hands as he moved his knees closer to his chest.

“Yeah.. goodnight rody.” You say with a smile, admiring how good he looked with the moonlight shining down on him.

“Goodnight y/n..” he said, with a small smile now, closing his eyes. You felt a sudden warm feeling in your chest and closed your eyes, trying to ignore the feeling.

_

You woke up the next morning to a loud sound of a truck running, you opened your eyes and looked around seeing izuku and rody both gone. You had a confused expression on your face and stood up, deciding to follow the noise.

To your surprise you saw both izuku and rody talking, “hey, whats this?..” you said, rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry did i wake you?” Rody said looking at you as he walked a bit closer, you yawned and shook your head, “its fine, i shouldve been up by now anyway.” You said stretching your arms a little.

“Hey y/n, i just woke up too seems like we have a ride now, im going to get the suitcase really quick, be right back!” Izuku said as he goes back to get the suitcase.

Rody opened the car door and stepped to the side, “ladies first.” He said, with a playful smirk that you chuckle at before climbing into the car.

He smiles and gets in himself as you both see izuku running up and getting in, he starts the car, squishing you as you sit in between them both.

You groan and blush a little when you turn your head seeing how close you were to rody, you close your mouth and look straight as to not make a big deal out of it.

You ended up falling asleep in the car ride as rody and izuku talked, still feeling a bit tired from the previous day, you didnt even realize your head on rodys shoulder until you woke up later on.

“Finally awake huh?” Rody said giving you a quick smile, going back to pay attention to the road. You straightened up and nodded, “yeah sorry, i mustve moved alot.” You said flustered at the thought of how you had slept on him, he didnt seem to mind though.

“Its okay, you look cute while sleeping so ill let it pass.” He says teasingly, you nodded slowly, freaking out on the inside, only hearing izukus small laughs.

You give him a quick look that shuts him up but sneakily snickers once you turn your head straight again.

The next few days were full of some tiny accidents but mostly just hanging out with eachother and talking, even almost getting recognized by a gas station worker, thankfully rody distracted the guy in time to not notice.

During these days you had managed to learn alot about rody, getting closer to the sweet charming boy. He was cute alright, but you didnt think anything would work out since his priorities were strictly on his siblings, but for now you thought this little crush wasnt so bad to keep to yourself.

One night rody was helping deku patch up his injuries again as you helped with the small fire, you were really focused until you heard izuku say something that had interested you aswell, “what about you? Do you have a quirk? Ive been wondering.” He said with another smile.

“Yeah do you? Ive also been pretty curious about that.” You said, finally getting the fire up, you jumped excitedly and sat down next to it to warm your hands up.

Rody made a face while finishing up “I dont wanna talk about it.” He said hiding his face, embarrassed, “oh, sorry!..” izuku said turning back around, you looked at the boy curious as to why he would be embarrassed to say if he had one or not, but you didnt say anything as to not push him, understanding that not everyone likes to talk about quirks.

“You guys wont laugh right?..” he said, izuku turned around quickly, “i promise!” Rody then glanced at you, “Really?” You shook your head, “id never laugh at that!” You said with a serious look, “we swear!”

Rody sighs, his cheeks a little pink, “okay.. its kind of weird..” he says, giving in, “you may think im joking but its pino..” he said as the small pink bird started chirping appearing on top of his head, then turning around hiding her face clearly embarrassed. “Her actions show my true intentions..” he said looking up at pino.

“Really?” Izuku said looking at pino fascinated, he was always like that with everyone quirk so you smiled at this, knowing how excited he always was to learn about somebodys quirk. “No matter how good i am at lying, pino always gives away my true feelings..” he says blushing again, “honestly its not much of a quirk..” he said again holding pino in his hands.

“Dont say that! I think your quirk is cool, and pinos pretty adorable too!” You say smiling as you scooted closer, trying to pet pino instead seeing her curled up in rodys hands, shy.

You chuckle at this and shake your head, smiling. “I think its a wonderful quirk too! I find everyones quirks to be super cool since their all pretty unique!” izuku says smiling.

Rody nods, still a bit shy, “thanks guys..” he says chuckling. You smile at him and nod, “we should get to bed, im sure that by tomorrow we’ll make it by the border.” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself to be warm.

- *lil skip*

Once you had made it to the border izuku checked it out, noticing how heavily guarded it was, “seems we wont make it past the guards without a fight, looks like we’ll have to go up.” You nod, agreeing as izuku tells rody to get on his back.

“Deku take this.” Rody says as he hands over the suitcase, you and izuku looked at him with confused expressions on eachothers face, “whats the deal?” izuku said, “you wont be able to carry me with that injury from the arrow, this is where i say goodbye.” He said looking at the both of you with a smile on his face, “hold on, the trucks out of gas! We cant leave you alone at a place likes this?!” You said concerned, also feeling a bit disappointed, you didnt want to go your seperate ways so soon.

The small crush you had on rody was only supposed to stay like that, but after hanging out with him and getting to know him for a couple of days you had started realizing that the feelings you had for him were more than just a small school girl crush.

“Guys come on you know how fast i can run at a pinch, ill scrounge up some food and ill wait for you both.” He said with a slight smirk, shrugging. “Go figure out whats up with this case, thats what we’re here for after all.” He said handing it to you.

“But rody..” you said staring at him a bit sad, izuku also looking at him a bit upset, “Im counting on you heroes.” He said, izuku nodding firmly and walked over to him going to take the suitcase from rodys hands while you stood there a bit shocked.

The loud sound of a helicopter coming close took your attention away as you looked up at the sky staring at it. You spot the same lady ready to shoot an arrow with a man standing behind her, your eyes open wide but it seems as though izuku noticed she shot the arrow, using his quirk to move you both out of the way again.

You gasp as you used your own quirk to make big crystals to block the arrows from hitting you. You let out an annoyed groan noticing that she started shooting something that turned into big boulders, causing you to lose balance.

“Oh damnit their going to flatten us!” You heard rody say, you pressed your lips together trying to creat a bigger crystal to provide some shield but it was no use as she just kept dropping more, not giving you enough time.

You see izuku use his quirk again kicking the helicopter away, causing the force to push it back, crashing it but also pushing you, izuku and rody back.

You hit the ground, groaning as you got up, “god that hurt!” You said wiping the rocks and dirt off of you, looking around seeing izuku standing up as well, “rody are you okay?” You heard him yell back.

“Yeah maybe.. oh no the case!” He said looking around, trying to spot it. Once he does he bolts towards it, hearing another yell shortly after, “Rody look out!” izuku says as some big boulders crash close to him, “rody!” you yell out with wide eyes as you see them knock him away.

He manages to grab the suitcase but you dont see him anywhere in sight, “ah shit, rody!” You say worriedly, running over to find him.

“Deku catch it!” He says throwing the suitcase over as izuku ran over to catch it but getting close to being hit by an arrow, you see rody fall as you let out a yell, “Oh my god Rody!” You say running towards him, tears filling the brim of your eyes as you try to shoot out a big crystal only for it to not work.

You see a bunch of ice wrap around the big man, then circling back to get rody back up, “that ice..” izuku says, “its todoroki!” You yell out, then seeing him run out of the way, bakugo also using his quirk, aiming it at the helicopter.

It went by quick but you decide to instead see if rody was okay, you run up and embrace him into a big hug, “are you okay?!” You say worried, checking him for any injuries. He looks shocked at the scene and just nods slowly not really taking your words in.

“I was so wor-“ your words got cut off at the big crash of the helicopter then seeing the woman falling, you were in disbelief yourself so you didn’t expect rody to be any better.

Izuku ran over to you both, making sure everyone was alright, “yeah but im not sure how..” rody said looking at the ground, gasping and looking around, “where is it?!” He said, then hearing shoto come up with the briefcase.

“thanks todoroki, but how did you find us?” Izuku said, “well thanks to their flashy attacks we spotted you from the train, is he the one you were talking about on the phone?” He said with a calm demeanor, “yeah, his name is rody soul, they’re also calling him a criminal just like us.” You said trying to keep yourself calm.

“Yeah thanks for the assist!” Rody said with a flashy smile, before jumping at bakugos unexpected yelling that you have all gotten used to by now.

You noticed izuku staring at the bottom of the briefcase, seeing a small compartment open up, “hey look!” He said grabbing it. You looked around and decided it would be better to be protected incase of another attack.

You stood up moving a bit closer and crouched down, placing your hands down onto the ground building a large crystal with a color similar to the rocks, shielding you all from any possible attacks.

You grunted at the feeling it left behind in your palms, wiping them on your shirt to get rid of it then standing up and walking back over to see them trying to figure out a little puzzle that was supposedly in the little compartment.

“Hand it over, ill blow it up!” You heard bakugo say, frustrated already with the small puzzle. You rolled your eyes smacking the back of his head, “you cant do that idiot! Its a puzzle for a reason, there must be something important inside.” You said huffing, ignoring whatever he was yelling at in response to you.

You see rody handling the puzzle then somehow being able to solve it, “rody thats amazing! Howd you do that?” You said looking at him in awe as shoto and izuku figure out what the little pieces inside are.

“I did a puzzle like this before when i was a kid.” He said, flashing you a big smile and oh how you loved it.

You blushed nodding, “thats cool! I dont think id be able to wrap my head around a difficult puzzle like that.” You said, walking a bit closer to him, “its simple once you learn its tricks..” he said in a soft tone, inspecting the small puzzle carefully.

-

Once everyone was in the air and gearing up you glanced over at rody that was focused on flying, you put on the last set of your support gadgets that you had gotten for your suit and waited, admiring how helpful rody was being. Also the fact that pino was chirping happily showed you that he was pretty excited but also nervous about flying, you were just happy that he finally got to live out his dream even if it wasnt in the best situation.

“Thats it the base, going in for a landing, brace yourselves!” Rody said turning his head a little to look at everyone.

“No Rody you turn back.” Izuku said pressing the button to open the door, “Extras like you should stay out of the way.” Bakugo said following right behind him, “He has a point.” Todoroki said agreeing, you rolled your eyes and gave rody a frown, “Sorry rody but this is very dangerous, please get back safe alright?” You said, getting ready to go aswell.

You didnt wait for his response as everyone had already jumped down, you took a deep breath in and jumped aswell, making sure to stay straight as you shot out big crystals, shielding yourself from the attacks of the Humarise soldiers.

You shot out many big and sharp crystals taking down a couple of soldiers before landing down, making another crystal in the shape of a slide to keep you from injuring yourself at the landing. (Sorry if it doesnt make sense guys, use ur imagination the best u can 😣)

You got swooped up by todoroki as he was also holding deku with him, you let out a small gasp since you didnt expect it but you didnt complain, wanting to help in any way you could.

Todoroki used his ice to go over some of the soldiers but you all soon got hit by some lasers that broke the ice, causing you to fall on izuku, “sorry!” you said, a little hurt from the fall, but helping each other up “Todoroki!” Izuku yelled out, calling for him.

“You guys go on ahead as fast as you can!” He said, shooting out some fire, aiming it at the soldiers that were all rushing in quick.

You nodded, following behind izuku, using your quirk to get some of the soldiers out of the way as did izuku.

He knocked down the door and walked in, you peeked a little before following behind him, “seems empty.. something doesnt feel right zuku..” you mumbled, getting an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

He looked around and noticed a door, “the trigger bomb controls should be around there, lets go!” he said running, you were about to go until a laser shot at his feet, “how dare you, this is not a place where someone so diseased should step foot.” A man said, slowly walking out.

You glared at the man, “this must be the leader..” you thought as you stood ready in case of anything.

The man was still talking but you were completely focused on the fact that the room was starting to board up. You let out a small gasp, turning around to see the whole room boarded up before hearing, “Ill stop your trigger bomb if its the last thing i do!” you turned around quickly seeing izuku lunge forward, towards the man.

“Deku wait!” you yelled out, then seeing him getting thrown back, you raised your hands shooting a couple of crystals at him, only to see them shoot back at you.

Your eyes opened wide as you dodged some, only getting scraped a little by a couple on your arm. “What the?..” you said, in shock.

The man went on to speak about have the ‘disease’ himself, saying that his quirk reflects everything he comes in contact with, which helped you figure out why your crystals bounced back at you.

You see izuku keep on attacking, only to get his attacks reflected back onto him, “deku!” You said running over to him, helping him up.

“His quirk, every punch or kick or whatever you try will only reflect back at you!” You said helping him wipe off some of the dust and rocks.

“We’ll run, avoid him completely!” Izuku said, as you nodded and both started running to the door, the time starting to run out.

Out of no where many lasers had started to appear, one badly injuring your left side and arm. You groaned out in pain, using your right to hold your side, you then hear a yelp from izuku alerting you that he had also been injured.

You try moving but end up falling onto the ground clutching your arm and side, “i have to keep going.. i.. cant let rody down, my friends and family...” You thought as tears pricked your eyes, you had realized how important his siblings were to him and they were in the area of a bomb, you didnt want anything bad to happen to him either.

You noticed the blue man distracted so you used your left hand to shoot out some crystals, hoping that the angle you were shooting them from would work, although you ducked your head as you saw them reflecting back towards you. Hitting your body as you let out some screams.

You looked over at izuku and saw all the blood pooling next to him, he stood up looking in your direction, “y/n!” He said worriedly, you gave him a thumbs up, not wanting him to worry about you right now, he turned back after giving you a small nod to look at the man.

You couldnt quite hear anything the man was saying, nor deku, just the screaming in pain was all that you could hear and It terrified you.

You knew you had to do something so with all the strength you had in you, you tried using your right arm to lift you up, only to fall back down, you let out a groan and tried your best to move across the room, only being able to push yourself slowly.

You glance to your side seeing rody holding deku as blood gushed out, “r-rody?” You said with wide eyes, confused and worried. He looked at you for a second, then giving you a genuine smile, “its fine now y/n, deku. Dont you worry.” You tried to move again but only winced in pain, “you.. have to run.” Izuku said in a low voice.

“I will, once i hand this over to the blue guy.” He said, holding the deactivation key, you look at him in disbelief, then laying izuku down softly, “know that i am sorry, but they said they’d stop the Otheon explosion if i helped them out.”

“N-No…” you mumbled, trying to push yourself closer to rody leaving a trail of your blood on the ground, “Dont do this, if we work together we can stop him and help everyone, please!” Izuku said trying to get up, groaning in pain.

“How are we going to stop him if you’re both all messed up? Times almost up, the bombs are going to explode its game over..” rody said shrugging, “No!” You shout out, he looks a little bit over his shoulder with a blank face.

“Atleast im going to protect my family.. i can do that much.” He said, starting to walk up. You couldnt believe your eyes, as they started clouding up with tears. You heard rody speak but everything was looking and sounding foggy.

Was this how it ended? Your heart was starting to hurt more than any of the injuries you currently had, feeling betrayed by the boy you had started to grow big and real feelings for.

“Sorry heroes but this is how it all ends.” You hear rody say with a calm voice, you looked up wincing again in pain, “thats life, people get betrayed, if its any condolence it happened to me too.” He said turning his head back to the blue man, “nothing to cry about.” He said, going to hand the key over.

You and izuku both look at him in disbelief, “rody no..” you said, until you saw that little pink bird in his hoodie shaking her head, it took you by surprise but you used up all the strength in you to stand up.

You looked to your side seeing izuku up aswell, you saw rody flip up the key, then running out of the way, izuku kicking the blue man in the face. “Y/n!” Rody said as he ran over to you, pino grabbing the key quickly as she had it in her mouth.

“Seems like the plans working huh pino!” He said happily before you hear the man yell angrily and you see the lasers again, you pushed rody out of the way quickly, “Run! Ill cover myself, go!” You said shooting some crystals at the lasers to break them, izuku doing the same.

As you shot most of them one suddenly turned back on hitting rody on his right side, “No!” Izuku said, rushing over to use his quirk on the man, you stared at rody as he was spread out on the floor, you yelled out, running up the stairs and over to him, “rody!” You said kneeling down to his side, trying your best to help him up.

You both look over and see izuku getting pushed into the ground, “oh shit.. deku! Dont you dare die you kick his ass!” Rody said as you both held onto eachother, “ ill stop the bombs, you- you take him down hero!” He said holding the key up.

“You got this rody!” you said, and he nodded giving you a quick hug, he winced a little, leaning on the wall, “i wont hold you back, i believe in you rody!” you said, “be safe y/n, you really are a gem. You got this hero!” He said giving you one last smile, starting to walk towards the room.

You smiled at his words, nodding and grabbing your side making your way down next to izuku. As he threw a punch you lifted your right hand getting ready to try and block the reflection only for it to come back so quickly, knocking both you and izuku down.

He stood back up, ready for another but you fell onto your knees gasping for air, panicking as you saw the room starting to go dark and fuzzy. “You got this deku, beat him!” You said before mumbling a curse word hoping that rody makes it in time, “i cant give up.. not now..” you thought, trying to stay awake but instead getting knocked out cold.

-

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a bright room, you blinked a couple times before realizing you had made it to the hospital. Your eyes filled with happy tears seeing that rody did it, he saved everyone.

You tried to sit up but winced a little, “y/n! You’re awake!” Deku said, going over to you, “how are you feeling?” He said with a worried expression, you chuckled and shook your head, “im fine izuku feels like i barely got a scratch, wheres rody?” You said jokingly but glancing around the room, he pointed at the bed on the other side and sure enough there he was with his arms wrapped around two little kids.

“Im assuming that roro and lala?” you said chuckling, smiling and staring at the cute sight in front of you, you moved your legs to the side getting off and walking over to the boys bed.

“Hey hero.” You said smiling at him, getting a bit closer to the bed, “gem!” He said excitedly, “im so glad you’re awake.” He said, sitting up more to hug you.

You moved forward and accepted his hug sighing in relief, once you pulled back you noticed the little kids staring at you, youre face turning red in embarrassment, “im so sorry for not introducing myself! My name is Y/n L/n! Or you could call me gem if thats easier!” you said, giving the two kids a nervous smile, chuckling.

Rody looked at his sibling and nodded at them, “this is my friend, you can say hello..” he said telling them that it was okay.

Your heart dropped a little at the word friend but you shook it off, knowing that you werent really anything, reminding yourself that he was a good friend, that you maybe had feelings for…

You talked with his siblings getting along pretty easily with them, you could totally see why rody loved them, they were adorable!

After a while you had sat on the edge of rodys bed making small crystals in fun shapes for the kids. Your moment got cut short when izuku interrupted with some bad news, “Hey y/n, i meant to tell you but we’re supposed to be leaving tomorrow, your stuffs all packed and everything ready to go.” He said, and you nodded before he walked away.

“Well.. ill let you rest.” You said to rody, standing up from the bed, he looked at you like he was gonna say something but instead he just mumbled out a “Yeah okay.. thanks for being so nice to my siblinga and well…. to me.” He said with a genuine smile, a faint blush spread across cheeks.

You chuckled, nodding “of course, dont worry rody their good kids, and very adorable. Goodnight now.” You said giving him a smile as you returned to your bed.

You let out a sigh once you got in bed, closing your eyes to rest.

_

You were at the airport already on your way to board the plane with the rest of the heroes as you walked talking with izuku, a small frown on your face as you told him how you didnt want to leave already.

He chuckled and teased you knowing about your crush on rody since you werent really good at hiding it, you were about to respond until you heard a little chirp.

You turned around seeing pino and rody, waving. Your face lit up in shock but also feeling extremely happy that youd see him one last time before going home.

“Rody!” You and izuku said, walking over to him, “we didnt think youd be out so soon!” Izuku said smiling, “eh they said i was good to head back home.” Rody said with a shrug and a smirk.

“Glad to hear it.” You said giving him a smile,”althoughh.. if i had died stopping those bombs i would have become a total legend!” He said jokingly, “thats a morbid thing to say!” Izuku said before you all heard a loud “HA!” coming from bakugo.

You all bursted out laughing before letting izuku have his final chat with him, meanwhile you remembered something and grabbed a small piece of paper, scribbling your number on it and then stuffing it back into your pocket.

Once you had seen that they were finished talking you walked back over and looked at izuku before he chuckled and waved goodbye, walking away to give you space.

You took a deep breath in and smiled at rody, “ill miss you alot…” you said, your smile turning a bit sad. He shook his head and embraced you into another big hug, “yeah i will too but do me a solid and stick to Japan okay? Nothing good seems to happen when you heroes are here.” He said, calmly. You stepped back and looked at pino, seeing how her eyes were all teary and sad.

“Ill come back for sure then. I swear..” you said smiling, “theres something i also have to tell you.” You both said at the same time, you blushed and looked to the side before giggling, “you go first.” He said with a chuckle, “well.. meeting you was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me rody, i mean it. I hope this doesnt cross any boundaries but if im being honest these past few days i caught really enjoying your company, so i guess what id like to say is.. well, i like you!…” you said looking down, your face now completely red, “thought id get it out now instead of holding that in.” You said letting out a sigh.

He grabbed your cheeks and pushed your head up to look at him, “I do too y/n.. look im not the type of guy to really care for people but i have definitely gotten really close to you, and well even liking you too.” He said, also a bit shy now.

You chuckled, hearing the intercom call out the name of your flight, you sighed and reached in your pocket, “here, my number incase you ever want to get a hold of me.” You say handing it to him, he takes it and gives you a smile placing it in his pocket.

You quickly take your right hand and make a small pink crystal in the shape of a heart, “andd maybe a little something… so you dont forget me alright?” You said chuckling, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread out onto your whole face.

He took the crystal placing that into his pocket too before looking into your eyes and leaning in closer to you, your heart stopped a little as you leaned in placing your lips onto his. The moment felt unreal, you had definitely felt sparks and you were so ready to tell the girls back at UA about this.

The kiss was short but sweet and filled with a lot of emotion but you had broken it, hearing the last call for your plane, “i should really get going now.” You said biting your lip.

He nodded and gave you one last hug, “ill see you soon gem.” He said with a sad smile, you nodded and pet pinos head, “dont miss me too much mkay?” You said smiling at him, “ill try.” He said with a playful smirk giving you one last kiss.

You definitely didnt expect to fall in love on this mission but you also dont regret it. Youd be back to visit the boy from Otheon the soonest you could, maybe even bring a couple of gifts for him and his siblings too. Doesnt matter, all you know is that you’ll be waiting for the day that youll be in his arms again.

[michverdun]

(Morph by viralsmorphs, who is as far as I can tell is completely off the internet, unfortunately.)

I made my way down the old wooden stairs, being careful to not make noise. I kept one hand on the rail, my eyes failing to adjust to the darkness in the basement. Even still, I could feel that he was there. There was just something in the air that made my hair stand on end.

I fumbled with the basement wall until I found the light switch and flipped it. Instantly the basement was lit up, revealing concrete walls with random assortments of wood, guns and other things my parents didn't want their friends knowing about. Directly opposite the staircase was him, chained to the wall in all of his muscled glory.

His face looked almost the same as it did when he left all those years ago, with the exception of being a little more masculine and a new stubbly beard. It was his body that had the most change, as he had gained am incredible amount of muscle. His arms and legs bulged with power, and as he lifted an arm up to his eyes I could see the bicep bulge, far bigger than any other arm I had ever seen. His pecs were two giant, hairy pillows. He slowly bounced them as I stared at his physique, watching the muscle flex and swell. It was only then that I looked back up at his face. He was smiling, brandishing some sharp canines.

"You came down here all by yourself? Defenseless? Brave little thing." He said, his voice dripping with testosterone. It had to be a few octave deeper then the last time I had spoken to him.

"I brought a gun." I snapped.

"And no silver bullets. That thing's useless on me." He chuckled.

I sat down on the floor by the staircase, bringing my knees to my chest. I had thrown down a pair of shorts a few hours ago, when my parents confirmed that he wasn't dead and chained him up. He was stretching them to the limit.

"Is there a reason you came down here alone? or is it just to stare? Honestly, I don't mind either way." He flexed one of his arms, the bicep swelling into a ball of hard steel, almost as big as my head.

I felt my dick start to harden as I kept watching him. God he looked so perfect, but I had other things to do other than watch. He had disappeared from my life years ago, and now he was here again, transformed into a werewolf of all things. I had to know.

"What does it feel like?" I asked.

He stopped flexing as he just stared at me in surprise, his cocky facade faltering.

"I've known you for so long, I can trust you to tell me the truth, right?" I added.

"Of course. When I got bitten first, it hurt like hell, but after..." he let out a low growl, "It felt fucking perfect. My senses were so sharp, they felt superhuman. The moon's power, the strength, it-- I could feel it pulsing through my body, making me bigger, and BIGGER--"

He moaned as he felt up his own body, clearly getting worked up from his own description as his cock threatened to tear through the shorts that were already bursting at the seams with muscle. I saw his fingernails lengthen and darken until they were claws on the end of his fingers, and while it was slight, I could tell that he was getting bigger.

"The best part was seeing how much bigger I was compared to other people. Normal humans just can't compare anymore, and every time I transform back I get bigger. Seeing all of those worthless fuckers in town panic after seeing me again almost made it worth all of the shit they put me through."

"Is that why you came back?" I asked

He shook his head and smiled, as if why he was here was already obvious.

"I came back for you. You've spent your whole life under the thumb of your parents, afraid of what they'd do to you if you left. I know they want you to keep up the hunting tradition, to "protect the righteous", but you don't have to anymore. I can protect you."

I thought back to the fight just hours ago. He took a beating from my parents, and gave it back in equal measure. I was almost sure he was going to kill my father, until my father slammed him in the back of the head with a silver-plated sledgehammer. It took me hours of begging to keep him alive, but now he looked fully healed, even while being wrapped in silver chains. Chains I didn't have the key for.

"I can't get you out of that," I said, pointing to his chains "Dad's got the key right on his nightstand, and if I got caught he'd--"

He didn't even wait for me to finish, as he strained against the chains with all of his might. the chains pulled taut, but with a deep roar firm him, he snapped those chains, freeing himself.

I looked on in awe. That much silver would have left any other werewolf almost catatonic, but he was able to rip it off of himself easily.

"I'm stronger than I look."

He stared down at me as I stood up my hands shaking. He towered over me, being well over 6 feet tall. Even with his height, His body was thick with muscle, to the point of almost impeding his movement. For him to be that tall and that muscled, he truly had to be a monstrous man.

In seconds after I got up, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. He pressed my head deep into his pecs, fully engulfing me in muscle. I felt the beat of his heart thump in his chest.

"I've dreamt about this moment for years, I just knew I had to be strong enough. Please, run away with me. I left my truck on the other side of town, and I have a place where we could live together. IF you wanted to, I mean, I know one of the other guys in the pack has a place you could have all to yourself. I can't wait for you to meet them, I'vetalkedaboutyousomuchand--"

He was cut off by the sound of me laughing, elated that my life was about to change. He looked down at me, tears in his eyes, waiting for my answer. I saw the clock on the wall change to 3:00 AM, the witching hour. We had plenty of time before my parents woke up.

"Lets get out of here." I said, and before sunrise we were gone.