#this happens a lot. anxiety strikes again

[flickering-nightfall]

I wanted to update my design refs (I never posted the old ones, but they're from maybe six months ago now). But then it took forever because I kept putting the iterators into ten bajillion outfits. Well here they are now!

I'll probably do this with the slugcats too.

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

I love how you characterize Aaron Hotchner! Would you please write something for him along with the quote ‘keep your eyes open, sweetheart’? Completely up to you, but was definitely thinking about some heavy angst 🙃🙃

"look at me" - hotch x gn!bau!reader - 985 words

cw: injuries and depictions of violence, general angst, anxiety, hotch literally just being a hero as per freakin usual

why hello my love! thank you sm for this request <3

i don't write a lot of angst, it's certainly something i need practice with! but i really enjoyed writing this and i smooch ur lil forehead

-----------------

People always say that in a near-death experience, your whole life flashes before your eyes. 

Not yours. 

You didn’t see your whole life, no. You saw bits and pieces - learning to ride a bike, walking at your high school graduation, pinning your FBI badge to your blazer. And then you just saw Aaron. 

The first time you met, shaking hands as a brazen formality in the middle of a case, feeling his deep, brown eyes scrutinize your every move, watching him watch you. He was testing you back then, seeing if you’d be a good fit for the team.

The first real conversation you shared with him - The Beatles, which song was his favorite? Laughing at him when he said Yellow Submarine. 

When he held your hand for the first and only time on a particularly rough case, about four months ago, and promised you that things would get better. 

When you comforted him for the first time, about three months ago, after Haley left him. You promised him that everything happens for a reason. 

Five minutes ago, when you told him you felt certain the unsubs were going to strike again. You felt it in the pits of your stomach, you told Aaron. And he just nodded and said he trusted your intuition. Then he held the door open for you, and led you out of the police station, into the dead-quiet night of the street.  

He clicked the key fob in his hand, and the SUV burst into red-hot flames and sent you both flying. You were immediately knocked unconscious, your body thrust out into the street flippantly, like someone had simply thrown a baseball. 

You come to on the concrete, your head pounding. All sound is muffled, but you see Aaron on his knees, hovering over you. His face is covered in dirt and soot and blood, and he keeps cupping his hand over his ear. 

“ - hear me?” Sound is restored in the middle of Aaron’s question. It’s abrupt, like someone changing the channel on the TV, but you can hear again. You feel dizzy and disoriented as you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“Stay down,” Aaron instructs, guiding you gently to lay flat on your back once again. Your entire body is throbbing. 

“Aaron,” you feel a panicked, whispered sob escape you. He grabs your hand and you feel him squeeze it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out again and Aaron’s grip tightens around your hand. “It hurts.” 

“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. Please?” The endearment rolls off of Aaron’s tongue like he’s said it a million times before. He hasn’t. Your relationship with him has been professional-ish up until this point. You’re not sure how he feels about you, exactly, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. 

 He doesn’t even acknowledge that he said it. “What hurts?” Aaron’s speaking loudly, like someone who has headphones in. His hand is still pressed against his ear. 

“All of it,” you murmur. “Everything.” 

You feel tears in your eyes. Your stomach is in knots and you feel like someone is sitting on your chest. You blink a few times, feeling the tears drip down your face and onto your lips, salty and full of dread. 

Aaron’s checking you over, you realize, lifting your head gently and quickly to make sure you’re not bleeding. He’s talking to you, telling you what he’s doing so you don’t panic even more. He uses feather-light touches to lift your arm, and pain shocks you, coursing through your wrist. “Shh, hey, I’m sorry,” he says, laying your arm by your side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Your wrist is broken.” 

You blink a few tears away. 

“I’m going to pick you up, Y/N,” he tells you. He never calls you by your first name, but you’re in so much pain that you can’t even be jarred by it. “Can you move your other arm?” 

It feels laden, but you can. You nod and whimper in confirmation. 

“Can you hook it around my neck?” He asks as he slides his hands under you. The crooks of your knees and your back are cradled by Aaron’s arms and you wrap your arm around his neck. Once he determines you’re stable in his arms, he lifts you up. You hear sirens blaring as they get closer, and you see Aaron grimace. You feel his body tense up, his fingers curl around the fabric of your shirt. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him in an unfiltered mumble, sniffling as he carries you towards the nearest ambulance. 

“It’s just my ear. I’m fine, Y/N. I’ll be fine,” he promises, but you feel how labored his gait is. It’s taking everything in him to carry you to the ambulance. You want to tell him to stop, to remind him that the paramedics can bring the gurney to you. But you’re so tired, so dizzy. You think maybe if you just rest your eyes a little bit, you might feel better. Your head tilts to rest in the crook of Aaron’s neck. Your eyes flutter shut. 

“Y/N, you might have a concussion. You have to stay awake, okay?” Aaron’s voice draws you back. Your eyes are shaky when they open, and you see him looking at you with weighted concern as he sets you onto the gurney. 

The paramedics load you shakily up into the ambulance, and you reach your uninjured arm out. “You’re going to the hospital with me, right?��� You ask. 

Aaron nods, climbing in after the paramedics and sitting beside you. His eyes are piercing and full of consternation as he takes your uninjured hand in both of his. He runs his fingertips over your knuckles, nodding assuredly, though you are certain he is feeling exactly the opposite.  “Yeah. Of course. I’m not going to leave you.”

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 3

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: character death, mentions of pregnancy, Mingyu acts dumb, reader goes through a whole lot of emotional turmoil, mentions of divorce, tears, profanities, major angst.

Word Count: 5.7k

@wongyuuu thanks a lot for brainstorming out this with me & happy birthday, love! 💕🎂

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Mingyu returns to an empty house. He waits for you for an hour, two hours and when the clock strikes midnight his mind clouds with concern. He fishes out his phone and ignoring the series of notifications that keeps on popping up, he calls you.

But with all his calls remaining unanswered, Mingyu surges in panic and calls Soonyoung who's extremely pissed and shows his discontentment through a dry, edgy reply.

"She left with Minghao."

That's the only line Mingyu hears before getting hung up. And Soonyoong does not pick up his call again.

And now he sits rooted to the couch, tapping feet in anxiety and worry with no idea about your whereabouts and who the hell is Minghao?

His thoughts bounce off the walls and he decides to take his car and drives off to find you aimlessly. He goes to your office only to be greeted by the security. He goes to the café you are regular at, knowing very well that it would be closed but he makes a round just for his sanity. He knocks on your apartment door but it's empty just like the house was.

Dejected he fishes out his phone to call your uncle when the notification of your name flashes on the screen.

'Meet me at home within fifteen minutes.'

There's no way he's gonna get home within the said timeframe but just as he rushes towards his car, his phone vibrates again.

'Half an hour. Don't run the red lights, don't run over people.'

Mingyu listens to your advice and thankfully he reaches you in one piece.

But he stands frozen as he sees you in the hallway carrying a duffle bag.

"Where were you?", no greetings, you ask checking your watch.

Mingyu knows you know and you know that he knows that you know.

"I had to leave with Sora."

"And who's she?"

Mingyu bites his tongue before answering, "My ex."

"What made you go somewhere with your ex rather than watch your wife getting felicitated?", your voice is calmer than usual and it scares your husband to the bones.

He stays silent. And you wait for him like you have all the time in the world.

"I can't tell you right now, Y/N. I'm sorry.", he answers quietly, lowering his gaze.

"Okay.", you say and Mingyu looks at you flabbergasted. Before he could speak, you add,"I'm going to stay at my uncle's."

Mingyu feels electrified, the sensation which burns his whole body, itches on his skin and scratches at the throat.

"I'm sorry, I know it is an unacceptable behaviour of me but please trust me. I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.", Mingyu grabs your hands and blabbers, "You can stay with your uncle but please tell me when you are going to return, that you're going to return."

You pull back your hands from his grip, "I don't think I'll be returning anytime soon.", you say sternly, "I had something to share with you but this isn't the right time."

"Y/N--"

"Before I leave, tell me one thing. Are you going to keep seeing her?"

Mingyu flares at this, "I'm not seeing her for fucks sake! I would never do something bad, I'm your husband."

You stare at him for a solid minute, "You didn't answer my question. Anyways, I'm disappointed. Keep yourself in my shoes and give it a thought."

"Let me drive you, it's late.", he offers.

"You don't have to worry about me, Minghao is already waiting with his car."

Mingyu twitches on hearing the name for the second time, "And who's that?"

"I can't tell you right now, Mingyu. I'm sorry.", you mimic his words from before and just as you are about to cross the threshold, you whisper shaking your head, "You can't even put yourself in my shoes..."

Mingyu watches you leave with a grim heart.

It's been a two weeks since you've been living with your uncle. And though you've left home in despair, Mingyu has somehow made it a mission to win back your trust.

But who's gonna tell him that you never doubted him, you were just mad, just like a teenage girl who can't keep her act straight in front of her love.

He calls you every night. For the first week you didn't pick up his calls but when your anger started to subside you entertained his calls but never spoke much, just listened to him telling how his day went. He asks every time if could visit you, getting a straight no as reply. He might be obedient but he's sneaky as hell because most of the times when you're getting off work you somehow see him engrossed with some conversation with Soonyoung at the parking.

What is he doing at your workplace almost everyday, when he could crash at Soonyoung's place. Why does Soonyoung have to call out your name every time when you're walking past them, roping you into some small talks.

Soonyoung is the imposter.

And why does everytime aa you are about to take leave after the conversation, Mingyu asks you the same question, "When are you returning?"

You never answer.

"You've gotta be kidding me!", Seokmin yelps. They all have gathered at Mingyu's place because everyone is stressed and wants to know what is actually happening.

"There are all sorts of rumours at the workplace. And I wanna punch everyone in the face.", Soonyoung says dejected, "Minghao and Y/N went to the same university so some are saying that they have dated during that time." he takes a chug from the can and continues, "And since Mingyu didn't show up at the event last time, it has sparked the speculations."

Mingyu sits head lowered, rubbing his hands all over the face.

"I'm sure Minghao likes her. I can tell by the way he looks at her.", Soonyoung puts it down.

"What about Y/N?", Mingyu asks his heart beating in his chest rapidly.

"What do you think dumbass?", Junhui glares at him.

"Woah, I'm offended now that you asked that question.", Hansol speaks in distaste.

"It's been a month without her.", Mingyu sighs, his lips curl down, eyes filled with concern, "I think everything was going back to normal, assuming by the way she responded, I felt like she'd be coming back anytime but she has gone radio silent suddenly. For the past two weeks she isn't responding to my calls or texts, she is even working from home."

"Yeah maybe Minhee can tell something", Junhui suggests, "But I doubt she'd spill anything if Y/N has told her not to."

The evening bleeds into night and the guys keep on chatting when suddenly Jeonghan who hasn't been much involved decides to speak.

"Now that Sora is back? What are you gonna do?"

The laughters die down and room falls silent with all the eyes on Mingyu.

"What's going on guys? Is there something we don't know?", Seokmin asks in fear.

Jeonghan leans back on the couch and looks at Mingyu, saying, "I think it's time, they should know. I'll go first, that day Mingyu left with Sora to meet me. Apparently, the guy Sora had left Gyu for turns out to be a douch. Won't go to the details but he kept blackmailing her, so desperate to save herself and afraid that I won't be meeting her if she went alone, she took him with her. I'm skipping the legal parts and that guy has been sort of taken care off. But that's not where it ends.", he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "The problem is that Sora wants him back now."

Gasps erupt through the room.

"Why did I see it coming though?", Seokmin says, "You have said no straight to her face right, Min?", he asks Mingyu.

The silence that follows horrifies every other one present in the room.

"Don't tell me...", Hansol trails off, eyeing his friend in utter disbelief.

"It's not what you're thinking.", Mingyu frowns, "I haven't said anything to Sora. But I have loved her for so long it's rolling back like a habit.", he hesitantly looks up and sees a bunch of disappointed faces, "But if it had been the previous me, I'd have gone to her in a snap but I'm changed now."

Mingyu gives a wry smile when looking at the relief washing over his friends.

"Here's the real deal begins. We have been married for over two years, in a few months we'd be hitting the three year mark. It's a long time right?", he sweeps his gaze across the large wedding frame of you both on the wall, "Instead of being a couple, I feel like living with a roommate. No feelings involved. She's stoic, nonchalant and even inconsiderate sometimes, even if I think that there's something between us, her actions act as bucket of cold water on those thoughts. I understand that not everyone is the same and I agree that Y/N has changed but somehow we're still at the starting point and it's starting to tire me out. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this marriage--"

There's a sudden thud and all the necks turn in unison only to find you standing by the hallway and your bag on the ground.

Heartbreak is one thing but the humiliation is another form of descend you're currently facing. You return your home only to find your husband shit talking about how unhappy he is in this marriage to his friends.

And the biggest loss turns out to be how you're the only one who thought that it's a happy, perfect marriage. Your husband isn't wrong when he said that you're inconsiderate.

Tears prick at your eyes but aren't you stoic, nonchalant so why should the people infront of you get the leverage to see you vulnerable? They shouldn't, so you pick up your bag and walk past them going straight into the guest room.

There are continuous knocks on the door. Your phone keeps ringing but you pay mind to none. Your mind only reels the words of your husband from before.

The previous you would have stomped out of the house but now, you can't. The situation has changed, the circumstances are different and you are totally lost.

Because there's a life is growing inside you. The reason you decided to return home tonight but your second attempt at letting Mingyu know that he's gonna be a father cracks again. The first attempt was the night where Mingyu chose Sora over you. He doesn't want you, would he want to raise a child with you?

Maybe you shouldn't have gotten married, maybe you shouldn't have fallen in love with your husband and maybe she's better, the previous you who knew you're undesirable, who knew that people like you are unlovable, who very well knew how to maintain a boundary.

You have lost the track of time but you sure can hear voices from the other side of the door. You think attachment is something you can't effort, you are not people's people.

So that's how what Mingyu had said, you turned into his roommate. Since that day, you have settled in the guest room. You don't get out of your room unless it's an emergency. You leave for work early and return home at late hours.

You haven't spoken to Mingyu since that day. You've rejected all his advances of striking a conversation. But you're thankful to him for making you food everyday because you can't eat anything else, it makes you nauseous.

"Hey, are you okay?", Minghao asks worried as he takes a sit beside you at the cafeteria of the office, "You have been throwing a lot."

You nod your head, avoiding his gaze, "I'm fine."

Minghao doesn't buy your words but you both settle in the comfortable silence and until he gasps.

You cock brows looking at him.

"Are you pregnant?", he gasps, "Oh my god."

You freeze and slap your hand over his mouth and proceed to tell him everything that has been happening.

"So Mingyu doesn't know yet. And he's being a jerk ever since his ex-girlfriend returned.", Minghao says in anger. He sweeps a gaze across your face and his eyes soften, "You love him, don't you?"

You avoid his gaze again, you don't answer him.

A sad smile graces on his lips as he reminiscences the past. How he had practically clinched himself in your life. How he had fallen in love with you but knew that you wouldn't reciprocate, the reason why he disappeared abruptly from your life years ago. The apologies are always on the tip of his tongue for leaving you alone, for creating the safe place but also leaving it void.

"You know you shouldn't be taking stress. I know it's not easy but I'd suggest for you both to sort things out, atleast for the baby.", he says patting your back in a comforting manner, "If Mingyu does anything to hurt you again, tell me I'll beat him for you."

"Thanks Hao.", you say smiling.

"Also let me know if Soonyoung bothers you. I'll handle him as well."

You shake your head laughing, "He insufferable Hao, you'll give up."

"We'll see that.", he smiles softly, "But do plan on telling him. Uncle also needs to know, he'd be so happy."

"I want the baby's father to know first. Then I'll tell everyone.", you assure him.

Mingyu knows he went overboard. He knows he was being an absolute asshole when he uttered those baseless words in your favour.

Maybe he should never have compared the type of relationship he had with Sora with the one he's having with you. It's a grave mistake and the lack of your presence is taking a toll on him. But he understands if you need space or even don't want to see his face. He's willing to give you all that but he plans to apologise to you and if you don't forgive him, he'd understand.

Work is hectic but the situation at home is feverish. He has been getting earfuls from all of his friends and family, specially Minhee. She has been giving him shit routinely.

His reverie breaks when he receives a text from you. Hurriedly opening the text, his eyes widen with a mixture of horror and anticipation.

'Come home as soon as possible. I have something to tell you.'

His mind could only hint at it being something ominous.

You pace around the entire house nervously.

"Mingyu, I'm pregnant. You're gonna be father."

You shake head at the selection of words.

"Congratulations! You're going to be a dad!"

Sounds too exciting for an unplanned pregnancy.

"You're pull out game was weak. Guess what I'm pregnant."

Too snappy, rejected.

"Kim Mingyu, you're pregnant, I will be-- wait what no-- I'm pregnant, we're expecting."

You sit down pulling your hair in frustration.

After another hundred million failed rehearsals you sort to say whatever your heart would feel like at the moment in his presence.

But where's Mingyu? You check the clock, it's past his work hours. Maybe he's running late for some reason. It's your third attempt to tell him about your pregnancy and you hope that you'd succeed this time.

Your phone rings and you would never have guessed that your world would come crashing down.

You stand with head your head bowed down the entire time at the funeral hall. The band wrapped around your arm acts as a constant reminder that you're the chief mourner. You don't raise your head, not ready the see the picture that's kept on the board.

The heart attack was so brutal that it claimed the life of your uncle without a chance of revival. When you were informed he was already gone.

No last words, no goodbyes. Now you're left with only his photo and memories. You walk into the room where his body is kept as you've made a special request to let you meet him before he's taken into the coffin.

He's almost unrecognisable as you sit beside the body. Gently caressing his head, you finally let the tears fall.

"You were so eager to meet everyone that you left me alone here.", you sob, "What do I do without you now?"

You caress his cheeks gently, "Whatever I have become it's because of you. Even though I was the reason they died, you took me in and raised me like our own."

"I have something to tell.", your hands place themselves back on his head, "I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a grandparent. Tell mom, dad and aunt that I have grown up. Tell Sejin that he's gonna be an uncle."

You spend some more last moments with your uncle before there's a knock on the door. You quickly wipe the tears and look up to see Mingyu standing at the threshold.

"It's time.", he says solemnly.

You nod and look back at your uncle saying, "Thank you for everything. Have a nice reunion with everyone up there. Forgive me if I have been a bad daughter. Goodbye comrade."

You don't like the pitiful look everyone throws at you. You hate it, it claws on your skin and you feel like throwing up. Running into the washroom, you sit down opening the lid to empty your stomach when you feel your hairs being pulled back in gentle grip.

It's Mingyu, you know even though even without seeing him. He doesn't care about entering a ladies washroom when he has to look for you.

"Here, drink some water.", he uncaps the bottle and offers it to you.

He's presence is somewhat comforting, he makes things bearable. Your uncle is laid beside the rest of your family and you request everyone to be left alone. It's night time when you leave the place only to see Mingyu waiting for you.

There's silence throughout the ride back to home, no words spoken when he makes you eat something he cooked when you were showering, unspoken words when you go back your room and he goes back to his.

You mourn for days and while you do so you take notice of a lot of things.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for that day. I didn't mean anything I said, I was just being an idiot.", Mingyu  says after barging into your room one night because he had enough. He decides he won't let you suffer alone anymore.

You nod your head, "It's okay.", your short and curt reply doesn't settle well with your husband.

"I know one apology isn't enough and I understand if you won't forgive me but please let me be there for you.", he pleads closing the gap and taking your hands within his. His eyes searches for your face and his brows crease when he finds you avoiding eye contact.

You pull back your hands out of his grip, "I can take care of myself, Mingyu."

Your call of name rings oddly in his ear. It's rare for you to call him by name, it's always husband when throwing banter or Gyu while being affectionate.

Affectionate? His mind reels in the moment. Aren't you unexpressive then how could his mind produce that word in your wake?

"I'm tired. Let's call it a night.", you say poised, "There's no need for an apology. Everyone has the right to voice out about anything they don't like."

Mingyu feel like he's not your husband rather an office colleague. Your tone is so formal and dry. Your words cut him like a dagger. He wonders if he has caused damaged beyond repair.

It's so fucked up that he wants to hold you sleep, say sweet nothings to calm your senses but he's afraid to ask you to come back to the master bedroom.

So he lets you bask in your own company. He'll interfere with your personal space for sure one day, hustle in forcefully if you don't let him, no matter how rude and irritating it is, he'll mend the broken bond.

His heart breaks when he notices that you don't look him in the eyes anymore. You always had a strong lively gaze, but they are now hollow. You don't call him when you're struggling to open the jar, you don't ask for him when you can't reach something kept on the top shelf.

His friends are all dejected at how you don't indulge them anymore, they're sad at how they don't get to see you nowadays.

Mingyu had attempted to gauze you out of the coop by inviting the guys to the apartment. But you had locked yourself in the room the whole time.

His parents lament on how he ruined something so beautiful, his sister cries at how you don't communicate with even her nowadays.

He's already going crazy and Sora's pestering him by showing up outside his workplace often or making thousands of phone calls almost everyday, makes him ponder upon how was he even in love with her at some point.

He regrets again, now that he can clearly see the difference. You are you, the actual indifference you're showing is now and it's driving him crazy.

He wants to fix this. He needs to fix both of you because he needs you.

You're in the middle of some paperwork when there's a knock on the cabin door.

Soonyoung enters and the look that you give him is sharp enough to scare him off.

"How have you been doing?"

"Breathing fine, alive."

He should have taken the clue and left but it's Soonyoung and he lives as if he has nine lives.

"We miss you, please stop ghosting us."

"I'm not ghosting anyone."

"Minhee is miserable."

The writing stops, your hand halts for a moment before continuing. Soonyoung knocks on the table demanding your attention on him.

You sigh, having no option but look at him.

"You can be mad at your husband but we didn't do anything, Y/N. I don't even know Mingyu, I'm your friend."

The corner of your lips threaten to curl up. Your heart twinges and you smile sadly, "It's better to be prepared ahead so that you all will get accustomized to it later. Attachments are always painful."

Soonyoung looks at you quizzically, "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing.", you drew yourself back in the papers, "I have a meeting in ten minutes, I need to go over these documents before that."

Soonyoung maybe callous at times but somehow seeing you and hearing your words today makes him bothered.

Another weak passes and you are packing your bags the entire time little by little, unknown to Mingyu because your door is always locked. Your office room is almost empty except for the systems. When Mingyu's not at home, you roam in the bedroom, swaying in the memories you both made there. You lay on the bed, sniffing the pillows because they smell like him.

You crave his touch all the time and him being in your vision doesn't help at all when you could sense the longing in his eyes.

Mingyu doesn't know that you've stolen one of his shirts and a hoodie. He should never find out.

Your soul knows. It tells you that it’s time to distance yourself from those who no longer align with you mentally, emotionally or physically.

"I can't stay here.", you whisper to yourself as you continue to pack rest of the items.

"I'm cursed.", you frantically wipe your tears, "People related to me keep dying."

Your body shakes, eyes producing another batch of fresh tears, "No one should be associated with me. I need to cut everyone out of my life for their sake. Without me, they'd be safe."

You heave a breath, in an attempt to calm yourself, "Mingyu doesn't like me anyways. I'm just a burden. He'll be free once I leave, he can be with Sora.", you rub your chest as it stings, "He'll be happy and that is what I want."

Your gaze instinctively lands on your belly, hands gently rubbing circles, "I promise, even if we won't be together, me and your dad will try our best to raise you. I can't wait to meet you, to hold you."

Mingyu, on the other hand is set on winning you back. He knows you don't like anything extravagant, so he plans to surprise you out a romantic date at home. He's ready to go to the lengths to make you forgive him. He craves your presence, your touch, your shy smiles, the way you call him when you want something from him.

He wants to love you, wants to make love to you. He has been dreaming a lot about starting a family with you. He wants the little versions of you both running around the house. When his friends took the initiative to show him how he has changed and it's for better he knows that it's true. He wonders if all the frustrations were because his heart wasn't ready to seek out the real feelings.

But now he has figured it all out, he likes you, likes you a lot. So he wants this marriage to work out.

He hopes for you to like him back. So who's gonna tell him the truth?

Some free time at work and he's watching new recipes to cook for you. Before going to bed, he's open the phone gallery and goes over your pictures, the pictures which are candid, the ones in which you posed, the best where he's with you in them.

Would you like it, if he throws pebble at your window and serenades you at the middle of the night? Would it be a good idea if goes down on his knees because he hasn't done it before and know he wants to.

Mingyu is all giddy making up scenarios in his head. He wishes to watch them all happen successfully.

"Are you having mood swings?", Jeonghan asks him one day when everyone gathers at the former's home, "Or do you have dissociative identity disorder? You were regretting getting married to her some weeks back and now you're saying that you like her?"

Junhui is grumpy, he takes a look at Mingyu and smacks him hard on his head causing the later to scream out in pain.

"He claims he is the most closest to Y/N and he is grieving because she is not responding to his texts.", Seokmin clarifies and eyes Mingyu in disbelief, "Seriously dude, what's wrong with you? How can you mess up this bad?"

Before Mingyu could speak up, Hansol interjects, "How hard it is to sort out your feelings? How could you even utter such ridiculous things about her when you know how difficult it had been for her, the whole life. Now she even lost her uncle. Imagine listening to your husband yapping about how much he dislikes you when you think he is one you can lean on? And that too instead of voicing out your mind to her first, she heard you telling it to us."

Hansol is a calm man, he never loses his cool except for some situations and this being one of it.

"It's not only me and Jun. Everyone is upset.. I know I'm making it sound bigger, we know that she is your wife, first and our friend, second but we can see that even though she never shows it she cares a lot. I'll tell you no one has ever entertained me constantly to help me, not even you guys. She even suggested me tools that she thought might help me with the editing though she had to invest time on getting to that point. She gifted Jun a diffuser as the previous one was causing him throat irritation but he was too stubborn to discard a newly bought machine."

Seokmin adds up to Hansol, "Didn't she help you with the paperwork late at night even though you both work in an entirely different industry? I'm sorry but did Sora ever do that being in the same line of work? No right. If you would have noticed she has always tried to accomodate herself within us even when it was difficult, it was all new to her."

Mingyu sinks his face into the palm of his hands, as he says regretfully, "I made a huge mistake. I let my intrusive thoughts win and ended up hurting her."

"What if it's too late to fix things?", Soonyoung speaks, his vision dazed as your words from before keeps reeling in his mind, "You should resolve the matters before it's too late."

The following week is hectic for Mingyu. The clients are visiting and everyone has to stay late attending them. It's a whole damn hustle, draining the employees out. The week goes on and out with him spending most of the time in office when all he wants is to go home just to see your face.

It's the last day of the visit and Mingyu thanks the heavens. He's usually patient but now all he wants is to avail the comfort of his home.

It's around one at night but unlike other times the hallway is lit in dim lights flooding  into the dining. There's an eerie silence and something unpleasant awaits.

"Let's get divorced."

When Mingyu came home late at that night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.

Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. He almost misses your words. If not for your next words, he would think he's hallucinating.

"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."

Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.

"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"

Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing its third anniversary. Do you really want to be tied in this marriage?"

Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words. He knows its not because of something he had said that day.

A familiar set of papers lying on the table catches his attention. His gaze then turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.

"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.

"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce. Oh, you already have Jeonghan."

As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.

"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear his voice laced in frustration, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."

You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act now that I know the truth."

Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.

"You signed a contract with my uncle in exchange for marrying me.", you chuckle bitterly, "All you wanted was the stocks of the company uncle owned, a goddamn promotion, this house, everything else but me. I was never on the list. I was just a pawn. I don't know what my uncle saw in you to desperately marry me off to you. I hope all of this was worth it. The stocks must have passed down to you smoothly as it can only be acquired by someone working in the company. You can keep this house, keep everything."

"Y/N--"

"I don't wanna hear anything. I was waiting for you to come back so that I could make you aware that you're busted. I'll to go bed."

Mingyu reaches out for you again but you lay out a hand, "Please, I'm tired."

"O-Okay.", Mingyu backs down noticing the resignation in your demeanor, "But we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."

But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[reve-writes]

—the set-up; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1,8k words. ʚ from this request. | three times the crows plan to set you and kaz up + the one time they find out you're married. ʚ fluff; the crows are featured (incl. wesper & helnik ship); kaz's touch aversion isn't featured. ʚ a/n this has been sitting in the drafts for a bit. ive been suffering down the leon brainrot hole (honestly an excellent one to fall into). kaz calls reader schatje (i have a fic where he does this. i chose schatje because ketterdam is loosely inspired from 1500s-1700s amsterdam!). i wrote this in a goofy way honestly.

one. he smiles.

Wylan fiddles with jars and tubes filled with an assortment of chemicals—some of them tend to explode, all of them horrible smelling. He's supposed to be on guard duty and he prefers it over running around guns blazing alongside Jesper—as much as he loves the sharpshooter, gunshots give him a lot of anxiety.

He peers into the room where most of the work is happening.

You are poring over stacks of documents, eyes scanning quickly top-to-bottom to find relevant information. Kaz has his ear pressed against the front of a safe, gloved hand twisting the lock. You move around him in the cramped office space with relative ease, grabbing more files to read on the desk.

It doesn't take long for the safe to swing open.

“No safe is safe from Kaz Brekker, the safe-cracker, huh?” you comment. A light, teasing smile decorates your lips.

“Please never say that sentence again.”

To Wylan's surprise, the ever-frowning Dirtyhands smiles. Not the half-hearted hospitable smile he occasionally gives out, or the scary half-sneer half-smirk that is so intimidating it scares even Wylan sometimes. No, a genuine, amused smile. It is so unnatural that he has to look away, a hand clasped over his mouth in shock.

When he tells Jesper, the taller man mirrors his reaction, dark eyes blown wide and jaw unhinged.

“He smiled?” Jesper gives an incredulous stare as if Wylan has just told him that he is a member of the Council of Tide—which is impossible with Wylan's lack of Grisha ability, let alone tidemaking. “He smiled over that?”

Wylan nods enthusiastically.

“We are talking about the same Kaz?”

“Are there any other Kaz that we know?” Wylan sighs.

“Well, no—”

“I think we have to proceed with the plan,” Wylan ponders. Jesper blinks widely.

“The plan?”

“Nina's plan!” Wylan looks at Jesper as if he's just gotten a strike of inspiration, hand in the air, pointing at nothing in particular. “Operation Kaz and ____. Remember?”

Jesper remembers. It was so ridiculous that it remains impossible to remove from his memory to this day, even though it was mentioned in passing.

Nina, flushed red from too many drinks, suddenly shoots her hand up, flailing it limply. The founder of the idea seems to have a plan ready to set in motion.

“We are the gods of love!” She drunkenly declares, free hand moves to tap Wylan's cheeks repeatedly. “And as the benevolent gods that we are, our first mission is them.”

Nina pushes Wylan's face towards you and Kaz, sat at the bar, deep in conversation. The rest of the Crows followed suit, realising Nina's suggestion. She stumbles over drunkenly and with little-to-no care on making it look as natural or accidental as she can, "trips" over her foot and falls forward.

You take the brunt of the force, being pushed forward that you fall onto Kaz. The latter glares at Nina, hand coming to your shoulder to steady you.

“My bad.... It seems I've lost my balance,” she slurs. “Oh! Would you look at that? The two of you would make quite a pair, don't you think so, Matthias?”

Matthias raises an eyebrow, already hauling Nina with him to get back to their table.

“Poor Helvar,” says Kaz simply, nudging you to get back on the barstool.

“He doesn't seem to mind,” you retort, noting Matthias' loving gaze as he escorts Nina.

It doesn't take long before the chaos settles, leaving you and Kaz, still engaging in conversation as the last patrons leave the Crow Club.

“We would make a good pair, huh?” You tease, reaching over to brush your hand against his, leather soft under your palm. “You think so?”

Kaz looks at you pointedly, tugging your left hand towards him, fingers pressing on the small diamond adorning your ring finger. “Would I have given you this, if I didn't?”

Smooth with his words without even trying. A trait you find both annoying and endearing after all the years you've been together.

“I mean you have a lot of diamonds lying around—”

“Schatje.”

“Yes?” All train of thought immediately halts on its tracks. The petname has a hold over you that he oh-so-often uses as leverage. You pout. “Stop distracting me.”

He smiles—soft and uncharacteristic, contradictory to the harsh rasp of his voice and the rough scars on his skin. He smiles a smile he reserves only for your eyes, and you're falling for it, a hundred times over.

two. the demjin.

You don't like when Kaz gets like this—all wrung up over a waivable matter. It reminds you a lot of what he had to be before, the things he had to do and what Dirtyhands actually stood for. Not at all akin to the Kaz Brekker you know—the one who immediately comes whenever one of your crew is threatened, the one who stays up with you as you wait for the rest of your little heist crew to return, the one who goes out of his way to collect little trinkets to bring home to you.

You are hurt, shallow cuts all over your body from a little dagger scuffle with a mercenary, but you're a member of the Dregs—this, you can take. A little Heartrender magic and some bandages, you will recover in no time.

“You're back.”

Kaz stops and you look over him to find his knuckles bloodied, hair stuck out of place and clothes disheveled.

“You're alright, schatje?”

His room at the Slat isn't big contrary to popular belief. He sinks into his chair with a huge sigh. You're watching him three steps away from the edge of his bed.

“What did you do?”

He shrugs, tugging his coat off. “Business.”

“You went after them.”

“It was one part of the business.” He pulls at his gloves, shedding them into the trash—too bloodied for him to bother cleaning. “Are you sure you're alright?”

You tuck your hands into your elbows, displeasure visible across your features. “Are you?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Kaz.”

“They deserved it,” he stubbornly says. “I had to make sure they know not to involve themselves with us. You understand. Besides, I'm alright.”

“I do understand,” you relent. It is business. The Barrell doesn't stop for poets or musicians or lovers, no, it thrives off of the back of violence, taking an eye for an eye. “I just wish that you were here when I woke up.”

His shoulders loosen and he is your Kaz again. Not the one molded by Ketterdam, birthed at its harbour. He's the man so in love that he will dry the seas for you if you say the word. Kaz takes your hands. They are warm on his skin and his heart swells.

“I am sorry, schatje.”

You kneel in front of him, leaning your elbows on his thighs to press a brief kiss on his lips. “Let's stay off business for a while.”

“Kaz?” A sound outside the door, followed by three raps. “Are you in there?”

“He is, Jesper. Give us a moment,” you reply.

You hear hushed whispers—both low voices, so you assume it's Wylan. Your suspicion is confirmed when the second voice sounds from behind the door.

“No, we—no, Jes—don't have anything urgent. We simply wanted to know if he is well. Take your time. We'll be going now.”

“Good night, Wylan,” you reply, immediately hearing fading footsteps soon after.

“Fifty kruge says they're already together,” says Jesper, out of your earshot.

Wylan rolls her eyes. “Fifty on them not dating yet.”

Jesper immediately clasps Wylan's hand with a loud “Deal!”

iii. the marketplace.

“Busybodies,” Kaz complained, walking a step behind you as you're treading through the Ketterdam food market. “They are not even hiding. In broad daylight. How have they never gotten caught before?”

“Kaz, my love.” You are trying not to laugh as you're picking and choosing fruits. “They usually do a better job on actual missions.”

They refer to your five lovely friends who have decided to tail you as you're coming down to the market. Kaz is the first to take notice—blurry figures moving erratically ten steps behind you.

“I should assign them something to do instead of... whatever it is they're currently doing.”

“They're curious.” You shrug, handing over a few slips of Kruge to the seller and leaving with your bag five apples heavier. “We've been acting suspicious lately. They'll find out soon enough.”

“I'll bet Inej finds out first.” Kaz nudges your fingers with his, taking the bag from you as he matches his step with yours. “The Wraith does a better job at spying.”

“My bet is Matthias.” An unlikely one. He's probably the least nosy out of the five.

Suddenly, you're pulled into a small nook, squuezed between buildings and he presses a kiss on your lips. One turns to two and you're smiling like a lovesick fool when he pulls away.

“We're being followed and you pull this?”

“Schatje, our pursuers are horrendously bad at this.” He shrugs, pulling away. You resume your trek through the market. “Look. They've lost us.”

iv. the marriage certificate.

“Fake IDs,” Kaz says, pointing at the towering Fjerdan. “You'll be collecting them from Anika.”

Matthias doesn't mind running errands, although he does think that he'll be better suited for physical fights other than fetching papers, but he doesn't argue. It seems he is doing more than simply fetching papers though.

“That is real?” He asks Anika, pointing at a marriage certificate she has on her desk. Marriage certificates are mundane enough not to warrant this type of reaction, but it is the name that shocks even him to the core. Kaz Brekker and you, married?

“As real as can be around here.” Anika scrambles to hide it away. “Here are your IDs. Don't tell anyone about it.”

In Matthias' defense, he doesn't end up telling just anyone. He tells Nina and Nina is the one telling everyone else. Within a week, every member of the Crows have known about it.

Wylan hands Jesper slips of fifty kruge, grumbling that this is unfair. Nina looks like spring has just arrived. Inej is probably the least reactive—but that is because she's already found out long before the others. She's the Wraith after all. Matthias is anxious. For all everyone knows, he is the one responsible for the news.

You strut into the dining room, seeing everyone gathered and raise an eyebrow.

“Why are you all here?”

“We want to ask—”

Before Nina can finish her sentence, Jesper blurts out. “You're married?”

You chuckle, shrugging. “You found out.”

“How long?”

“Kaz? Really?”

“How did that happen?”

A series of questions that you don't actually answer. You stand there, leaning on the back of one of the wooden chairs situated in the room—remorseless to your very core.

“Ask him about it.”

That ends the discussion. None of them will actually ask him about it and even if any of them actually finds the courage to, the likelihood of Kaz answering anything that's not a sarcastic remark or a threat is close to none.

“How did you find out anyway?”

Everyone points towards Matthias and to the Fjerdan's horror, Nina's pointer finger finds him, too.

You only smile, silently planning to brag to your spouse that you've won your bet.

[ ].

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN ━━ Swimming in Sin

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.6K

☆ ━ warnings: homophobia, religious themes, mentions of conversation therapy, emotional & physical abuse (it’s not much but if you’re uncomfortable reading it, don’t)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: imma just leave this here

IT’S MONDAY now, and Dani sits in the passenger seat of Paige’s car, the engine off but the faint hum of life around them in the parking lot loud enough to feel present. Students mill about the edges of the lot, but the two of them are hidden away in Paige’s old car. The smell of Paige’s half-eaten sandwich lingers between them, mingling with the faint scent of Dani’s lavender hand lotion.

Paige slouches dramatically in the driver’s seat, her legs stretched out so far her sneakered feet almost hit the pedals. Her sandwich sits abandoned in her lap, crumbs dotting the fabric of her sweatpants, and her face is twisted into a scowl.

“I mean, two and a half weeks,” Paige groans, leaning her head back against the seat. “It’s so dumb. No leaving the house, no seeing any of my friends, no hanging out with you. What am I, bro, twelve?”

Dani picks at the edges of the granola bar in her hand, peeling back the wrapper bit by bit. She keeps her voice light as she says, “What’d you think was gonna happen? He just lets you off the hook? You threw a party, Paige—and never even tried to get permission. And you were completely wasted.”

Paige rolls her eyes so hard Dani thinks she might actually sprain something. “It’s not like I killed someone,” she mutters. “And it’s not like I wasn’t gonna clean up after. Besides, you were there to take care of me. He should’ve been thanking you, not grounding me.”

Dani shakes her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. “I don’t think that’s how he sees it.”

“Well, he’s being dramatic,” Paige insists, sitting up now, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. “Two and a half weeks of this? How am I supposed to not hang out with you for that long? I get separation anxiety!”

Dani shrugs, fighting a smile at the last sentence, though the thought tugs at her too. She’s upset about it, of course she is, but she’d seen this coming. In fact, she’d half-expected Bob to ban her from their house altogether after Saturday. Two weeks of grounding, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t seem so bad.

“You’ll survive,” Dani says, trying to sound casual even though she knows Paige won’t let it drop that easily. “Besides, it’s only two weeks. And we can still hang out at lunch and in Lit every day. And we can FaceTime whenever you want.”

Paige groans dramatically, as if the suggestion alone is an insult. “But it’s not the same,” she whines, slumping back against the seat again. “I can’t cuddle you over FaceTime, Dani. Or kiss you.” She leans over suddenly, draping herself across the center console so that her head lands against Dani’s shoulder. Dani stiffens for a moment, glancing out the window to make sure no one’s looking, before relaxing.

“It’s not the same,” Paige repeats, her voice muffled against Dani’s jacket.

Dani sighs, tilting her head down to rest her cheek against the top of Paige’s head. She feels the familiar weight of her girlfriend pressing against her, grounding her, even as Paige continues to pout. “I know it’s not the same,” Dani says softly.

She shifts, her free hand moving to tilt Paige’s face up toward hers. Paige’s blue eyes, always so clear and striking, look impossibly—and dramatically—sad now, and it tugs at something deep in Dani’s chest. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to Paige’s lips. It’s quick, barely more than a brush, but it’s enough to feel the way Paige melts against her.

When Dani pulls back, Paige lets out a little whine, her lips still parted as though she’s waiting for more. Dani grins despite herself, resting her forehead against Paige’s for a moment. “Only two weeks,” she murmurs.

“Two weeks too long,” Paige mutters, her eyes closing as she leans into Dani’s touch.

Dani chuckles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Paige’s face. “You’ll survive,” she repeats, though this time it feels more like a promise than a statement.

THE DRIVEWAY is quiet as Dani parks, the hum of the engine cutting off abruptly and leaving her in stillness. She exhales, her breath visible in the icy Minnesota night air, and slouches forward for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. The gymnastics meet had been a long one—nearly three hours of standing, crouching, and angling for the perfect shots. Her back aches, her legs are sore, and all she wants is to crawl into bed and disappear under her blankets.

But there’s homework waiting, a mountain of it she’s been putting off. AP Calculus, a Lit essay, and some editing work for the yearbook photos she’d taken tonight. Dani groans quietly to herself, leaning back in her seat before finally mustering the energy to grab her photography bag from the passenger seat.

The cold hits her immediately as she steps out of the car, sharp and unforgiving, slicing through her sweatshirt and sinking into her skin. She hurries up the walkway, her sneakers crunching against the thin layer of frost on the ground. Her fingers fumble with the keys, and she’s relieved when the door finally swings open, the familiar warmth of home enveloping her.

Dani kicks off her shoes, letting them fall in a heap by the door, and shrugs off her coat, tossing it onto the rack. Her keys find their place on the hook by the wall, and she drops her photography bag by the entryway, too tired to care about putting it away properly. Her stomach grumbles softly as she pads toward the kitchen, craving something quick and easy before she tackles the rest of her night.

But the second she steps into the kitchen, she freezes.

Her dad is sitting at the table, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes already locked on hers.

The look he gives her is unyielding, sharp enough to cut through the fog of her exhaustion. His mouth is set in a firm line, his jaw tight, and there’s a weight to his gaze that makes Dani’s stomach twist.

She knows.

She immediately knows.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She doesn’t need an explanation. She can feel it in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.

He knows about her and Paige.

Dani’s body goes cold. It’s not just the March air still clinging to her from outside, nor the exhaustion weighing her limbs from the long day. This is something else entirely—something that feels like dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, clawing its way up her throat.

She forces herself to meet her dad’s eyes, but it’s like staring into a storm—chaos barely contained behind the sharp lines of his face, his clenched jaw, his rigid posture. He’s keeping his tone measured, his voice low, but somehow that makes it worse. Scarier, almost, than if he were yelling at her.

When he gestures to the chair across from him and says, “I think we should have a talk,” her legs nearly buckle.

Her hands are trembling as she pulls out the chair and sinks into it. She sits on the edge of the seat, stiff and awkward, her fingers finding their way to the edge of the table to anchor herself. It doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real. This isn’t happening—not here, not now. But the look on his face tells her otherwise.

It feels like an out-of-body experience, that the thing she’s feared the worst over the past few months is finally coming true.

“I was talking to Beau’s father earlier today,” Dani’s father begins, his voice cool and detached. “You know—your apparent boyfriend.”

The way he spits the word out makes Dani flinch, her nails digging into the underside of the table. Her heart pounds so loudly she’s sure he can hear it. She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing.

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him since the fall,” he continues. “You know, since he switched companies and we no longer worked together. But today, he told me some very… interesting things.”

His eyes are sharp as they pin her in place, his words deliberate. “Do you want to know what they are?”

Dani can’t respond. Her throat is dry, her chest tight, and the room feels like it’s closing in on her. She can only stare at the table, her fingers now nervously picking at her nails beneath it.

When she doesn’t answer, he presses, his voice dropping to something sharper. “Except, I think you already know what they are, Danielle. So, do you want to tell me yourself?”

Dani’s breath catches. Every instinct tells her to run, to get up and leave before this gets worse, but her body is frozen, glued to the chair. Her father is watching her so intently, waiting for her to break, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can hold it together.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she swallows the lump in her throat and forces herself to speak. Her voice is small, barely audible. “Beau and I broke up.”

The admission feels like a death sentence, but she can’t take it back now.

Her dad’s laugh is cold, devoid of any humor, and it makes her stomach churn. “Yeah, you did,” he says, his tone dripping with disdain. “In November, apparently. Over four fucking months ago, Danielle!”

He slams his fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. Dani jumps, her pulse skyrocketing, and the first sting of tears pricks at her eyes.

“I just…” she begins, her voice breaking, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeats, his laughter sharper this time, almost unhinged. “Oh, we haven’t even scratched the surface on that.”

Dani can’t bring herself to look at him anymore. She stares at her lap, blinking back tears, wishing she could disappear.

“You want to know the most interesting thing Mr. Hudson told me today?” he says, his voice cutting through the silence.

Dani doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“He told me that Beau said you broke up with him for a girl.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. He lets them settle, lets them twist like a knife in her chest before he repeats himself, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A girl.”

Paige.

Dani’s lungs constrict as her dad’s words pile onto her like stones, each one heavier than the last. Her heart pounds so loudly in her ears she can barely hear him, but the venom in his voice is unmistakable.

“I didn’t want to believe him. Not even a little bit,” he says, his voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of something raw. He shakes his head, as if trying to erase the very idea from his mind. “I couldn’t help but think to myself that no, my little girl wouldn’t do this—not again. I thought you’d learned your lesson, gotten past these types of things.”

Her stomach twists violently at the phrase these types of things, a wave of shame and dread crashing over her. She can’t meet his eyes anymore. She focuses on a crack in the table, blinking furiously to keep her vision clear. But it doesn’t work. A tear slips down her cheek, then another. She wipes at them quickly, desperate to hide any sign of weakness.

“I thought that maybe the Hudson boy made this up,” he continues, his tone brittle, almost pleading. “To save face, you know? To make himself feel better about the breakup. I refused to believe it because I’ve been so proud of you, Danielle. So proud of all the progress you’ve made.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and it’s like a knife twisting in her gut. She feels the weight of his disappointment like an iron shackle around her neck, dragging her down.

And then he drops the pretense of restraint entirely. “But I came home,” he says, his voice growing sharper, harder. “I needed to figure it out for myself. So I went up to your bedroom and looked around. And sure enough, Beau Hudson was telling the truth. You did leave him for a girl. The same girl you nearly ruined your life for last summer!”

Dani’s breath hitches, panic clawing at her chest as he pulls items off the chair beside him, tossing them onto the table like damning evidence in a courtroom.

A Hopkins basketball sweatshirt. Paige’s sweatshirt. He must’ve found it in her closet.

The printed photo from last week’s state championship, where Paige’s mom had insisted on taking a picture of the two of them. In it, Dani and Paige are standing close, too close, their smiles wide and happy, the kind that only come from people who are comfortable in each other’s orbit. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Paige’s hand is wrapped around Dani’s waist.

A folded note with the initials PB scribbled on the front, the one Paige had slipped into her photography bag last week after practice.

More things follow: a pressed flower Paige had given her after a walk in the park, a ticket stub from the movie they’d gone to see together last month, a journal entry about Paige that Dani had foolishly written—her father must’ve ripped the page from the notebook. It’s all so mundane, these little artifacts of their relationship, but to her dad, they’re something else entirely.

All the air seems to leave Dani’s body as she stares at the pile. There’s no way out of this. None. He’s found everything.

Her dad begins pacing, his hand dragging down his face as his breathing grows heavier. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to physically outrun his own fury. He seems to be losing himself, his voice starting to rise, too.

“I thought we were past all of this!” he shouts, octaves echoing off the walls. “I thought you’d learned! I thought you’d grown! But here we are, right back at square one, and you’re still the same little sinner, getting caught up in all this gay bullshit again. It’s disgusting, Danielle.”

The words hit her like a slap to the face. She feels her cheeks burn, but it’s not from anger. It’s from humiliation, from the sheer weight of hearing him say the words out loud, like her existence is something filthy, something shameful.

Her breathing quickens, shallow and erratic, as he barrels on.

“I sent you to camp!” he yells, gesturing wildly as if the memory of it alone should be enough to set her straight. Truthfully, it might. “They told me they fixed you. They told me you got better, that you understood the weight of your actions, the power of God.” He pauses, running both hands through his hair, his eyes wide and wild. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Dani, I’m really gonna have to send you back there. Do you know how fucking embarrassing that is for you? That you’re gonna have to be sent back for a round two because you couldn’t get it through your thick fucking skull the first time?”

“No,” Dani whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her dad doesn’t hear her—or doesn’t care.

“I sacrificed so much to send you there!” he continues, his voice rising again. “And for what? For you to come back and make a mockery of this family all over again?”

“Please, no,” Dani says again, louder this time, but her voice wavers and cracks.

She can feel herself spiraling. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white. She can’t go back to camp. She can’t.

The memory of it flashes in her mind—cold, sterile rooms; endless hours of lectures about sin and shame; the suffocating, unrelenting pressure to repent for something she doesn’t even think is wrong. The thought of being trapped there again, of losing herself completely this time, is unbearable.

Dani feels herself sinking, her father’s tirade muffling into a dull roar as the panic grips her fully. Her breaths are shallow, too quick, and the edges of her vision start to darken. She clutches at the back of the chair, trying to steady herself, but the weight of his words is unbearable.

Not again. I can’t go back.

But his voice cuts through her spiraling thoughts like a blade. “Do you hear me, Danielle?” he shouts, slamming a hand onto the counter. “You’re going back. I don’t care what it takes. You need to fucking learn the severity of the sins you’ve been swimming in! I’ll send you on the next flight if I have to!”

The words snap something in her, a thread pulled too tight finally breaking. Her mind drags her back, unwillingly, to that first day at camp.

JUNE 2019

The air inside Mrs. Keating’s office is thick and stifling, a mix of lavender and cleaning solution that seems calculated to force calm. Dani sits in the chair across from her assigned counselor, her shoulders curled inward and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She doesn’t meet Mrs. Keating’s eyes, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the wall behind her.

Mrs. Keating looks calm, unnervingly so. She’s an older woman, her hair pinned back into a severe bun, her glasses perched neatly on her nose. There’s nothing about her that invites warmth or softness.

She’s quiet for a moment, studying Dani like she’s some kind of puzzle to be solved. “Do you know why you’re here, Danielle?” she asks finally, her voice calm and deliberate.

Dani shrugs, her movements small and tense. “Not sure,” she says, her tone clipped.

Mrs. Keating tilts her head slightly, like she’s trying to peer inside Dani’s mind. “You’re here because your actions have led you down a path of sin. A path that separates you from your family, from your faith, and from God.”

The words sit heavily in the room, and Dani shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Her pulse is steady but loud in her ears, and she can feel the way her body tightens at the mention of God. It’s always God with them. Like He’s some weapon to wield against her, not some presence she’s ever known to feel safe or loved by.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Dani says after a long pause. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s a firmness beneath it.

Mrs. Keating nods slowly, as though she expected the answer. “You believe that because the enemy—the Devil—has planted lies in your heart, Danielle. Lies that make what you’ve done feel natural, even good. But deep down, you know that it’s not. That’s why you feel guilt, isn’t it?”

Dani swallows hard. She doesn’t feel guilt—not about Paige, anyway. There’s guilt about other things, sure. About being sent here. About what it’s doing to her dad, about how she’s made everything so messy and complicated. But not about Paige.

Still, the way Mrs. Keating speaks gets under her skin. It’s calm, calculated. Like she’s dissecting Dani piece by piece and cataloging her flaws for some case study. Dani hates it. It makes her feel small. Exposed.

“I don’t feel guilty,” Dani says, but the words come out quieter than she intended. She’s not sure she even believes them.

“Of course you do,” Mrs. Keating counters smoothly, leaning forward slightly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Your father wouldn’t have sent you.”

That makes Dani flinch. Her father. The sharp sting of his disappointment still weighs heavily on her chest, pressing down in a way she can’t escape. His face when he’d told her she was going to camp had been full of anger, yes, but there had been something worse beneath it—something that looked like shame.

He hadn’t even looked at her when he dropped her off.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Dani mutters, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re going to talk about it, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says, her tone firm but still devoid of emotion. “Because this is the first step. You have to face the reality of your actions if you’re ever going to heal.”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. “There’s nothing to heal from,” she says, more forcefully this time before repeating, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mrs. Keating doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sits back in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on Dani like she’s waiting for something. Dani shifts under the weight of her gaze, but she doesn’t break the silence.

Finally, Mrs. Keating speaks. “Tell me about the girl.”

Dani’s chest tightens. She doesn’t look up.

“The one your father mentioned,” Mrs. Keating presses. “The one who led you astray.”

“She didn’t lead me astray,” Dani protests quickly, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.

Mrs. Keating doesn’t react to the outburst. “So you do feel something for her, then.”

Dani freezes, her stomach twisting into knots. She doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know what answer won’t be used against her later.

After a moment, she settles for, “There’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing. Paige isn’t wrong. What we had isn’t wrong.” Her tone is slightly more argumentative, more confrontational than usual. But she’s been sent to this unfamiliar, scary fucking place so she supposes she has a right to.

“What you had,” Mrs. Keating repeats, leaning forward slightly. “You speak as though it’s in the past. Is that because you already know it cannot last? That it is not sustainable?”

Dani’s jaw tightens, her teeth grinding together. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust herself to speak without snapping. She can feel her nails biting into her skin, but the sharp pain is grounding. It keeps her from falling apart completely.

Mrs. Keating takes the silence as an opening. “This is a safe space, Danielle. You can be honest here. Talk to me.”

Dani doesn’t talk to her. She doesn’t talk at all. She looks away, her gaze zeroing in on a jagged pattern on the wood flooring, eyes wide and unblinking. Her eyes burn, but she won’t let Keating see her cry. She won’t give her that satisfaction. She refuses.

Eventually, Mrs. Keating stands, the movement slow and deliberate. She walks around the desk and stops in front of Dani, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dani stiffens at the contact, trying to shrug the hand off, but Mrs. Keating’s grip is firm. It doesn’t hurt, not quite, but it feels invasive.

“You have a lot to learn here, Danielle Callan,” Mrs. Keating says quietly, her voice unshakable. “But that’s why you’re here. To learn. And you will.”

THE MEMORY lingers in Dani’s mind like a weight she can’t shake, thick and suffocating. Mrs. Keating’s calm voice echoes in her head, the grip on her shoulder a phantom pressure she swears she can still feel. She shakes her head slightly, trying to dislodge the thought, but it refuses to leave.

She can’t do it.

She can’t do it again.

Her dad’s voice cuts through her thoughts, sharp and furious. He’s been yelling for what feels like forever, pacing the length of the living room with heavy, deliberate steps. Every word he spits out feels like a lash against her skin, each syllable steeped in anger, in disbelief, in the kind of disappointment that makes Dani feel impossibly small.

“How could you do this to us again?” he barks, throwing his arms up. “After everything we went through, after everything you went through—this is how you repay us? By… by flaunting it like this? You didn’t even try to hide it this time, Danielle!”

Dani winces at his words, each one sinking into her chest like a stone. She stays seated on the hard chair, her hands balling into fists on her thighs. Her fingernails bite into her palms, the sharp sting grounding her, keeping her from unraveling completely.

He stops pacing suddenly, turning to face her with his hands on his hips. His eyes burn with conviction, his expression a mixture of frustration and bewilderment. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demands.

Dani’s breath catches in her throat. She can’t hold his gaze for long, can’t stand the way he’s looking at her, like she’s some broken thing he can’t figure out how to fix. Her eyes drop to her lap, and she shifts uncomfortably in the chair.

Her throat feels tight, her eyes burning with the threat of tears she refuses to let fall. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t—I…” she starts, trying to force the words out. “I can’t be fixed, Dad. This isn’t something that’s fixable.”

The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. She risks a glance at him, but his face is unreadable now, his mouth a firm line, his eyes locked on her.

So she keeps going, her voice trembling but steady enough to push through. “I didn’t choose to like other girls—like Paige—like that. It just… happened. I was born like this. I’ve had these thoughts since I was little. I can’t be fixed, can’t be changed. The—the ‘gay’ stuff you’re talking about can’t just be prayed away.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Dani thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s heard her. But then he straightens, his expression hardening, and he shakes his head. “You didn’t try hard enough,” he says firmly, his voice like steel. “You weren’t at camp long enough.”

The words ignite something in Dani, something sharp and bitter and raw. Her head snaps up, and for the first time, she meets his gaze head-on, her eyes flashing. Her voice is louder now, trembling with emotion she can’t contain.

“I did try!” she says, standing up as the chair scrapes against the wooden floor. “I tried so hard! I didn’t talk to Paige for months; I completely pushed her away. I dated Beau like you wanted me to. I did everything that was supposed to be right! And I was miserable for every second of it!”

Her voice cracks, and she feels the tears spill over now, hot and relentless. She swipes at them angrily but keeps going, because she has to. Because if she doesn’t, she might never say it again.

“I wasn’t happy that way!” she cries, her voice breaking with the weight of it all. “Can’t you just let me be happy, Dad?”

The tears come harder now, blurring her vision as she stares at him, her chest heaving with every breath. She’s willing him to understand, willing him to hear her, because all she wants—all she wants—is to be happy.

But the silence stretches on, suffocating, and Dani’s heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

Dani’s dad stares at her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as if he’s physically restraining himself from exploding again. His gaze feels like it’s drilling into her, searching for something, as if the right words might pull her back into the version of herself he’s convinced she’s lost.

Dani meets his eyes, even though everything in her screams to look away. They’re both standing now, face to face, close enough that she can see the tight lines of his jaw, the furrow between his brows that only deepens the longer he looks at her.

For a moment, she thinks maybe he’s going to soften, maybe he’ll finally hear her. But then his face hardens all over again, and his voice comes out sharp, slicing through the fragile silence.

“This is a sin,” he snaps, the words like venom on his tongue. “You think you know better than God? You think this is how He made you?” He throws up his hands, his voice rising with every word. “No, Danielle, you were not born this way. You were fine until… until her.”

Dani’s stomach drops. She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

He doesn’t stop. “It’s that Bueckers girl! She did this to you—she’s the one who ruined you!”

“No, she wasn’t!” Dani yells, her voice breaking halfway through. Her hands shake at her sides as she takes a step closer, her eyes wide and pleading. “Dad, no! Everything she did, I did too! There was no��� no influence, no manipulation! I’m telling you, this isn’t something you or anyone else can fix!”

But he’s already shaking his head furiously, his expression twisting into something cruel. “It can be fixed!” he shouts back, his voice booming in the small space. “I refuse to watch you go to hell over this! I refuse, do you hear me? You’re gonna go back to that camp, and they’re gonna help you, and you’re gonna stay long enough this time to be saved, I swear it!”

Dani feels like the floor is falling out from under her. “I’m not going back there!” she protests, her voice cracking with desperation. She thinks her nails might be digging so harsh into her that it’ll draw blood. She doesn’t care.

“Oh, yes, you will!” he yells back, his eyes flashing with a fire she’s never seen before.

“You can’t make me!” she throws back, her voice raw.

For all his negative words directed at her, all the screaming and yelling, all the accusations—there’s always been something that’s held him back from ever going past using his words. He’s never dared lay a hand on his daughter. But whatever that something was that stopped him has clearly been thrown out the window.

It’s so fast she almost doesn’t process it. His hand comes down, hard, across her face. The sound of the slap reverberates in the room, sharp and deafening, cutting through the air like a whip.

Her head jerks to the side from the force of it, her cheek immediately stinging, a fiery burn spreading across her skin. For a second, she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stand there, frozen.

Her hand comes up slowly, almost instinctively, to press against the spot where he struck her. Her palm is shaking as it touches her face, as if to confirm the reality of what just happened.

She stares at him, wide-eyed, her vision blurring with tears she refuses to let fall. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes now, a look she’s never seen before, and it chills her to her core.

Disbelief crashes over her like a wave, drowning out everything else. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stands there, her heart pounding in her ears, the sting on her cheek the only thing grounding her in the moment.

For a moment, Dani stands frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Her breath is shallow and ragged, her chest heaving like she’s run a marathon. Some people freeze in fear, others run. Fight or flight—it’s instinctual. And Dani has always been the kind to freeze up.

But the fear in her now is different, deeper, and it sinks into her chest like a weight she can’t dislodge. It’s not the kind of fear that paralyzes—it’s the kind that propels. She can’t stay here. Not with him like this. Not when she doesn’t know what he’ll do next.

Her gaze darts to the table, where her phone lies just within reach, and she finally forces her limbs into action. Her hand trembles as she lunges for it, but before her fingers can graze the sleek surface, her dad’s hand intercepts her.

“Dad—wait—”

Her words barely leave her mouth before he wrenches the phone away. She watches, helpless, as he hurls it across the kitchen with a furious motion. The phone hits the tile floor with a sickening crack, the sound cutting through her like a blade. Bits of glass scatter, catching the light, and the air feels heavier, oppressive, as if the walls themselves are closing in.

Dani lets out a strangled sob, the sound escaping her throat without permission. She takes a step back, and then another, her hands coming up instinctively to shield herself. Her back bumps against the edge of the counter, and she feels trapped, like an animal cornered by its predator.

Her father’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and commanding. “Do you hear me, Danielle?”

His tone isn’t loud anymore, but it’s worse that way. The quiet intensity of it crawls under her skin and wraps around her chest like a vice. She can’t look at him. She’s too scared of what she might see. Instead, her eyes dart toward the shattered remnants of her phone, then back to the floor, her body trembling.

“Dad, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her throat feels raw, her words choked by the tears she’s holding back. “You’re scaring me. Please, just—just stop.”

But he doesn’t stop. He moves closer, his footsteps deliberate, until he’s towering over her. Dani flinches as his hands reach out, but he doesn’t hit her again. Instead, his fingers clamp down on her shoulders, firm and unyielding.

“You’re going back tomorrow,” he says, his face mere inches from hers. His voice is calm now, too calm, but every syllable lands like a blow. “You’re going back. And you’re staying there until they fix you.”

Dani tries to shake her head, tries to move away from his grip, but he holds her in place. Her tears spill freely now, hot trails streaking down her cheeks.

“I can’t,” she chokes out, her voice cracking. “I can’t go back there. You don’t understand. I can’t do it again.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he snaps, his grip tightening. “Go upstairs. Pack your things.”

His words slam into her like a physical force, and she feels herself crumbling beneath the weight of them. She’s trembling, her knees weak, but she doesn’t move.

“Dad, I—”

“No.” His voice is steel. “Do you hear me, Danielle? Do what I said. Now.”

The intensity in his eyes pierces through her, and for a moment, all she can do is stare back at him, tears blurring her vision. She feels so small, so powerless, her body shrinking under the weight of his anger. The room is suffocating, the air thick and unrelenting.

When she finally finds her voice again, it comes out soft and broken. “I don’t want to go back.”

Her father doesn’t answer. He just stares at her, his expression set, his hands still gripping her shoulders as if holding her in place. The silence stretches between them, heavy and unyielding, and Dani feels herself breaking under it.

Dani doesn’t think; she just moves. Her father’s grip isn’t as strong as his words, and she twists out of it with a force she didn’t know she had. Her pulse pounds in her ears as she spots the keys hanging on the small hook by the door. They’re so close—just a couple of feet away.

She can make it. She has to make it.

Her body acts before her mind can catch up, surging forward. Her dad’s hands grab at her, but she slips free, adrenaline pushing her faster than his reaction time. Her fingers curl around the cool metal of her car keys, and she yanks the front door open in one motion. The air outside is cold and sharp, but she barely notices as she sprints out onto the porch and down the driveway, her socks sliding slightly on the concrete.

“Dani!” her father’s voice bellows behind her, furious and disbelieving.

She doesn’t stop. She can’t. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and the ache in her chest is overwhelming, but her body doesn’t let her pause. The car is right there.

She reaches it just as he does, her hands fumbling to open the door. Her father’s voice is louder now, closer, almost on top of her. “Danielle! Stop this right now!”

But she doesn’t stop. She slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and locks it in one fluid motion. Her hands are shaking so violently she can barely grip the steering wheel, but she manages to press the ignition button.

Her dad is at the window now, his face red and furious, his voice muffled but still terrifyingly clear through the glass. “This is my car!” he yells, banging on the window. “I pay for it! Get out right now!”

Dani can’t look at him. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, her vision blurred with tears. Her whole body is trembling, her hands slipping on the wheel as she shifts into reverse.

“Danielle!” His fist slams against the glass again, making her jump, but she doesn’t let it stop her.

The car jerks as she pulls out of the driveway too fast, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. She doesn’t care. Her dad’s voice fades into the background as she speeds down the street, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She doesn’t look back. Not at him, not at the house, not at the neighborhood she’s known her entire life.

Her chest feels like it’s caving in, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She’s crying so hard she can barely see, her tears mixing with the streaks of rain on the windshield. Everything feels blurry, distorted, like she’s underwater and the world is pressing in on all sides.

Her mind races as fast as the car. The words he said replay over and over, looping endlessly until they feel burned into her brain. You’re going back. You need to be fixed. I refuse to watch you go to hell.

Her dad’s voice has always been loud, always sharp, but this… this was different. Because for the first time in her life, Dani was scared of him. Truly, bone-deep scared. Not just of what he might have said to her, but what he might have done to her.

The thought of going back to camp makes her stomach churn violently. She can still hear the echo of Mrs. Keating’s voice in her head, those sickly sweet tones that masked something far darker. She can feel the weight of the prayers, the way they crushed her under their expectations, as if forcing her into a mold she could never fit.

I can’t go back there, she thinks, the words looping through her head like a desperate mantra. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

Her fingers tighten on the wheel, and she forces herself to focus on the road in front of her, though she has no idea where she’s going. The streets blur together, familiar landmarks passing by unnoticed. In the back of her mind, she knows she should have a plan, but right now, all she can do is drive.

In an ideal world, she’d go to Paige’s. Paige would know what to do. Paige always knows what to do. But Dani can’t. Paige’s house is too close, just one door down. Her dad would’ve followed her there in a heartbeat, and Paige is already in trouble enough as it is.

She lets out a shaky sob, her shoulders heaving as she turns onto a random street. The car feels too big and too small all at once, the silence inside it deafening. She’s not even sure how far she’s gone, but it doesn’t matter. The tears don’t stop.

Her hands are shaking so badly that she has to pull over, the car screeching to a halt on the side of a dimly lit road. She sits there, gripping the wheel as though it’s the only thing tethering her to reality, her body trembling with the force of her sobs.

Dani feels lost—nowhere to go, nothing in front of her.

[mssorceressupreme]

Hi! I absolutely adore your writing (also going through a maze runner hyper fixation🤭).

Would you be able to do a fic where reader was thought to have died when they originally escaped the maze but reader got out with Gally. Then Minho and reader reunite when they see Gally again (if this makes any sense).

Thank you!! 🫶🏻

hiii aw thank you love that means a lot 💓💓 omg yesss this is such a lovely prompt!! I love reunions lol especially when one s/o was thought to be dead 😝

——

Into Your Arms

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: the gladers thought you were dead (you were shot instead of chuck), but what happens when you’re reunited at last. Your bond with Minho proves unbreakable as you face the future together.

Warnings: mild violence, mentions of bullet scars

——

You sat in the dimly lit room of your shared safe house in the Last City, your fingers tracing an old scar on your stomach.

It was a constant reminder of the day you had narrowly escaped death, a brutal memento left by a bullet from Gally, who wasn’t in the best state of mind a year back.

The pain of that moment, both physical and emotional, had nearly broken you. Yet, here you were, alive and determined, haunted by thoughts of your friends from the glade. Every night, you wondered if they had survived, if they were out there somewhere, fighting the same fight. If Minho was doing alright.

The last memory you had of your boyfriend was him shedding tears as he cradled you in his arms, before you passed out from the loss of blood. That was when they presumed you were dead. Everything after that was a blur, well, until Lawrence and his crew rescued you and Gally.

A knock on the door broke your reverie. Gally stepped in, his expression serious but tinged with something else—hope. “We spotted something, or rather, some people, and we’re bringing them in soon. You might want to be there when we arrive back.” What did he mean by that?

Though Gally was the person who gave you that scar, you forgave him for it. The both of you looked past that and decided to start fresh when Lawrence brought the two of you to his army. Gally even became a brother figure to you, constantly on the lookout to keep you safe.

Moments later, they returned.

Your heart pounded as you waited for their vans to reveal the mystery guests inside.

No shucking way.

The sight that greeted you made you gasp. As soon as the doors slid open, familiar faces emerged. Your gladers. Thomas, Newt, Frypan—they were all here. Relief and joy surged through you, but a sharp pang of anxiety struck you when you didn’t see Minho.

You stood there blending in with the crowd, not knowing what to say or do.

“Hey Greenie.” Gally greeted Thomas, to which he replied by striking Gally’s jaw. Gasps were heard and our soldiers cocked their guns, aiming at Thomas.

“Woah woah woah—stop, stop!” Newt rushed to the front, preventing Thomas from striking Gally once more.

“He killed Y/N…” Thomas spat, “do you have any idea what that did to Minho!”

“I know, I remember. I was there…but I also remember that he was stung and out of his mind.” Newt defended Gally, hoping to calm Thomas down before a fight escalated.

“I’m actually right here...” You said aloud, pushing past the crowd and making your way to the front. You slowly helped Gally up and stood face-to-face with your fellow gladers.

“Y/N??” They gasped in unison. Thomas and Newt rushed to hug you, Fry followed not long after.

“It’s so good to see you again.” Thomas softly said, squeezing you, “He would be elated to know.” You immediately knew who he was referring to. But where was he?

“H-how?! How is this possible? We watched you die. Both of you.” Newt questioned, glancing from Gally to you.

“No, you left us to die.” Gally retorted, “We were lucky Lawrence found us when he did, if not Y/N wouldn’t have made it.”

“What’re you guys doing here anyway?” You inquired, “and where’s—” Before you even finished your question, Newt read your mind.

“Minho. WCKD has him here, we’re looking for a way in.”

Your heart sank, he was here the whole time and you didn’t know?! “Let’s get him then! Gally?”

Gally nodded, “I can help with that. Follow me.”

——

The hours that followed were a blur of planning and preparation. You donned WCKD soldier suits, your faces hidden behind masks. Each step you guys took inside the compound was a step closer to Minho, but also a step deeper into danger.

The tension was thick enough to cut through it with a knife, every sound amplified, every shadow a potential threat.

As you fought your way through the facility, the adrenaline was mixed with fear. You were fighting to save someone you thought you’d lost forever.

“We’ll wait here.” Gally and you waited outside a tall modern building, WCKD’s headquarters, squatting behind a large pillar.

“Are you sure they’re doing alright inside? Shouldn’t we go in to help them?” I demanded, “I need to know that Minho and the others are safe.”

“Trust me, they’ll find a way out of that building.” As though Gally had predicted the future, a glass window on one of the higher floors smashed, and out jumped three figures.

“That’s our cue!” Gally hastened, both of you got in position and followed the other “WCKD soldiers” as they approached the trio.

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air!” One of them commanded pointing guns at your boys, “Uh uh uh!” He continued, when Thomas reached for the gun in his leg strap.

Gally and you acted quickly, shooting them, one by one the soldiers passed out.

The trio stood there dumbfounded, and finally sighed with relief when Gally revealed his mask first.

“Gally?” Minho’s jaw dropped.

“Minho.”

You followed, revealing yourself next.

Minho froze, eyeing you up and down. He shook his head, tears welled up in his eyes, “Y/N?….”

You nodded, wasting no time running up to him and embracing him. “Minho!” You breathed, your eyes filling with tears, body trembling with relief and emotion.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged in your ear, “You’re alive…?!?” He whispered, disbelief and relief mingling in his voice, “All this time…baby, I thought you were dead.“

You pulled back slightly, tears streaming down your face, and punched him playfully on the shoulder, “You were here all this time, and I didn’t know?”

Minho’s eyes were wide with emotion, his voice cracking. “I thought I lost you forever when you got shot in the glade…by him,” He glared at Gally but couldn’t find a reason to be angry now that you were alive, “I mourned you every day.”

Your heart broke at the raw pain in his voice. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here now, Minho. I’m here.”

He hugged you again, tighter this time, as if afraid you might disappear. “Gally took me under his wing,” you explained softly, feeling Minho tense at the mention of Gally.

Minho’s eyes flickered over to Gally, anger flaring briefly, “You shot her,” he said, his voice hard.

Gally raised his hands defensively, “I was stung and truly didn’t mean to—”

“Thank you.” Minho’s responsed baffled Gally, he was sincere, “Thank you for taking care of her.” Once Minho saw that you were safe and well, forgiving Gally was easier.

Minho’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared. He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He said, looking back at you, “that’s all that matters now.”

——

Timeskip to Safe Haven (and Newt survives cause I want him too 😩):

After the festivities of celebrating your first day at the safe haven, Minho guided you to a quiet corner, his eyes never leaving you while the others continued socialising.

“Let me see your wound,” he said gently.

You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing an old scar. Minho’s fingers traced the mark, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I never should’ve left you at the glade,” he whispered, “I should’ve protected you then.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you replied, placing your hand over his, “none of us could have known what would happen.”

He looked up at you, his eyes wet with unshed tears, “When I thought I lost you, I didn’t know how to go on.”

“You don’t have to anymore,” you gently replied, “We’re together now. We’ll face whatever comes next, together.”

He pulled you into his arms, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in what felt like eternity, you felt a sense of peace. The nightmares of your separation were over, and you had been given a second chance.

As the night wore on, you talked with Minho, your words a balm for your wounded souls. The two of you shared everything—what you had endured, the fears you faced, and the hope that had kept you going. Each word, each touch, strengthened the bond between you.

The sun began to disappear into the horizon of the sea tinting the sky a beautiful shade of orange, purple and pink.

That was when Minho finally spoke the words you had longed to hear. “I love you,” he said, voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with joy. “I always have.”

You held each other close, the horrors of the past fading in the light of your reunion. You had found each other again, and together, you were ready to face whatever the future held.

[pyrpaw]

Can i have uhhh first year gang visiting yuu in their world? Thank youu

hell yeah you can have that 🙏 I did a little intro to the situation, and then some head cannons

(contents: might be a but ooc because I imagine they'd be pretty happy to see you again after you disappeared without saying bye, (name) is mentioned to go to school and have a job, their age isn't mentioned but they are implied to live alone(for plot reasons<3))

How did... you get here?

(I had no gif ideas)

You thought you were crazy, you got transported into some place called "Twisted wonderland" and then, you randomly got back home! and seemingly no time had passed, was it just an elaborate dream?... you had no clue, but you had to continue your life like normal. So, going back to school, your job, all of that, left with no one to rant to about how you missed your friends from Twisted wonderland... because are they even real?

Turns out, they were real! because at 2 in the morning you were doing your homework and heard banging and talking from another room, it sounded like multiple voices so you quickly tried to find your phone... only to realize it's downstairs. So, grabbing a hammer in your room you silently made your way outside your room and as silently as you could, downstairs. You heard the voices growing closer and closer, your anxiety peaked as you held your breath and froze, panic filling you as when one of the figures was about to round the corner. Once you saw a foot step out you immediately stood up and lifted the hammer up in a panic, ready to strike down.

And once your hands were already going down you met eyes with a familiar green haired fae who flinched as his head was struck with a hammer. You two stared at each other in shock and confusion, as the other first years came over to see what happened, everyone's eyes widened when they saw you... and the hammer that connected with Sebek's head.

"... Sebek?" You spoke in a quiet voice, slowly pulling the hammer back down as you stared at him. He silently nodded as the others stared at you in awe. You couldn't comprehend any words, before getting tackled into a hug from Ace as he buried his face into your neck and spoke with a shaky voice. "... I thought I'd never see you again.." and before you could even reply, Deuce came up and tightly hugged you too. "... you didn't say bye to anyone" he mumbled as he pulled back and stared at you with teary eyes.

So, after a whole lot of reunions, the boys explained that they didn't know how they got there, or how to get back, so obviously they're allowed to stay with you.

Ace Trappola

He's definitely gonna make fun of your decor, your clothes, basically anything... even though hes gonna steal your T-shirts even after they all got their own clothes

If you're not constantly going out with friends or talking to them he's gonna bully you about being a loser, however if you are constantly talking to friends, he's gonna complain that you're not giving them enough attention and you're being a bad host (even though he really only means that he wants more attention)

Deuce Spade

He won't automatically think about getting a job, but if he hears that you're struggling with paying for all of them then he'll find some kind of job and complain about it 24/7, especially because it'll probably be in customer service due to his age and having no records of anything

Unlike Ace, Deuce automatically starts to help you with funds, he'll probably find a customer service job, maybe even two

Jack Howl

He'll probably get a good reputation with your neighbors, always offering them any help, and usually being gifted something, whether it be muffins or just money

I think that he would kinda just stay home mostly, really only going out with you where he can follow you like a lost puppy (only because he doesn't know this world like you!)

also-he totally takes note of what decor, music, and clothes you like even more now, so that he has ideas for a potential gift and or way to bond with you

Epel Felmier

So... he kinda had to be... barricaded in a way, until you could find a proper hat to cover his ears, he couldn't leave... because some preteen will bark at him

Once he can leave the house though, he immediately gets a job... and spends a bit of the money on a gym membership (also, if you go to the gym he is hyped, he's following you around it the whole time totally not trying to show off his strength)

I think he'd honestly get a job at a gym, maybe a personal trainer even

He basically took up the chore of grocery shopping, like he meal preps and all, it's mainly just veggies and meat that he buys

Sebek Zigvolt

He's thrilled to finally be away from Vil and Rook, now he can actually be himself! His stupid dirty jokes and overall roughness has definitely amped up now that he knows Vil won't find out

He couldn't really find a job due to having no proof that he wasn't a girl, but like Deuce he takes up jobs from your neighbors, getting some cash here and there

He also usually goes on grocery trips with Jack, with Jack getting healthy food, and Epel begging him to get at least a few junk food items, plus he's great at picking out what fruit and veggies are the best

Ortho Shroud

Hes definitely having a hard time with the whole... all humans... no magic thing, to the point that he kept accidentally using his magic in public and got house arrest by you, leaving Ortho to make sure he didn't leave

He's still allowed to go out with supervision though, and anytime you go out to town with him he basically acts as a body guard, glaring at anyone would date approach you

He was given the task of cooking, because he obviously had to learn so he didn't have to eat Lilia's cooking, so him and Jack discuss meek plans for the week/month

He's also like a guard dog when he's outside just in the yard, he's keeping coyotes away, Bobcats, bears, any predator, he's keeping it away with no doubt

Grim

Much like Jack, he couldn't leave the house due to being a robot, technically he could leave and would just get some weird glances for having a "cosplay" on, but he decided to stay back and keep Grim company... and watch Sebek

Whenever he gets bored he'll rummage through the house and find old objects that you clearly don't use anymore... and somehow end up upgrading any technology in this house?? like you came home and suddenly your laptop had the power of a damn PC

He'll also go around when he's bored and clean up for you, putting things away, sweeping, mopping, everything, he's very considerate!

now.... Grim obviously can't leave, he has fire ears! So he's pretty pouty, but after you got him a few toys and a tablet (iPad baby I'm sorey), he calmed down, but he's still not happy!

There are a few acres of forest nearby, so sometimes he'll sneak out there with Ortho to get some outdoors time, but he's almost gotten caught a few times, each time getting scolded by you or Jack

He's secretly very happy to be able to sleep on top of his henchmen again, hes always clinging onto you now, after having the biggest scare of the one person he considered "family" randomly disappearing and leaving him all alone!

[sxprot]

KISS ME, KISS ME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED!!

Sprout X Toon!reader (romantic)

--> Also enjoy random hcs, may be ooc lol as we don't know much about their lore. Thanks to all the writers that wrote about Sprout, ily and you all are my biggest inspiration/p

TW: nothing, just fluff or full of lies, bad grammar since my first language aint english, Reader is gn, idk how to write. This is before the ichor infection

--------

At first, when you are created, you weren't known and never been paid attention by the children and adults. Much to say that you're quite a distant type, even though there's a lot of Toons that's wandering around.

And yet, when your popularity has risen, you haven't found yourself talking to any main cast for long. Any attempts of them trying to strike up a conversation with you, only to be left with disappointment as they received nothing but merely a small talk.

Though, you feel close to common Toons, often seen chatting with them and helping their problems, you were known for your friendliness, of course.

And that seems to catch a Toon's attention!

Now now, first of all, he already saw you! Yes, you are well-known by the audiences, everyone adores you, even bought your merchs, plushies.

But he didn't get a chance to talk to you properly, noticing the way you seem to withdraw from the limelight, even when others tried to talk, you just smile and help their problems, later to be found disappearing after you're done.

So honestly! After getting a chance to meet you, it wasn't any better, actually! Even with a simple baking lesson, Sprout feels a bit awkward. And you, already feeling the anxiety building up inside your chest, only to nod sheepishly when Cosmo asked you.

Exchanging around with many waves and small gesture, you found yourself staying until Sprout left(had to, since Cosmo asked him so). You even go and gasp about it, to which your swirl roll friend shrugs, patting your back as a way to comfort.

And yet, Cosmo insists on inviting you two again to taste out his cookies as a way to get along. Many things has happened, along with your feelings for him.

-----

Okay, onto hcs...

Yk, Cosmo do thinks that you needs to make more friends, actually more like getting along with other main characters. He also thinks this as a good opportunity to lets Sprout makes another friend!

I also thought of Sprout faling first, often asking his friend Cosmo for advices on how to impress you, to which he said that Sprout should focus on being himself. Or maybe starting off with cupcakes and cookies...

The strawberry toon sometimes finds himself in his own reverie, thinking about you accepting his confession...Oh, and some domestic moments as a couple as he took care of you...with his sweet, small little love.

That one time when he was chatting with Cosmo, he suddenly saw you with Boxten interacting with each other. If you noticed his gaze and wave at him, he'd be smiling and returning the gesture back! But sometimes, Sprout would trip and hit the wall when he didn't snap out of his daze.

Imagining him confessing his love with cupcakes. The way Sprout would spent his time decorating it, writing in red frosting about him loving you. And if you accept it, he would be surpised and so happy to see you—happily agreeing to be his partner. He was in cloud nine!

"Thank you." He would said, staring at you with such fondness.

Overprotective, really. Golly, even a small boo-boos could makes him a tad bit worried! How did you managed to get yourself in such state? He would ask and tend your wounds, gentle and slow, simply reminding you to be more careful.

Matching bracelets! You, Sprout and Cosmo would made a matching bracelet for each others, haha.

Of course, you are also the first one to taste his baking, and also the first to witness the chaos when he forgot to turns off the oven, leaving the scene for you both to clean.

I hc Sprout also likes to tease you, like imagining him holding a cookie, alright? He would ask you to open your mouth and say "Aaaaaa" as he slowly twirl(?) his hand like an airplane that's flying.

"Stop it, Sprout! I'm not a kid." "Oh, come on, it's fun!"

Also, like the feeling of him planting kisses on your face? After a long day, he would like to kiss you with a content smile on his face, then yapping about his day.

He is just happy that you're his, and that he's yours. He's forever grateful for have meeting you, for you that's always patient with him, for you that's always there with him. Mwah :)

Oml, sorry if it's too ooc. I'm not a professional at dating nor any romantic...gesture? So writing them out was hard.

[leatherthorn]

TKDB - Can they drive?

I had been thinking about this earlier, but this like from the newest chapter made me think about it more.

So without further ado, here is whether I think the TKDB boys can drive or not.

Jin: Probably can, but doesn’t. That is what Tohma is for.

Tohma: Absolutely. That guy could probably drive a space shuttle if he was prevaricated upon to do so.

Kaito: Too much of a nervous disaster to get behind the wheel. Would 100% slam the accelerator while in reverse while parallel parking.

Luca: Doubtful. I imagine he probably will learn to drive someday, but he strikes me as the kind of guy who won’t learn until after school, since he doesn’t need to right now, and he’s got a lot going on right now, you know?

Alan: We already know he does. He’s quite skilled at all kinds of driving. Probably the kind of guy who can get someone an hour way ij 30 minutes.

Leo: Huh? Gross. That’s what Sho’s supposed to do.

Sho: A responsible motorcyclist. Will probably have to learn to drive a car/box truck for convenience sake in the future.

Haru: He definitely drives a micro truck illegally. How else is he going to carry heavy feed all over the olace? No one bats an eye because he’s doing it on private property technically so he doesn’t need a license. Also, is a Capybus a motor vehicle for the purposes of this thought exercise? It’s an open question. He probably also drives that illegally, regardless. Calm down, Ritsu.

Towa: No way in hell is anyone letting him drive the micro truck again after what happened the last time.

Ren: He strikes me as the kind of guy who was forced to learn, but never got to drive anywhere fun. He is probably just working for his family business.

Taiga: Laws are for suckers.

Romeo: He is probably the one that actually drives during missions, if it’s necessary. Generally doesn’t drive if he can avoid it, but has absolutely driven the Passo dello Stelvio at least once.

Ritsu: Has his drivers license and is an absolute menace on the road. No one is getting anywhere efficiently because he’s too busy impeding traffic with his strict adherence to the rules. This is why Romeo drives.

Subaru: Absolutely not. While certainly capable of learning, he’s far too nervous to effectively drive.

Haku: also no, but more from a matter of convenience, rather than some sort of anxiety.

Zenji: Same for Zenji. I don’t see him learning how, even though he would happily extol the virtues of a country drive.

Ed: He could drive a carriage. Does that count?

Rui: has a license and no car. Being a surfer would require some ability to bring boards around to the beach, but I can’t imagine that he drives enough to justify owning a car.

Lyca: When would he have had time to learn, between living in the wilderness and in anomaly jail? He’d probably be good at it if he was given the chance, though. At the same time, I think he might also be prone to road rage, so… no different than your average American driver…

Yuri: He would also be a menace behind the wheel, but because he would be too busy having Big Brain thoughts to remember to put the car in park before getting out of it.

Jiro: Also a menace, but because he would let people keep going ahead of him at the first stop sign he came across.

[femininefables]

⛓️🖤ℑ’𝔩𝔩 𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔚𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤🖤⛓️

Sevika x fem! Y/n: broken marriage angst

part 1

a/n : in reality, I can never see Sevika treating her S/O like this, but I’m a sucker for angst so here this is anyways.

contains: swearing, alcohol abuse, minor pushing and shoving, smoking, maybe manipulation? Idk. If you’re uncomfortable with any of this, please stay away for your own comfort! ❤️

w/c : 2.1k

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The rain comes down hard against the shaking windows of your apartment in Zaun. You’re sitting up, waiting on the return of your wife, Sevika. She was meant to be home a while ago, but you try not to worry. Despite that, the anxiety that something’s wrong this time lingers in your mind.

She’s usually late to come home since she’s now Silco’s right hand, and is a lot busier than she used to be. You can’t say you entirely agree with Silco and Sevika, but this job seems to mean a lot to her, so you let any opinions you have go.

The clock strikes again… it’s been an hour, and no Sevika. You know that something’s up for sure, but what can you do? There’s no way you’d last long alone in Zaun past midnight… You try to stay up longer, but you feel sleep pulling your eyelids shut and attempting to quiet your worried mind…

Defeated, you sleepily make your way to the bed you share with Sevika, crawling onto it before collapsing where she’d usually sleep. You can’t help but smell her on the pillows, the blankets, and the sheets. You decide you’ll head straight to Silco’s base the very next morning to find her… if she isn’t back by then…

The faint sunlight filters its way through your halfway drawn blinds. Reaching out, you search for the familiar warmth of your wife, but she still isn’t there. Sitting up immediately, you pull on some clothes, grab a pocket knife, and leave to search for her on your own.

When you finally reach Silco’s place, most of his guards and goons move out of your way. Sevika has always made it clear that you’re with her, and the consequences of your mistreatment won’t be pretty, whether she’s your coworker or not. “Sev? Are you here?” You call out nervously. There’s still no sign of her. You slowly make your way to Silco’s door, cracking it open before pushing it out of the way. Sevika is completely knocked out on the couch.

Your hand goes to your mouth in shock as your eyes wander towards the bandaged bloody stump where her arm used to be. You feel light headed. You might puke, but you steel yourself, and instead focus on her face. “Sev! Are you okay? What happened?!” You say. You don’t shake her, since you think that might hurt her. You press your ear to her chest and breath a sigh of relief when you not only hear her heart pumping, but feel the slow rise and fall of her chest that you missed the night before.

“She’ll live…” A sickeningly familiar voice says from behind you. Whirling around, startled by the intrusion, you see that it’s only Silco. He doesn’t look so good himself either… Not that he ever did to you anyways. “What happened!?” You demand, trying to hide the obvious tremor in your voice. “A plan.. I can’t tell you everything, but Vander’s girl was causing some trouble, and there was…an explosion..”

He walks around the room till he reaches his desk, sitting down in the large chair. “Your..partner, Sevika…She defended me.. probably saved my life. In exchange for well…I think you can tell.” You’re aware of what has been going on the past couple of days. The explosion in piltover, the enforcers running around looking for the suspects, but you have no idea how this is related at all. All you want is for Sevika to wake up and tell you everything’s okay like normal.

“Uggh….shit..” Wish granted. Sevika’s eyes flutter open and she looks around. It’s clear she’s not really there, but you can’t help rushing back to her side. “Sev it’s me! A-are you okay? How do you feel!?” She looks at you strangely, before muttering a curse and going back to sleep. Kind of anti-climactic.

“We had a doctor stop by. She’s on a lot of medication right now, but she should be okay, given I’m giving her two months off..” She just lost her arm.. Only two months!? You think to yourself. However; “Okay..” is how you respond. All you can do is stare down at your wife, who merely furrows her eyebrows in her sleep.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:-

It’s been some time since the accident. Sevika is back home, and has been for about a week now. Recently, she’s been less affectionate, but you’ve brushed it off as stress, or her getting used to her new disability.

Despite this, you’re trying to be the most supportive wife you can possibly be. One afternoon, you spot her struggling to eat with a spoon. Her left hand was her dominant one after all… You go over to help her, lifting the spoon to her lips and smiling. “Hey. It’s alright I can help you.” She glares at you. “I don’t need your help… I’m not a kid.” You sigh, trying to be patient with her. “I know…but just let me help you right now.” Sevika has never been good at accepting help. She always wants to do things on her own. It’s a quality you find equally endearing, and annoying at times.

“I know that-well, things are going to be different for you from now on. This is all going to take some getting used to, but please, let me help you for now.” You plead with her. Her eyes soften momentarily, before looking away from you with a grunt. She begrudgingly takes the spoon in her mouth, allowing you to help her eat.

Despite some moments of tenderness, things are still pretty rough. She’s drinking a lot more than usual, and completely brushing you off when you try to talk to her about it. One night, you wake up to the loud sound of the TV in the living room. Sevika isn’t next to you.

You get up and head out the bedroom door, finding her drinking what looks like her third beer, and watching some crap on the TV. “What’s with that look, baby~?” She asks with a drunken slur. “You’re drinking again…You’ve already had a lot today.” You say, walking over and sitting down next to her. You hold her remaining hand with your own. “Ah fuck…Just get off my back…” She groans, rolling her eyes at you. “Sev, I just-all this drinking can’t be good for you. I know loosing your arm is rough, but this isn’t the solution! Just please come to bed with me.” You beg her. For a moment her eyebrows raise, before she scowls at you. She roughly shoves you off of her. “I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion on how i’m dealing with my own shit. Not yours.” She spat. Sevika swears all the time. She has the mouth of a sailor, but this time it feels different. Like the feeling you had when waiting for her to come home that night. A sinking feeling in your stomach telling you something is wrong. Fighting back tears, you stand up and return to bed.

It’s after one a.m. Sevika still hasn’t come to bed. The TV is off now. Is she asleep? You grip your wedding ring tightly. As you twist it around your finger, you assure yourself that this will all brush over. She just needs time…she’ll come around…she still loves me…it’ll be okay…

You jolt awake at the sound of heavy footsteps and the bed bouncing as Sevika plops down. You feel her calloused hand snake around your waist, and pull your back flush against her chest. Her chin comes to rest on the top of your head, and she finally speaks. “Hey…I’m sorry…” She sounds remorseful. Drunk for sure. Sevika is usually good at holding her alcohol. Must have drank a lot tonight…

“I shouldn’t be mean to you… I love you… you know that right?” She presses a kiss to the top of your head. The first one in a while. It stings a bit that it’s not when she’s sober. “Yeah… I know.” You mutter. Sevika mumbles on “ I’m sorry baby. I don’t deserve someone as pretty and sweet as you. I don’t know why you wanted to be with an old lady like me…” She squeezes you tighter. Sevika is only thirty three, but she calls herself old all the time. The usual ramblings of a drunk Sevika. You fall asleep that night in her arms. Till you’re not. The morning leaves you alone in the bed. After getting up, you notice Sevika isn’t home. You wait all afternoon until she finally comes through the door. “Oh, hey babe.” She says. “ Sev, where were you so early?” You ask, noticing the red cape draped over where her left arm was. “ Silco’s place. He called me over and, well… I’m getting a prosthetic.” She doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“That’s great!” You rush to her side, urging her to sit down. She’s still a bit tense. “Is something wrong?” You ask. She’s averting your gaze. “Look I just…you…fuck. Never mind.” She stands up and lights a cigarillo. Something she never used to do around you.

Sevika’s new arm will definitely take some getting used to. You’re not too sure about the shimmer aspect of it, but she seems pleased with it. “I’ll be back to work with this soon.” She says one night while you’re cooking dinner. “Aww…I’ll miss having you at home, Sev.” You say it like it’s a joke, but you really will miss her. “Yeah? I don’t know why. I’ve been a total bitch recently.” She remarks. “I still will. These past weeks have been hard, so I understand.” She frowns, leaning her elbows on the counter. “You’re just gonna let me get away with that? Wonder what else you’d put up with…”

And so, Sevika is back to work. You barely see her. Leaving early in the morning, and coming back either late into the night, or the early hours of the morning. You’re not sure if all of it is work though… Sometimes, she’ll come back with loads of cash. Sevika has always been a gambler, but it may be getting out of hand now.

Other times, she’ll come home scuffed up from another one of Silco’s “errands.” She won’t let you tend to her like she used to. You were hoping your relationship would go back to how it was now that things are mostly back to normal, but you only seem to be getting more distant. It’s been one week. One whole week since you’ve seen your wife. She told you this mission would be a long one, and “don’t expect to see me around soon.” Before just leaving. You miss the goodbye hugs and soft kisses, and the sweet nothings she’d leave you with.

One night the door slams open, waking you with a little yelp. “Just me.” You hear her yell from the doorway. Getting up, you rush to greet Sevika with a big hug. She stiffens, but merely rubs your head in response. “I missed you…” You mumble into her shirt, which smells of smoke, and blood. “Isn’t that cute?” She chuckles, something you haven’t heard in the longest time.

Everything is strange now. Moments like these feel off. She’s kind to you, sweet and loving, before suddenly becoming cold and distant again. Is this good? Is it bad? No marriage is going to be perfect everyday, but these ups and downs are confusing you. Nevertheless, you savor the rare moment of tenderness.

That morning, you wake up with a smile on your face. Today is Sevika’s day off. Your mind is brimming with ideas of what you could do today. Maybe you can go to the market together, or do some baking, or possibly something else you’ve been missing from her… Shaking the lewd delusion from your head, you get up to go find Sevika. To your surprise, she’s putting on her shoes and adjusting her red poncho over her new arm. “Where are you going?” You ask meekly. Your voice betraying the slightly sad mood you’ve found yourself in. “Out.” Is all she says. She doesn’t even look over her shoulder at you. Deciding not to let this moment go to waste, you tackle her in a tight hug, feeling her warm body against yours, along with the ice cold metal of her arm.

“Get the hell off’a me!” Her voice raises slightly, pushing you away, and knocking you off of her. “I- I’ll be back soon.” She looks regretful for just a moment, before leaving without another word.

For a moment you can’t even move. Just standing there looking shocked as ever. She’s never been so secretive. So aggressive or impulsive. You feel tears sliding down your cheeks before you can even try and stop them. But there’s also a ball of anger and pain in your stomach. You can’t say anything except for a little gasp.

You desperately touch the wedding ring around your finger like it’s a lifeline. “From the fanciest place I could find.” Is what she told you that day. Her eyes trained on yours like you were the only thing in her world. You certainly were not now.

A/n : Hello! Thanks so much for reading part one. I plan to keep this as a series, and any form of critique or suggestions are welcome!

-Elena

[howlingday]

Remember the chaquetrix post? Can we get an au were Jaune gets it.

If so heres a start like penny's mine could be uploaded into it making penny the human summon and real girl, plus this way she can be saved by calling her back.

Jaune 10-C AU

Hey there! The name's Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, and rolls off the tongue. The ladies love it. And in case you were wondering, yes, I've tested this and yes, the ladies do, in fact, love it. Or, at least, Penny does.

Who's Penny? She's the girl who lives in my watch. Or, well, kind of.

Let me start from the beginning. A while back, one summer ago, I was helping out at my family farm when a shooting star passed through the sky. I was out in the field stargazing when it happened, and I was also out in the field when it landed in the field! I checked it out and inside was a metal capsule, and inside was a note and weird looking watch.

I reached down to check out the watch when it jumped onto my arm and stuck into me! I freaked out and tried everything I could to get it off! Eventually, after realizing it was stuck to me, I was able to calm down... after about another five minutes of freaking out. When that happened, I decided to fiddle around with it. It was stuck to my arm, so I might as well get it set the way I like, right?

Oh, but let me clarify something. This thing on my wrist isn't a watch. Apparently, it's an encyclopedia of every living, sentient species on Remnant and beyond. That's how I met Penny, who's the human registered inside. I twist the setting to her, slap it down, and in a flash of pinkish purplish light, Penny appears!

Now, you're probably what happened next. Well...

--------------------------------------------------

"Sal-U-Tations~!"

"WAGH!" Jaune fell over, kicking away from the girl who suddenly appeared. "Wh-Who are you?!"

"I am Penny Polendina!" She greeted. "And what is your name?"

"Uh... Jaune?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Uhjaune!"

"What? No, no! It's just Jaune."

"Oh, excuse me, Justjaune."

"No, not-" Jaune let out a sigh. "Jaune. My name is Jaune."

"Oh..." She nodded. "Forgive me. This is my first time."

"First time... doing what?"

"Speaking with my husband."

Jaune blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh! Have I made another error? Forgive me."

Jaune felt like he was going to throw up. In less than an hour of stargazing, he's survived a meteor strike, had an alien device latch onto his arm, this weird girl arrives out of nowhere, and now she's calling him her husband. Yup. He was going to throw up now.

"There, there." Penny rubbed his back. "Understandably, this is a lot to take in."

"No kidding." Jaune spat out the last of the bile in his mouth. "So, uh... Where do we go from here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said I was your future husband, so what do we do now?"

"Oh! The answer is simple!"

"It is?"

"Yes!" She smiled. "We must repopulate our species."

Jaune's face paled. "I think I'm going to throw up again."

Before he had the chance to, though, a growl interrupted their conversation. The sudden arrival of Penny and the news she brought with her had filled Jaune with feelings of fear and anxiety from the start. It was only natural that the Grimm would draw closer on these negative emotions.

"We need to leave!" Jaune said, grabbing Penny by her wrist.

"Wait! But I-"

"No time to wait! We have to go!" Pulling on her wrist, he guided her from to the edge of the field, where a shed filled with tools that had gone unused until today. Once inside, he locked the door and looked around. Maybe there was something strong enough to at least wound the monsters long enough until help arrived. "Grab a weapon and stay behind me."

"You intend to fight the Grimm by yourself?" Penny asked. "That seems unwise."

"Well, I don't really have any other options." There was a scratching at the door, like a cat, but much larger and filled with slightly more hate. "But this many Grimm in one place shouldn't go unnoticed to the local huntsmen. Or Dad. Either way, we should be fine so long as they don't break in."

The door began to creak as gnashing teeth snapped in the crevice. Taking hold of a machete, Jaune slashed the rusty blade down onto the monster's muzzle. It gave a yipe and slipped away. Jaune felt pleased with himself, but only until a huge, black claw started flailing wildly in place of the wounded jaws. Jaune backed away, bumping into Penny.

"Sorry." He turned towards her, noticing a hatch in the ceiling. An idea began to brew. "I have an idea."

"As do I!"

"Okay, let's hear your plan." Jaune asked, hoping it was better.

"We fight!" It was not.

"Or," he held out his hands, "I can fight while you escape."

"But Jaune-"

"Penny, listen," he took her hands, "I know we only just met, but if you're really going to be my future wife, then that means I have to protect you. And if protecting you means I have to take some hits so you can go get some help, then I..." Jaune stopped for a moment. It was at this time he realized how heavy his words would carry. He was putting his life on the line for hers. He could very well die for this complete stranger. But somehow, he was alright with that. He gave a nod. "I give you my word, I will protect you."

"Jaune..."

"I'm going to escape through the roof and draw their attention." He pointed up. "When they're gone, you run for the house and get my dad. Call for any help you can once there. Just be safe, please."

She smiled. "You can count on me, Jaune."

"Good." He smiled back. "Here's hoping you can do the same."

Taking the ladder from the side, he climbed up to the hatch and cracked it open. The Grimm weren't on the roof, thankfully, so he could put his suicide mission into effect. Shutting the hatch and sliding down the backside of the shed, he ran out to the field.

"HEY! OVER HERE!" The Grimm snarled at him. "YEAH, I'M OVER HERE, GUYS! COME AND GET ME!" In a blink, they'd already covered half the distance. There must have been three of them lunging at him, all at once. Take a quick, last breath, he charged them with his machete.

Suddenly, one of them was sliced in half, giving a yelp as it faded into ash. Before either of the other two could react, another was stabbed in the head by a sword, pinning it to the ground as it, too, faded. It was at this moment that Penny landed in front of Jaune, wings extended from her back.

"Penny?!"

"I was trying to tell you, Jaune," she extended her hands with fingers splayed, "I am combat ready~!"

To say it was an even fight would be an understatement. With only one swipe of her left arm, the wing of blade came crashing down, slicing through the Grimm at different points and killing it six different ways before it finally fell to the ground.

"I..." Jaune panted, realizing he hadn't breathed since she arrived. "Wow... I... Just wow!"

Penny giggled. "I take it you are impressed?"

"Jaune?!" A familiar voice called.

"Dad?" Jaune looked over and saw his father running towards him. "Dad, over here!"

"Jaune, what on Remnant are you doing out here?!" He hurried to his son. "I thought we were under attack by bandits, or something!"

"Bandits?" Jaune raised his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Something broke through the window and stabbed into the couch!" Oh, so that's how Penny woke up his dad.

"I think that was Penny."

"Penny? Who's Penny?"

"Penny, she-" Jaune turned to find Penny was gone. He blinked in confusion. "She... She was right here."

"Jaune, are you feeling okay?" His father checked his head for injuries. "You didn't hurt yourself out here, did ya?"

"No, Dad, I'm fine."

"Oh, good." His father sighed, releasing his son... before flicking his forehead. "What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?!"

"I, uh-"

"You have any idea what you being dead would've done to this family?!"

"Dad, I-"

"Oh, you are so lucky your mother is still asleep right now!" He prodded his chest. "If she were out here, she'd-"

"She'd what, Jack?" The Arc men turned to see Jaune's mother standing in her nightgown, looking at them like they were bickering children. "Please, by all means, give me some ideas."

--------------------------------------------------

"Sir, we've tracked the device's course and determined what planet it most likely crashed to." The servant displayed the world on a digital screen.

"Very well. Set a course for this... Remnant."

"As you command, Lord Vilgax."

[000marie198]

What were to happen if Sonic and Tails both became babies? Y'know, besides Knuckles and Amy having to wrangle their clingier than usual sibs.

Imagine two gremlin twin kittens who just got reunited staring at you with these faces:

:3 :3

Moments before disaster strikes

.....

But this happens after they are placed in the same space together and make friends.

The first instinct of baby Tails would be to pounce on his fellow age mate cuz he wanna play

The first instinct of Sonic would be to yip in terror and roll away from the fox and tremble while still curled up in a teeny ball. He won't know it but his action will make baby Tails pause and tilt his head in confusion and then curiously approach the still trembling ball to nudge it. It pricks him due to quills and he also yips and scuttles away, then whimpers and sniffs, holding his bleeding snout.

The hedgehog, recognizing the sounds as expressions of pain and fear and not sensing anything else for a full minute uncurls slightly to make a little peek at the kit, he's cautious but also curious.

They don't really have the memories of their lives but the general instincts and bonds are there and seeing the teary blue eyes and soft sad sniffles... Little hoglet is not able to handle it and uncurls completely and whimpers too.

He hurt the other. He doesn't want the other to be hurt. He's really sorry he hurt the other.

Little hoglet stumbles towards the sniffling kit and pats him with his little paws over and over till baby Tails stops tearing up with a hiccup and stares curiously at the hoglet.

Baby Sonic let's out an open mouthed smile. Tails gets curious and comes closer, which reactivates the hedgehog instincts and Sonic rolls away again.

Baby Tails realizes the other one can get scared if he comes close without warning or pounces so he doesn't do that. He just sits and waits, tails lightly swishing back and forth, watching baby Sonic till he calms down and uncurls, meeting the fox replicating his earlier smile.

Big wide eyes staring at each other and slowly they both become comfortable enough to actually start communicating, in babbles and gestures but it's still communication.

In a while, Sonic's stomach growls, he has always had higher metabolism okay. Baby Tails starts sniffing around to find him something to eat. He sniffs something he likes, FLIES OUT OF THE PEN, locates a cookie and brings it to Sonic. The hoglet muches on it and offers it to Tails after 3 or 4 bites. Tails also munches on cookie.

They start competing on who can munch louder, it's a miracle one of them hasn't choked on a crumb while giggling so much.

They bond over chocolate cookie :]

........

There's a lot more moments we can add afterwards, aka once the two have become friends. .

Both babies would literally have that package deal, Do Not Sperate level separation anxiety specifically and only when it comes to the other.

Knuckles would carry Tails away to feed him something and Sonic would start wailing and reaching, Tails doing the same. They are very loud and they won't shut up till you reunite them, which will end up in close hugs and sniffles

There was that one time Amy had to take Sonic away for a little bit to give him a bath and Knuckles had to fight to hold a frantic clawing fox kit away, especially when Sonic's cries of sorrow turned into screeches of fear. This was so not easy.

Tails bites both their older friends after that while Sonic naps in the background all freshened up and tidied.

........

You cannot leave the babies unsupervised anywhere! They will work together to escape one way or another no matter where and they will drive everyone nuts looking for them only to be found inside a barely ajar cupboard with cereal scattered all around them and blinking like deer caught in a headlight.

......

You give one of them a toy or teether or rattle and they'll fight over it and scream. Sighing, you take away the toys. Next time you make sure to give both of them identical toys. They still look at the other and try to snatch it, starting another fight.

.......

There are two gremlins rolling around and flying all over the house, getting into the craziest, unreachable places. Sonic just scuttled under the fridge, Tails is perched on a ceiling fan. Everything is scattered

.......

The next time baby Tails pounces on the hoglet to play with him, Sonic doesn't curl up in fear

[writing-the-stars]

Mikaelson Ball (Kol)

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a thousand years apart, you reunite with your long-lost love. However, all is not as it seems.

Warnings: ANGST (Like a sickening amount. I laid it on THICK this time), Talks of Death and Murder, Canon-Typical Violence (Really just a small confrontation that happens in the episode). Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 6.6k (I wasn't even expecting it to be this long!!!)

A/N: Hey guys! So, just wanted to let you know this is my last Kol fic (unless a request is submitted). I have debated on whether or not I should even post this, but I worked REALLY hard on this and I would be sad to let it go to waste. This is one of the first TVDU fanfictions I started YEARS AGO, so this fic has been through a lot. In fact, it's been through so much that (depending on y'all's feedback) it has the potential to become a two to three part series (maybe 4, but I hope I'm not THAT verbose). As I was working I realized how long it had gotten and cut it in half, so Part 2 is mostly done and needs some edits, but if you all want it, I could post it very soon. Anyway , long author's note this time around. All of this is to say, this is one of my babies and I had a lot of fun working on it. I'm super proud of it and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!! (TL;DR: This is my last Kol fic (unless a request is submitted) and has the potential to be a multipart if you all want it)

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

A storm of emotions brews within you as you anxiously await your reunion with the man who was once your everything. A thousand years have passed since you last saw Kol, and the uncertainty gnaws at you. Do his feelings still remain? Did your love really survive the passage of time?

A thousand years is an eternity— a vast expanse of time that undoubtedly swallowed all the moments you shared. The possibility that he has moved on weighs heavily on your mind, as cruel as it seems. After all, you’ve been dead.

Your stomach tightens with a wave of panic. What are you doing here? you question. The thought of turning around, leaving this past behind, grows increasingly tempting. Walking away seems like the safer option, a way to protect your fragile heart from the weight of inevitable disappointment. Just as your feet begin to move, the voice of Esther— unmistakable and clear— pierces the air, as if she knew exactly what you were about to do.

“I want us to be a family again. And to prove my good intentions, I have brought a gift.”

The door swings open, and there you stand, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable beneath the astonished gazes of the five people who were once your family.

They look... different. But unmistakably the same.

Your heart lurches as you take in the sight of them, their familiar faces now etched by the passage of time. Elijah stands to your right, his once-shoulder-length hair now cropped short, and his attire— a tailored, sophisticated ensemble— commands an air of authority you didn’t recognize from the man you knew. Beside him, Finn’s leather attire and long hair suggest a nod to his former self, though a sense of quiet power surrounds him. In the back of the room, Niklaus looms, his sharp gaze cutting through the air. His presence is menacing, dark and commanding, a notable contrast to the man from your memories, yet the edge of familiarity remains.

To your left, Rebekah dons a stunning red piece that resembles a dress, radiating timeless grace. Her beauty is still as striking as ever.

And finally, your gaze finds him. Kol.

The moment you’ve both longed for and feared.

Anxiety grips you as your breath catches. Time seems to slow as you take in the sight of him— so like the Kol you remember, and yet... so different. His hair is styled similarly to Elijah’s, sleek and sophisticated, and his attire— though foreign— seems to suit him perfectly, giving him an almost regal quality.

But it’s his eyes that stop you cold. His gaze locks with yours, and the world falls away. He looks at you with the same eyes that once held yours with such warmth and passion, promising you forever.

Your pulse quickens. The same mischievous glint dances in his eyes—an emotion so familiar and intimate that it stirs something deep inside you. For a heartbeat, you feel as though you’re standing in the past again, caught in that beautiful, tragic moment when he first swept you into his world.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his voice thick with disbelief. His tone lingers in the air like a prayer, the name a soft, desperate whisper. It feels like an eternity since you last heard him speak your name.

Kol had long resigned himself to the belief that he would never see you again, after your death a millennium ago— the true love of his life. Your loss had driven him to madness, compelling him to descend into the darkest recesses of his vampiric existence. For centuries, he had nothing to hold onto, nothing to desire or cherish.

And yet, here you are, standing before him— alive— and just as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on you. The youngest Mikaelson son is rendered speechless as he struggles to hold onto this fragile thread of reality, having only dreamed of this moment. 

Unable to stop yourself, you move toward him, your feet unsteady as you draw closer. Kol’s eyes soften, disbelief giving way to awe as he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch is so tender, so tentative, as though he fears you might vanish.

A smile stretches across his face— small, incredulous, but genuine. The same smile that once set your heart on fire.

You smile back, the flood of emotions overwhelming you. “Hi, Kol,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the joy you thought you would never feel again.

Without another word, he pulls you into a kiss— deep, urgent, filled with longing and a desperate love that spans a thousand years. His lips press against yours as if he’s trying to make up for all the time lost, all the moments stolen from you both.

When the kiss breaks, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Darling, I’ve missed you so much.”

His voice is raw with emotion, a depth of feeling you thought might have dulled with time. But there is no denying it— his love for you remains. He still loves you.

“I’ve missed you too,” you reply, a fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks as you gaze at him, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his expression.

You turn your gaze to the rest of the Mikaelsons— your family— who are still staring at you with wide eyes. Shock, awe, and disbelief reflect in each of their faces. You’ve been gone for so long, and your death left scars on them all.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing the tears from your cheeks, and speak the words that have been in your heart for so long, “I’ve missed all of you.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the magnitude of your return sinking in. Finally, Elijah speaks. “How is this possible, Mother?” he asks, turning to Esther for an explanation. The rest of the family follows suit, each of them seeking the truth in their eyes.

Esther steps forward, a serene smile gracing her lips as she addresses them. “On the night of Y/N’s passing, I managed to preserve her body,” she explains, her voice calm and measured. “I kept it hidden, safe within the caves from which I was resurrected. Though Y/N is not bound to us by blood, she is a cherished member of this family. We would not be whole without her.”

As Esther finishes her explanation, the Mikaelsons— one by one— rush toward you. Rebekah is the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight, emotional hug, her tears blending with your laughter. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers through her tears, holding you close.

The others follow, each one enveloping you in their arms, their joy and disbelief palpable. Kol stays close by, never letting you slip from his side, his hand always finding yours, his gaze never leaving your face.

The night passes in a blur of hugs, laughter, and tears. And as the reunion unfolds around you, you realize that all those years spent in darkness and sorrow have finally come to an end. You are home. And you are loved.

-*-

“Rebekah, tell me how handsome I am,” Kol calls out from in front of what you’ve learned to call the mirror. The thing still fascinates you— how it reflects your image so clearly, no magic involved.

“Ah, Kol, you know I can’t be compelled,” Rebekah replies from beside you, prompting a soft giggle from you in response.

Kol frowns dramatically, swiveling from the mirror to cast a mockingly reproachful look in your direction. A playful gleam dances in his eyes, and you can’t resist returning his gaze with a cheeky smile.

“Great, she’s just returned, and already you’ve turned my wife against me,” Kol remarks, his tone light but feigning frustration.

You snicker, your eyes flicking to Finn, who had been watching from his fitting. He turns now, offering a knowing smirk to his youngest brother. Rebekah, pleased with herself, flashes a triumphant smile before resuming her focus on her freshly painted nails.

It feels so natural to be here, like you’ve never been gone. The easy camaraderie you share with your family slips seamlessly back into place, like a favorite memory that never quite fades. The banter, the jokes, the teasing— it’s all so familiar. For the first time in a long time, you feel something like peace.

“I think you look fetching, Kol,” you say, your voice warm as you shoot him a smile that matches the fondness in your words. He turns back to the mirror, a pleased smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he admires his reflection once more.

“Thank you, darling,” he replies, his voice soft with affection. He straightens his jacket— a suit, you’ve learned. The look fits him well, but it’s his self-assuredness, his confidence, that makes the moment feel so... right.

The door slams open with a violent force that rattles the room. Niklaus storms in, his fury unmistakable, his aura thick with rage. “You went after Elena?” he roars, eyes blazing, “What is wrong with you?”

Your stomach drops at the sudden shift in atmosphere, the lightheartedness evaporating in an instant. You realize with a sharp jolt that his wrath is directed at Rebekah, and you feel an uncomfortable knot tighten in your chest.

The Niklaus you knew— once gentle and kind— feels like a distant memory now. The years have twisted him, and his anger has fermented into something far darker. The warmth in his soul has been mutilated to a volatile, vindictive cruelty.

You think of what Kol told you, the countless betrayals, the violence. The times he daggered his siblings, locked them away in coffins, and manipulated every one of them to suit his whims. You shiver involuntarily, the stories of his temper leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Here we go,” Rebekah mutters under her breath, her voice still laced with amusement as she watches Niklaus’s fury unfold. You notice the small, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at her lips. She’s always enjoyed riling her brothers, a quality you’ve always admired her for— her fearless audacity. She isn’t afraid of Niklaus..

“Do you want another dagger in your heart?” he threatens, his voice laced with menace. 

You tense, your body instinctively bracing as you position yourself closer to Rebekah, ready to protect her if necessary. The weight of Niklaus's fury settles over the room like a storm, thick and oppressive. Though his anger intimidates you deeply, you can't help but feel a surge of determination. Not this time. You've only just been reunited with your family and you’re not about to let him tear them away from you. Not without a fight.

Even though you were warned about Niklaus’s drastic transformation, witnessing it firsthand is nothing short of jarring. The man who once exuded warmth, tenderness, and a kind of charming vulnerability now stands before you— his presence dark, heavy, and filled with an unrelenting malice. His eyes, once soft and capable of genuine affection, now gleam with a cold, calculating cruelty that sends a shiver down your spine.

The contrast is staggering. Gone is the brother you remember—the one who, despite his flaws, had moments of kindness. In his place stands a figure that commands fear, his rage so palpable it feels like an almost physical force in the room. His words cut through the air like a blade, each syllable dripping with venom, and you feel the pull of that darkness like a weight on your chest.

You glance at Rebekah, who, though clearly unfazed by her brother's outburst, has a flicker of something in her eyes—something you can’t quite place, but it’s there. A weariness. A resignation, maybe. She’s endured Niklaus’s wrath for so long that it no longer rattles her, but you know it’s still painful, still damaging.

“More dagger threats? Don’t you have any other tricks up your sleeve?” Kol taunts from behind Niklaus, his voice dripping with mockery and a hint of challenge. The boldness of it makes you wince.

You turn to your husband, your eyes wide with silent pleading. You’ve heard that Kol, more than any of the others, has borne the brunt of Niklaus’s wrath. How he’s been daggered more times than anyone could count, all for daring to cross Klaus in even the slightest way. You cannot stand to see him suffer that again— not when you’ve just found your way back to him.

Niklaus barely spares him a glance, his expression dismissive. “Oh, go back to admiring yourself,” he replies, almost lazily, his eyes flicking back to Rebekah as if Kol’s words were no more than a minor distraction.

You take a step closer to Kol, your hand brushing against his arm as you whisper urgently, “Kol, don’t—”

But your husband, ever the provocateur, ignores your warning completely.

“And who are you, my father?” he retorts, a biting edge to his voice, the sarcasm unmistakable. You can feel your heart sink. The last thing you want is another confrontation between them, especially when there’s so much unspoken between them already. But Kol is Kol—reckless, defiant, impossible to hold back.

A deep sigh escapes you as you close your eyes in frustration. This was never supposed to be the way you reunited with your family.

Niklaus, for his part, is barely fazed. “No, Kol,” he says, his tone chillingly cold as he steps forward, his imposing presence growing with each movement, “But you’re in my house.”

The tension in the room thickens, and you can practically feel the electricity crackling between the brothers. The history between them weighs heavily in the air, and you know how far this could go if Kol doesn’t back down.

You open your eyes, but Kol’s gaze remains fixed on Niklaus. There’s no retreat in his posture, no hesitation. The challenge has already been issued.

“Then perhaps we should take this outside,” Kol says, his voice firm, steel running through every word as he faces his older brother with defiance.

The air feels heavy as you step toward Kol, the tension in the room palpable— Niklaus’s silence speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know the danger in the air

“Kol, stop,” you urge, your hand landing gently but firmly on his chest in a desperate attempt to calm him. The contact should have grounded you, but instead, it feels as though you're pressing against a solid wall of muscle and defiance. His body tenses beneath your palm, and the force of his presence is enough to make your heart race.

The silence stretches, thick with the weight of the standoff, until Esther’s voice cuts through it like a blade, sharp and commanding. “Enough!”

She enters the room with her usual grace, but her modern appearance— fitting seamlessly into the façade you’re all working so hard to maintain— reminds you that beneath her calm exterior, Esther is no stranger to control and power. With a glance that commands attention, she directs her words to Niklaus.

“Niklaus, come.”

He hesitates, throwing one last simmering glare in Kol’s direction before reluctantly following her out. Kol remains unfazed. His smirk remains firmly in place, his eyes glinting with the satisfaction of having provoked his older brother.

Once the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You turn toward your husband, giving his shoulder a firm smack. It won’t faze him, of course, but it’s all you can do in the moment to express your frustration.

He turns toward you, his eyes wide with feigned innocence, though the playful spark in them betrays any semblance of remorse. “What was that for?” he asks, his voice light, unbothered.

“Why did you have to provoke him?” you admonish, your tone a delicate balance of exasperation and concern, “We’re trying to live peacefully, remember?”

Kol just chuckles, the sound rich with amusement. That familiar smirk of his reappears, and before you can protest, he leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as if to soothe the tension in your own body.

“Darling,” he murmurs with a soft chuckle, “it’s all in good fun.” He pauses, his gaze steady on you, warm with affection. “Niklaus wouldn’t dare break one of Mother’s rules,” he reassures you, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your breath catches at the tenderness in his touch, but you aren’t fully swayed. “Kol…” you begin, but he cuts you off gently with a playful nudge, clearly eager to move on from the moment.

“Now,” he says, a mischievous glint still in his eyes, “go finish getting ready. We wouldn’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

He gives you one last smile before turning to leave, still carrying that lighthearted arrogance that both frustrates and charms you in equal measure. You let out a weary sigh, shaking your head, as if to physically rid yourself of the frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You know better than to argue with Kol when he’s in one of his moods. As much as you want to argue, to make him understand, you recognize the futility in it. Kol is Kol— charming, reckless, and utterly impossible to control.

You can’t help but watch him for a moment, the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. A soft rustling sounds from across the room, and you catch sight of Esther’s figure as she steps toward Finn, summoning him for what is likely another private meeting. You’ve become all too familiar with the urgency in her tone these past few days— the need to push forward, to set everything in motion before the final hour.

That sharp pang of guilt hits you again, this time deeper, sharper, as the weight of your purpose presses down on you. You remember the true reason behind your return— why you were brought through the veil of the Other Side. You were meant to help Esther destroy everything you had once loved. Your family.

When Esther first appeared to you on the Other Side, she came as an unsettling whisper— offering you a chance to return, to see Kol again. But with that offer, came a price. She spoke of vengeance, of the Mikaelsons’ monstrous sins, and the desperate need to put an end to their immortal lives. The thought of betraying them, of helping the woman who had once so desperately tried to save them, had felt impossible. You had never seen the Mikaelsons as monsters, and the very idea of murdering them was abhorrent to you.

Theirs had been the only family you’d ever known, and even after death, your love for them, for Kol especially, had never wavered. How could you betray them?

And yet, the pull of Kol’s memory was undeniable. The desperate yearning to hold him, to be close to him again after all those years, twisted your heart into something darker, something willing to overlook the weight of betrayal in favor of a fleeting, fragile reunion. Two weeks. That was the offer. Two weeks to be with him again, to feel his presence and love one last time.

Now, it feels like a hollow, idiotic decision. To sacrifice his life— for two weeks. How had you ever thought that could be enough? After all, you had died to save him once, only to throw his life away for a moment of personal happiness. The enormity of that decision makes your chest tighten, suffocating you in its finality.

You glance over at the Mikaelson siblings, their voices drifting through the air, light and carefree. Kol, teasing Rebekah as she rolls her eyes. Elijah, offering a rare chuckle at one of Kol’s more ridiculous remarks. For a moment, the room feels suspended in time. The warmth, the joy, the familiarity of it all. It feels so... so normal.

But all you can do is offer them half-hearted smiles, your thoughts lost in the suffocating weight of the knowledge hanging over you. By the end of the night, you will be sealing their fates. The pain in your chest flares again, sharper now, as you look at Kol. His smile— so effortless, so genuine— shatters you. How could you do this? You think, heart heavy with regret.

Their laughter echoes in your ears, and it suddenly feels cruel. The humor, the happiness— it’s a cruel irony, knowing that it’s all about to be torn apart.

-*-

“The doppelgänger has arrived,” you announce, feeling her energy the moment she steps through the mansion’s doors. Your voice is steady despite the churning in your chest. You try to ignore the unease tightening your stomach, but it’s no use. The guilt of the plan looms ever larger.

Esther looks up from the table, her fingers poised over the arcane materials laid out before her— materials meant to bind the Mikaelson siblings together in a way that could never be undone. A soft smile tugs at her lips, one that’s full of satisfaction, like a puzzle piece finally falling into place.

“Excellent. The plan is coming together perfectly,” she says, her tone airy with triumph. Rising from her seat, she glances between you and Finn, her pride radiating from her. “I am proud of you both,” she adds, her gaze lingering longer on you, and you can almost feel her approval burn through you like a silent command.

Finn responds as expected, a soft bow of his head, the quiet humility of the eldest Mikaelson always present. You, however, simply offer a carefully controlled smile, masking the turmoil stirring inside you. You’ve spent enough years under Esther’s influence to know how to wear a mask, but it’s never been more difficult than now.

Esther clasps her hands together, her face hardening into something resolute. “You two should join the ball before anyone becomes suspicious. I’ll join you shortly,” she says, her voice cutting through the air with a finality that brooks no argument.

You nod, but the command weighs heavily on you..

With a curtsy that feels forced, you exit the elder witch’s chamber, Finn falling into step behind you. The click of your heels echoes through the hall as the two of you walk in silence. It feels like an eternity before you finally break it, your voice quiet but laced with an undercurrent of disbelief.

“Are you truly willing to sacrifice your life to further Esther’s plans?” you ask, unable to mask the bewilderment in your tone. Finn has always been loyal to her— his willingness to follow her blindly never ceased to astonish you— but this? To give up everything, including his life, for something that is, at its core, a betrayal of his own family? It doesn’t sit right.

Finn’s answer comes without hesitation. “I am,” he says solemnly, his face unreadable. “I am deeply ashamed of what I and my siblings have become. Mother’s plan for us is a gift—a freedom from the shame of our monstrous existence.” His words are heavy with conviction, but beneath them, you hear the faintest hint of desperation.

You nod, trying to suppress the growing ache in your chest. You understand him in a way— you once believed the same things. Esther’s words were like gospel to you back then. She had saved you, taught you to believe in her cause.

But somewhere along the way, that idealism faded, the weight of reality replacing it. You cannot see the plan the way Finn does, with all its promise of redemption. The quiet tragedy of it all makes your heart ache. You wish he had outgrown this naïve faith, the same way you had.

Your disappointment must be evident, because Finn leans closer to you, his expression softening just a fraction. He whispers, “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

You freeze at the question, your stomach dropping. “Of course not,” you reply, feigning offense, though it’s more out of instinct than anything else. “The balance of nature was disrupted when Esther granted you immortality; it’s only right that this imbalance be corrected.”

Finn nods, satisfied with your false reassurance, and heads off toward the doppelgänger. You can hear his footsteps fade, but your thoughts remain with him, tangled in a web of guilt and regret.

As Finn disappears from view, you let out a brief, quiet sigh, the weight of your decision pressing down on you like a physical burden. But it’s quickly overshadowed by the sense of someone approaching— him.

Kol’s presence fills the space behind you with warmth, but that warmth does little to thaw the coldness seeping into your bones. The comfort of his nearness is only a fleeting reprieve from the crushing reality of your guilt.

The moment he draws near, you stiffen, and you can barely bring yourself to meet his gaze. His presence, as always, is magnetic, but now, it feels like a slow burn— intoxicating and dangerous. You’ve never been able to hide anything from Kol, especially not the way you feel about him, but right now, the weight of your betrayal is too much.

“There you are, darling,” Kol says, his voice warm and affectionate, like a comforting balm to your restless heart. His eyes sparkle with that mischievous yet sincere gleam, and for a moment, the weight of everything else fades as he steps closer. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

The sincerity in his tone makes everything feel even more unbearable. It twists in your chest, amplifying the heavy knot of guilt lodged there. You want to meet his eyes, want to return his affection with the same warmth, but the deception you're entangled in is too overwhelming. His words should bring you comfort, but they only serve to heighten your sense of impending betrayal.

Kol stops in front of you, his gaze drinking you in, and you catch the awe in his eyes— the way he looks at you now, as if you were a treasure he’d long lost and finally found again, makes your heart ache.

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and it causes your cheeks to flush a deep crimson. The compliment, so effortlessly given, only deepens the knot inside you. You want to smile, to accept his praise with the same joy he’s giving it, but it’s difficult to reconcile the beauty he sees before him with the dark truth lurking behind it.

You lower your gaze, unsure of how to handle this moment where his admiration feels both like a gift and a weight. Kol notices the way you shy away, and his smile only grows, delighted by your modesty, though there’s a tenderness in the way his eyes soften.

He steps closer, his hand lifting your chin with a gentleness that feels like it’s meant to reassure you. Your heart skips a beat as his fingers graze your skin, so familiar, so Kol. When his gaze locks onto yours, it’s as if the world falls away—there’s no Esther, no plan, no guilt... just him.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

The kiss is a spark of warmth that spreads through you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. It's the same feeling you had when he kissed you all those centuries ago, when you were alive, when you could never have imagined the distance time would create between you.

You want to lose yourself in the tenderness of the moment, to forget everything but Kol and the love he’s offering, but the sharp edge of reality cuts through the haze. This is not a simple reunion. This is not the sweet promise of forever. This is a stolen moment, tainted by the knowledge that you will soon betray him in ways you can't yet fully comprehend.

When Kol pulls away, his eyes remain locked on yours, his smile gentle and full of affection. “I am so happy to have you back,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing.

His words are meant to comfort, but instead, they deepen the ache in your chest. The warmth of his sentiment is a stark contrast to the cold reality you’re living. You want to tell him everything— that you’re not who you used to be, that you have to make hard choices, that your love for him is bound up in a betrayal so great it makes you sick— but the words won’t come. Instead, you just stand there, caught in the weight of your own silence.

The tenderness in his gaze is so overwhelming, it makes your heart ache in ways that no longer feel sweet. The shame creeps in, tightening its grip, suffocating the joy that his presence should bring.

You wish you could feel the same peace, the same certainty that Kol exudes in this moment. But the truth is, you’re already drowning in the lies you’ve woven, and the deeper you go, the harder it will be to come back up.

Elijah’s commanding voice cuts through the heavy air. "Attention, everyone," he calls, the authority in his tone silencing the room instantly. His intervention is a welcome relief, allowing you a moment to steady yourself before Kol can ask more questions, questions you’re desperately trying to avoid.

Kol’s arm remains possessively around your waist, as he guides you toward the grand staircase— a protective gesture that, for all its warmth, feels like a chain locking you to this moment. The familiar sensation of his touch should comfort you, but tonight it only adds to the weight pressing down on your chest.

“Welcome. Thank you for joining us,” Elijah continues, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room. His presence always commands attention, and tonight it is no different. As you stand on the grand staircase with the Mikaelsons, you scan the crowd below, hoping to catch a glimpse of the doppelgänger. If you can speak with her, if you can convince her to leave before Esther has her ear, maybe you can stop this madness. Maybe you can save them.

But deep down, you know it’s futile. Esther’s plan is already set in motion, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

“You know, whenever my mother brings our family together like this, it's tradition to begin the evening with a dance,” he announces smoothly, with just the right mix of warmth and command. His words stir a strange mix of nostalgia and dread within you.

You knew this night would come— when they would all stand together, united for the first time in a thousand years. And yet, as much as you’d once longed for a reunion like this, now it feels like a cruel joke. The only reason you’ve been brought together is so they can die.

You feel a shiver creep down your spine as Elijah continues. “Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz, so if all of you could please find yourself a partner, join us in the ballroom.”

Kol’s hand tightens gently around your waist, pulling you a little closer. You instinctively lean into him, seeking the comfort of his touch, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the world could be perfect again. You exchange a look with him, both of you remembering the first time you danced this waltz— back on your wedding day, a lifetime ago. The melody, the rhythm, the elegance— it all floods back to you in a rush.

For a brief moment, the weight of your guilt lifts, and you allow yourself to smile up at him, sharing in the memory of a love that once seemed untouchable. The familiar waltz fills the space, and you can almost pretend, just for a second, that everything is as it should be. 

As the dance continues, your heart grows heavier with every step you take, the crushing weight of your impending betrayal sinking into your bones.

You feel nauseous. The closeness of Kol’s embrace, once a safe haven, now feels like a prison. The tenderness in his touch only serves to amplify the guilt that gnaws at you, relentless and unforgiving. Every step of the waltz feels like a step closer to your destruction.

“Are you alright, darling?” Kol’s voice, soft and concerned, pulls you out of your spiraling thoughts. You blink, meeting his gaze for a split second, but immediately look away. You can’t bear to see the warmth and love in his eyes— eyes that once trusted you without question, eyes that you’re about to break forever.

You nod faintly, too scared to speak, afraid that your voice might betray the turmoil inside you. Kol studies you for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing his features, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls you closer, his hand moving to the small of your back as he leads you through the steps of the waltz with practiced grace.

As the dance progresses, your heart races, each step you take with Kol serving as a cruel reminder of what you stand to lose. The beauty of the moment, the elegance of the ballroom, feels hollow now. Every spin, every glide across the floor, only deepens your sense of isolation, as if the room is closing in around you.

You try to focus on the music, on the rhythm, on the familiar warmth of Kol’s touch, but it’s impossible to ignore the gnawing truth: by the end of the night, you will have sealed their fates. And no amount of dancing, no amount of love, will change that. You need a way out. You need to stop this. But how?

Kol, ever perceptive, senses your unease. His brow furrows in concern, his gaze flickering down to you as he keeps the dance steady. “Y/N,” he whispers softly, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite yourself. “You’ve been behaving strangely all day. What’s wrong?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache. How can you lie to him again? How can you wear this mask when he’s so close, when he’s giving you the same love he always has? You know you’re being unfair to him, to the love he believes is unshakable, but the truth is, it feels impossible to escape the web Esther has woven around you.

You sigh, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, hoping to keep your facade intact. "Nothing," you reply, the word coming out more breathlessly than you intend. You attempt a nervous giggle, a small, hollow sound that you hope will deflect his concerns. "I guess I’m still adjusting. This new world is so different from how it was a thousand years ago."

Kol’s eyes narrow slightly, and though he doesn't speak, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his gaze probing deeper than you would like. You’ve never been able to fool him for long. Kol always did have a knack for reading between the lines.

He slows the dance, his hand resting more firmly at the small of your back, pulling you even closer, his body a solid warmth against yours. The intimacy of the gesture should comfort you, but it only heightens the sense of isolation gnawing at your insides. He’s here, so present, so full of affection— and yet you’re already slipping away from him.

For a long moment, you hold his gaze, not daring to look away. You know that breaking eye contact will only give away the truth of your turmoil. His stare softens, but there’s a glimmer of doubt in his eyes that you can’t ignore. Still, after a beat, he seems to let it go, accepting your lie for the moment.

He pulls you closer, his arm circling you tighter, and you feel the gentle pressure of his embrace, as though trying to shield you from the weight of the world. “I’m here, darling. You can tell me what’s bothering you whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs, his voice laced with tenderness, the words offering a strange comfort even as they add to the burden.

You want to tell him, you really do. You want to share your fears, your guilt, your plans to stop Esther— but you can’t. Not yet. So instead, you bury your head against his chest, feeling the familiar steadiness of his heartbeat. The rhythmic sound should be soothing, but tonight it only reminds you of the time slipping away.

The music swells again, and for a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes, to block out the noise of the world and lose yourself in the movement. The feel of his arms around you, the steady cadence of the waltz, the warmth of his breath—everything about this moment feels like a lifetime ago.

If this is all you have left with him, if your time together truly is limited, then you will savor every second. The guilt of your deception, the knowledge of what’s to come—it presses against you with suffocating force, but you push it down, deep into the pit of your stomach, refusing to let it destroy this last dance, this last moment of peace.

Kol doesn’t know. He doesn't know that the very family he’s protecting will soon turn on him. He doesn’t know that the love you share, so fragile and delicate, is the price for your family’s survival. But for now, you let him hold you. For now, you let yourself be consumed by the beauty of this one final dance.

As you sway in Kol’s arms, his touch steady and reassuring, you let your breath slow, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. He’s right there with you, strong and unwavering.

His love, so constant and true, is a balm for your frayed nerves. You allow yourself to bask in it, closing your eyes and surrendering to the comfort of his presence.

Kol notices the subtle shift in you. The tension in your shoulders loosens, your movements more fluid as you relax into him. He looks down, his umber eyes scanning your face with a mix of affection and concern. Your serene smile doesn’t escape him, and for a brief moment, the weight on his own chest lightens. Still, the unease in his eyes never quite dissipates. He can’t ignore it—something is wrong, and he knows it.

Gently, Kol presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, the tenderness of it making your heart ache. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze, and you’re once again drawn into the warmth of his soul. His eyes—the deep, endless umber that always felt like home to you—hold a question, unspoken but palpable.

You return his smile, a bittersweet ache in your chest. Here, in his arms, everything feels right. He’s here. He’s with you. And yet, the world outside this moment is crumbling. But for a fleeting second, you let the world blur, wishing this moment could last forever.

With a soft exhale, you tilt your head slightly, closing the distance between you, and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s both tender and desperate. When you pull back, the words slip from your lips, whispered in a voice barely louder than the music around you.

"I love you, Kol. Forever."

His eyes soften, his lips curling into that familiar, affectionate smile— the one that makes your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge. "Forever," he echoes, his voice thick with emotion, as if he knows, just as you do, that forever feels like a fragile thing when everything around you is crumbling.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don't specify, I'll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

Taglist: @chaoticfanpeach @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut @catmikaelson20

[midnight-fables]

Entry 11: Fistful of Tacks

Bearblr Promptober Day 11: Corn Maze

Summary: Carmen's girlfriend (who he refers to as Darling) joins the kitchen crew on a trip to a corn maze and pumpkin patch that Nat organized, and Carmen is struggle bussing. (Feat. Sydney, Marcus, mentions of Tina, Richie, Eva, Nat, Pete, Nat's daughter)

Warnings: Anxiety, self-worth issues, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of nausea, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described), she/her pronouns, mentions of The Devil (Chef David)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

11 Oct 2024

Why the fuck do people like corn mazes?

No, thank you, I don’t feel like getting lost in fucking corn with a bunch of random people for hours; I could be doing so much more with my time. It’s corn. It invades everything in the Midwest already, for what purpose would you want to intentionally seek out more of that invasion? Getting some freshly-harvested corn for grilled corn, corn chowder, creamy corn sauce with gnocchi, I’m pretty sure Marcus could make a killer sweet cornbread crumble-type thing—sure, I’ll haul my ass to the nearest fucking cornfield—

“Is that a no on the corn maze then…?”

“It’s a fuck no on the corn maze, Syd.”

—But no, I’m not doing a damned corn maze.

Syd recoiled. “Oh. Alright, okay, Jesus. Sorry for bothering you.”

Darling hugged my arm tighter and pouted. “Aw, but I did them with my grandma all the time when I was little. They were so fun.”

I covered my eyes and dug my thumb and fingers into my temples to stave off the dull ache forming in my frontal lobe. “I don’t feel like getting lost in corn.”

Syd. “You just follow the left wall, though.”

Marcus joined us at our table. “You do what now?”

“That’s how you solve mazes, you follow the left wall.”

“Huh.” His voice drew closer to my ear. “You okay, Chef?”

I nodded. Still had my palm over my face. It wasn’t the loudest it could’ve been—again, we beat a lot of families with kids, who tended to show up after 2 pm, according to the people who ran the pumpkin patch and corn maze, and Chicago decided that particular Sunday would be the respite day of hell-with-some-respite season, so it wasn’t murderously hot or humid out. Richie and Tiff were off co-parenting Eva in the pumpkin patch, so that meant I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit—though, admittedly, he was much less bullshit since his stint at Ever, even if we hit that snag after Friends and Family where I thought about launching knives at him every time he happened to be within striking distance.

Boy, am I glad I’m too much of a coward to actually act like the animal I sound like sometimes.

Nat organized something of a family and friends’ get-together to celebrate half a year of being open as a restaurant—and maybe to force us all to take a bit of a break now that we weren’t looking at a bad week potentially shuttering us. I brought it up to Darling not expecting her to jump at the prospect of meeting the whole group—should’ve known, she’s a social butterfly, and, if I was being honest, it was the primary reason I asked. So, she could help buffer in a social setting. These were people I worked with, would take a bullet for, but outside the restaurant, I had barely any social footing. And I wanted to. Have social footing, that is. Darling liked being around people, and while she never complained about me wanting our time together to be our time together, something nagged at me to at least be able to tolerate socializing.

We met up and poked around the market they had nearby for some small decorations we could put in the restaurant that fit the season. Little things that locals made by hand—a macrame wall-hanging, little ceramic pumpkins with paper florals arranged in them, some planters. The planters were Syd’s idea. Bring a bit of greenery to the four-tops. Tina was fawning over Sug and Pete’s baby while they took pictures of her first fall. Or. Something. I don’t know, I had too much on my mind and my head was killing me before we even made it to the pumpkin patch and corn maze. Darling suggested we stop for a bite to eat, sit at the covered tables to get out of the sun for a bit.

She’s smart like that.

We weren’t doing the best with our margins. I forwent being paid to make sure Syd made enough to keep her apartment, and even she was making sacrifices in her pay to make sure front-of-house didn’t get shafted. About 2 weeks ago, my apartment's stove goes, then two of the radiators do, and the landlord—an aside here: fuck landlords. I hope hell exists so landlords can burn in them with me.—anyway, the landlord is being a shit about it, so I’ve been crashing at Darling’s place. But then her range and oven also go to the shitter, like, 3 days later?

Like I said: fuck landlords.

Which means I’m on week two of having to rely on overnight oats and fucking granola bars, family, and takeout or unviable food from service that’s still at least calories, and because we’re getting this shit dialed, that usually means scraps. If any. And you’d think a motherfucker like me who got his shit kicked in when working in New York would be able to tolerate eating literally anything, but that’s the thing—I already did this shit, and it’s already fucked me up. I can’t even get it down anymore without my arms and legs exploding in goosebumps. Without seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling Empire and The Devil all over again. Half the time, I just go hungry and ignore the pangs in my stomach until I get caught up enough in work that I forget about eating, and then whoops, 14 hours have gone by and I haven’t eaten a thing and bile surges at the base of my throat and my eyes water, I can’t breathe. And I get to Darling’s place with what used to be a local favorite, and four bites in, I’m so sure I’m going to throw up because it just tastes like stomach acid and my guts are twisting into knots from anxiety anyway.

Something slid across the table in front of me, and two breaths later, the scent of grilled meat, pepper, vinegar, onions, and mustard filled my nose. My jaw stung as my mouth watered. Darling untangled an arm from around mine and rubbed across my shoulder blades.

“How about we try to eat something, hm?” she cooed.

I picked the pickles off the Chicago dog before inhaling a third of it in one bite. Goosebumps exploded under my jacket.

“Wow, how’d you do that?” Syd asked.

“How’d I do what?”

“Get him to do, uh, anything?”

“Fuck off, Syd,” I said through a mouthful of food.

She snorted into her apple cider.

“Sweetheart,” Darling warned, punctuating it by raking her fingers through my hair to get it off my forehead.

“She did not just call you ‘sweetheart.’” Syd again. I could hear her smiling.

My face flooded with warmth.

God fucking dammit.

Thankfully, Marcus spoke up. “Come on, let ‘em have it or we’re gonna torment you when you find yourself someone nice.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh, I’ll remember! Karma, baby!”

Syd let out a huff of a laugh. I wish I would’ve seen her face to get a better sense of how she felt about the idea of letting someone into her life. It’s strange, really, how similar yet different we were, like two clippings taken from the same tree, planted in different pots, placed in different homes. There’s this deep, unidentifiable thread of connection that I feel with her—and she feels with me, I’m sure of it because how else could she call my bullshit for what it was while still preserving the feeling of safety that eluded me everywhere else but a locked room or, sparingly, though getting more frequent, in Darling’s arms? Sort of like a family member you haven’t seen in an eternity but you know would have your back in an instant if you got into trouble. If I’d found out we were twins separated at birth, I wouldn’t question it for a second. And I doubt I’d want to protect her any differently.

She’s got that fire in her eyes that I used to see in my own when I stared into my reflection back in Copenhagen. Feels like an entire lifetime ago (Darling told me that trauma can make time feel like it’s not real, and I’m only finding more and more reason to never doubt the woman) but, back then, I did want something out of cooking that went beyond flipping Mikey the bird. It wasn’t that I wanted the best chef title or even a bullshit star, I wanted to prove something to myself. I wanted to throw a fistful of tacks back at that persistent, shitty voice in my head that kept telling me that I’d never do much, never make a thing of myself. I never did well in school, I didn’t get into college, I didn’t have any friends, I wasn't funny, I couldn’t help my mom, I couldn’t stop Sugar from going mad, I couldn’t keep up with Mikey, I couldn’t ask Claire out, I never made it past districts in wrestling—I was good for fuck all, and that stupid fucking phonograph reminding me of all the shit I couldn’t or didn’t do wouldn’t shut. The fuck. Up.

Syd’s got that fire in her eyes. Syd’s got that passion that I wanted, that I found for a brief stint before The Devil sunk his claws into me. And yeah, I could do fuck all to protect Mikey from his own demons or Sugar from mom’s, but I will glass this planet before I let it stamp out her flames. And doing it like I did? By cutting out people and burying myself neck-deep in the craft of food? Would I stand by and let her do that to herself, too?

Darling erupting into a giggle fit brought me back to the pumpkin patch.

“It looks like it’s got a big ol’ pot belly—look at it!” Syd pointed at a pumpkin with a large lump in it and did an exaggerated walk with her arms up and her cheeks puffed out. Eva giggled at her antics. Darling and I were a bit away from the others as they discussed... something about the pumpkins, I couldn’t even begin to figure out what. I glanced around, tried to get a sense of where and when I was.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Darling murmured, circling around in front of me and taking my face in her hands. “There you are. Where’d you go?”

Her hands were cool, familiar, grounding. I didn’t feel like I was boiling in my skin, which had to be a good sign, right?

“How-how long, uh...?”

She shrugged as Cousin, Eva, Tiff, Syd, and Marcus laughed again. “15 minutes, maybe.”

“Why-why didn’t you snap me out of it?”

“Well, you did eat your food. I figured it probably was a good idea not to interrupt that. And you weren’t warm. Or shaky. Or upset.” She finger-combed my hair back again. “I figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing to let you process for a bit... We gotta do something about your hair, baby.”

“Yeah, I need to get it cut.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you need to—unless it’s bothering you. But you should put something in it.” Some strands got caught on her fingers, and I flinched at the sting. “Ope, sorry. It’s starting to get crispy on the ends.”

I eyeballed the sign pointing to the entrance of the corn maze while she picked through more knots in my hair.

She kissed my cheek. “What’cha thinking, handsome?”

“How long do you think the corn maze would take us?”

“Um. Hm.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her head under my chin. I forgot about the friends and family present and hugged her back. Kissed the top of her head. “Maybe an hour. Why?”

“I’d like to try it.” It came out like a question.

My phone dinged.

She pulled back and beamed at me. “Yeah? You sure?”

Her excitement wrenched a smile from me, too. How could I not? She was adorable.

“Yeah. Just need some quiet time.”

She took off for the maze, and I followed. Glanced at my phone to make sure it wasn’t something important.

2 messages from Sugar.

A photo of the two of us hugging, followed by a message saying, “You two are so cute. I'm proud of you, Bear.”

I stopped, glanced back at her. She was holding her daughter, giant smile on her face, in the middle of pocketing her phone. She tipped her head in the direction of the maze and mouthed “Go.”

I saved the photo to my favorites album and headed to the corn maze.

[llovely-12]

The End is near

-------------------------------------------------------

-------------------------------------------------------

Ot9 Twice x female reader {Platonic}

Warnings: Angst, tenth-member reader, no happy ending, slight homophobia, hate comments

Story: seven years of Twice. Most of the members are sure to renew their contract, yet one member struggles with the decision.

Authors note: I finally finished this work. It took pretty long due to school starting again and other stuff happening, yet I finally finished it. I hope you enjoy the read♥︎

-------------------------------------------------------

Jeongyeons apartment is filled with life. Laughter bounces of the walls, and a happy atmosphere is spread throughout the apartment. It's one of their game nights.

Twice has been together for over seven years now. Even longer if you think about the trainee days. Those ten women have reached so much together. Almost all of their moments have been spent with each other.

Everyone sits around a large table. The board game Monopoly is placed in the middle of the table. Some members like Momo and Sana are already broke, while others like Jihyo and Nayeon still fight for the win. Everyone is having a lot of fun. It's rare to see the group together like this outside of work. Their private lives mostly filled work related stuff.

Jihyo sets her figure three steps ahead and groans. Dahyun grins.

"That'll be five hundred Won for me, please." She smiles mischievously. Jihyo walked onto a street that Dahyun owned and just built a house on. Jihyo grumbles and grabs a five hundred Won note and hands it to the younger member.

Nayeon laughs at Jihyo's money loss and continues her turn by buying another street. Now Nayron had the most money and the most streets. The oldest member and the leader of the group often got in fights over board games like this. Both of them are too competitive to let the other win.

Jeongyeon refills the glasses around the table and opens yet another snack box. Momo immediately grabs some snacks and pops them into her mouth while watching the game. Boo and dobby sit by her chair and dose off.

It's your turn. You throw the dice and move your figure right onto Nayeons precious little street. Or rather her death trap. The street is full of one hotel and another house. Nayeon smirks into your direction and holds out her hand for the money. You sigh and count for the amount. Unfortunately, your entire money goes to Nayeon, kicking you out of the game as well.

Jeongyeon only chuckles and puts a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

"You know how she is. She just can not lose for shit."

You nod and lean into your unnies arms. She embraces you and rests her head on your shoulder. Sana also snuggles into you and rests her head on your other shoulder. The three of you now watch Jihyo and Nayeon kick the school meal club out of the game.

You have to hold Nayeon and Jihyo back to not kill each other in the end. The game ends with two winners. Jeongyeon quickly hides the board games so that no other member is put at risk.

Mina sits down next to you. A nice and quiet conversation starts. Most of the members are occupied with their own task now, the night ending in a warm and comfortable feeling.

☆★

The clock strikes two AM. Sweat rolls of your face. It's another sleepless night for you. The stress has been eating you up lately.

Ever since the company suggested a solo, you've been filled with anxiety. It would be the first time being alone, having to perform without Twice. You roll over and reach for your bedside table. An already opened pack of sleeping pills meets your hand. You pop one into your mouth and drown it with a bit of water.

The hope for a good amount of sleep fills your mind as you try to get comfortable under the sheets. You stare at the wall ahead of you. Pictures of you and your friends and family greet you. There are also pictures of Twice.

You've been together for seven years. It's a crazy amount of time. Nothing has ever separated you and the group. So, the thought of being alone during a solo just made you anxious. You still don't know how any of your Unnies did so well during their solos.

After careful consideration, you reach for your phone and make a call. You wait patiently until you hear her soft, but groggy voice.

"Y/n? It's late. Is everything okay?"

"Mina unnie, how did you feel during your first solo with Misamo?"

Mina sighs. She has already talked with you about your chance to get a solo debut. She knew how you felt about it, and she knew that you needed solitude more than ever.

"I'm heading over. Is your key still under the plant?" You hum and hang up.

-

Mina finds you curled up in bed. Your eyes stare up at her. It's clear that you're tired. Mina's thoughts went back to her own solo with Misamo and the time where she went on hiatus.

She carefully gets under the covers and holds you close. The comfortable silence is enough to calm you down. Her hands rub your back and lull you into a state of drowsiness.

"It was scary at first. Being away from the members during a solo is never easy. I know I had Sana and Momo. They helped me a lot. I know the members are proud of you, and we will all support you. You don't have to be so nervous. I will always be available for you."

Her words give you more clearance on the situation, a new perspective you needed desperately. Mina knew her way with words and how to calm a member. She was in that position once herself.

You don't say anything as no word cane to your mind. It was already occupied with the thoughts of the Twice members visiting you during your solo. How proud each of them would look. Dahyun would cry while looking at you with those bright and fond eyes. Jihyo would empower you in every step. Each member had their own way of showing support.

The effects of the sleeping pill slowly start. Your brain starts shutting off. It's like the medication switches off one light switch after the other. Mina keeps holding you until you fall asleep. She takes her leave shortly after, leaving a note on your bedside table to assure you that she is fine and had a meeting early in the morning.

Your dreams haven't been this happy in weeks. They're filled with happy faces and warm gestures, making you excited for your new solo.

☆★

It is a chilly night. You spent your evening at this bar on the outskirts of seoul. Your goal is not to be recognized, as this has happened almost every time you went out. Most idols seek out secret spots only to be left alone and relapse the old trainee days. You sit in one of the corners. The bars' lights are darkened down. The entire place has a dark and smokey vibe to it.

You sip a few times at your soju glass. Alcohol was never really your thing, though you liked the little get-together you achieved through it. You stare at your phone and enjoy the calm atmosphere of the bar. The music is soft and not overbearing, perfect if you want to have a conversation.

You glance around the seats and spot on of your colleagues, Kang Seulgi. She smiles at you. Her hands secure her glaas while she makes her way over to you. You've met plenty before throughout award shows, yet you occasionally met up with the other idol.

"Didn't think you would be here." Seulgi smiles at you and sits down on the chair next to you.

"Yeah, I needed some peace from all of the stress. This bar is just amazing for that."

Seulgi nods in understanding. She orders new drinks for both of you and starts a light conversation. Her talks keep your mind occupied with the current situation. It's good that someone doesn't pressure you into work talks. Then it is also nice to talk to someone who's not Twice. You love your unnies with all your heart, but you also need someone who's not part of everything you do.

Seulgi is a great friend. She always had one ear open for you. You could tell her everything and she would listen. The best thing is, she sometimes didn't even suggest a way to help. She just listened to your troubles and let you rant about life.

A simple drink turned into a few more, and soon, you were all fuzzy. Seulgi decides it's time to call it a night. She securely leads you out of the bar after paying for both of your checks. Her hand rests on your lower back while she leads you out of the bar and onto the streets of seoul. The temperature had fallen throughout your stay at the bar. Seulgi is quick to put her warm jacket around your shoulders.

The friendship you had was always platonic. You simply cherished the time you and seulgi spent together, and you knew she did too. Her love almost resembles one of an older sister. There would never be anything romantic going of between you two.

Some paparazzi of dispatch thought differently. Their cameras already pointed at the scene. At the way, her hand rests at your lower back and how you look in her jacket. Headlines race through their heads while eagerly snapping pictures.

They follow you for a few streets before almost vanishing. Neither you nor Seulgi noticed the sneaky photo session. Dispatch paparazzi are the worst. They somehow always find a way of ruining someone's evening or their whole career.

Seulgi walks you home to your apartment and makes sure that you're safe and sound before departing and returning home herself.

Your sleep is peaceful, even though the headlines are already in production. Speculations and rumours have already been written down and formulated. Though this doesn't bother you, at least not now.

☆★

Your phone pulls you out of your deep sleep. You open your eyes slowly and glance onto the phone screen. Jihyo‘s profile picture shines brightly, underneath are the accept and the decline button. You scoff and decline her call. It’s still early, and you are not in the mood to talk right now.

Not even a minute passes until Jihyo calls you again. This time, you let the phone ring and decide not to answer at all. Jihyo waits until the ringing is over and almost yells into her phone.

'Pick up the fucking call Y/n!'

You startle and turn back to your phone. You hesitantly reach out and call Jihyo back. She answers immediately.

"Do you even know what's going on right now?!"

"No. Is it important? I'm really tired Jihyo and I-"

She cuts you off halfway through your sentence.

"Check the news, Y/n. The pictures are everywhere. Our manager ordered a meeting with the CEO. Please be at the company in two hours."

Jihyo hangs up after she's done. You stare at the wall and then at your phone. Why would the company need you at this hour? It is four AM. The meeting would be at six.

You check your emails and search for recent news to satisfy Jihyo's request. The pictures hit you like a truck. The headlines are even worse. The scene displayed on the pictures seems scandalous, at least to everyone who's not involved.

Seugi's hand on your lower back, her jacket around your shoulders, the look you give each other. It's everything the press needed to form half-hearted rumours. You read through some of the articles. It's hilarious. Everything speculated is far from the truth. Yet only you and seulgi know that.

A dating scandal was the last thing you expected right now. This would put some heavy bricks in your way. Let alone the fact that you and Seulgi are both women. The netizens will eat you up. They already are. The comments are brutal and violent.

You try to keep positive and get ready for the meeting.

☆★

"You're solo will be postponed until further notice. The backlash is too much right now. We also have to post an official statement."

"What? I thought the solo was already in production? You can't just postpone this. I was preparing for this already."

You let out your frustration at the sudden decision. Jihyo and your manager sit close to you. The leader of Twice shares your frustration.

"I'm sorry, but the situation is too tense right now. If we do release your solo, it would flop and result in low income. That's not something we'd want."

You lean back into your chair and look at the CEO. He's right with his arguments, yet this entire conversation seems stupid. All of this is only because of some stupid pictures.

"Ok, I'll wait with my solo."

"Very well then. It'll only be a few months until the heat is over, and we can get back to your solo. This is only for now. Please be careful with your privacy from now on and keep your surroundings in check."

You nod and get up. Jihyo follows you outside. The manager stays for some further discussions. Your steps are fast and firm. Jihyo stops you and hugs you tightly.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way. You know well support you through this, right? We will never leave you. Come on, I'll take you to my house. We'll eat something and watch a movie."

You smile and take Jihyos hand. She squeezes your hand in comfort and leads you out of the company building.

☆★

Almost a week has passed now. Everyone tries to comfort you and support you through this hard time. The hate has been getting worse. Your social media is filled with hate comments from netizens. Other K-pop idols avoid you at award shows or events. It's like you're carrying the bobanic plaque. You haven't posted in a while since everything you do is taken out of context. Reporters and paparazzi wait for you and question your every move. One wrong step and the ice could break.

The company released a statement two days after the headlines. The content was rather simple, only stating that you and Seulgi were nothing more than friends. S.M. entertainment did the same. Both companies tried their best to hide the scandal.

You haven't seen Seulgi ever since. It's not clear if the company is holding her back or if she is keeping a distance to you because of personal reasons. You know Seulgi would never ignore you on purpose, but her group is facing a comeback, and things need to go smoothly.

Fans overseas are already shipping you two. Their enthusiasm for a queer K-pop couple is huge. They don't seem to get the memo that neither you nor Seulgi are exactly fond of this. The attention only makes the situation worse. Korean fans are already on your back. Their comments are hateful and drag you down.

All the while, your friends, family, and Twice tried everything to cheer you up. Though their efforts are not enough. You have spent the time being at the apartments of your members. Mostly jihyo since she is your biggest help right now. They look after you and care for you in every fitting moment.

Jihyo knocks at the door to her guest room. She offered you to sleep in the same bed as her for comfort, but you won't open up.

"Y/n? Are you hungry? I made your favourite. I'll leave it for you in the kitchen."

She listens to the silence on the other side of the door for a while. You've never been this quiet. Other scandals may have affected you, but this is on a completely other level. Nothing cheers you up anymore.

"Jeongyeon is coming over later. Maybe you can come out and talk to her."

Jihyo really hopes that you start being yourself again. She can't face the idea of you being this depressed. Her footsteps get quieter as she walks away from the door. You sniffe and push your face into the pillow.

☆★

"How is she?"

Jeongyeons voice is laced with worry. She holds onto the cup of tea Jihyo made her. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and the muscles in her face are tense. Her stomach is curled up tight, the cramps hurting her in a more metaphorical way.

Almost every Twice member felt the same. It's like everyone is tied to a red string, pulling every time something bad happens. The feeling spreads through the group, causing a crack in their used comfort. No matter where the members are, this feeling would haunt them into every corner of the earth. Neither time nor space could consume this heartbreaking act.

"She barely leaves her room. She eats, though, that's a good thing. I don't know much. The door is locked every time I try to enter. She needs the space."

Jeongyeon nods. The string pulls again. A slight burn appears in her heart. Jihyo glances at Jeongyeon, noticing the burn and the string tugging, too.

"This is a lot. I understand her trouble."

Jeongyeon mutters and sets down the cup in fear of breaking it with her strong grip. She smiles at Jihyo.

"Let me talk to her."

Jeongyeon walks to the guest room, her footsteps calm and calculated, much different to Jihyo's fast and unsteady ones. She spends a good amount of time in front of the door, yet her words fall on deaf ears.

☆★

„More power! I need more energy guys!“

The dance instructor yells through the practice room. Synchronised footsteps strut around the dance floor. Sweat rolls of your face. This is the maybe hundred time you’ve gone through this dance routine. It’s a new dance for an upcoming album. The preparations would take another few months, but the company already planned this dance. This new song would be called ‚Ready to be‘.

„Y/n I need more energy! Don’t forget to stomp on the fourth beat!“

You breathe heavily and stomp as hard as you can. The other members do the same, creating a loud thud. After about another minute the song comes to an end. The dance instructor claps and announces a break.

“Y/n, could you please come to me for a second?“

Her gaze is fixed and does not show any emotion. You nervously walk over to her. Some of the Twice members gaze over at you. Their expressions filled with worry and sympathy.

„You clearly need to work on your dancing Y/n. It’s getting sloppier every practice we have.“

You try to protest and remind her of your current situation, but she shuts your attempt down very quickly.

„I know what happen, and I know your current situation. Look at the other members Y/n. They also have issues, and their issues were even worse than yours. I need you to focus on your current job, which is being an Idol. Don’t sit around and create your sob story.“

You stare at her face. How could she say this to your face. The last few weeks were absolute hell for you. You still can’t post on social media without getting death threads. All of this because some magazines decided that you and Seulgi are a couple.

Your expression drops and you have to take up every ounce of patience inside you to not yell at this woman in front of you. This speech from her just outrages you. She would never understand your struggles.

„If this is affecting you that bad then I suggest you drop your job as an Idol and pursue another career. You clearly are not suit for this, if such a small inconvenience destroys your whole being.“

Her words knock the air out of your stomach. How could someone be so cruel. You thought that the people within the company would understand your struggles, but you failed to realise that no one would support you as much after that incident. You should’ve noticed after the higher ups postponed your solo debut. The only support you’ve got are your members. They would never turn their back on you.

Jihyo walks over, her expression set. She must’ve heard some snippets of the conversation.

„Y/n is doing perfectly fine during our practice. She had a hard time, give her some space.“

Jihyo‘s Hand falls onto the small of your back and comfortably caresses your skin. Her action calms you down a bit and her words disrupt the arrogant speech of your dance instructor. The face of the woman is now pulled together even tighter. Jihyo‘s words seemed to annoy her a lot.

„The break is over. Back to your positions!“

Her words echo through the room and pull everyone back onto the wooden floor. She shoots Jihyo a warning gaze before walking over to the sound board and waiting for you and Jihyo to get back in your position.

Jihyo scoffs and whispers in your ear.

„Don’t take her words seriously. She’s just being mean. I know you can do this. Remember how proud I am.“

She leads you to your position and gives your hip a comforting squeeze before getting into position herself. The song starts and you start dancing.

☆★

The MAMA award show is packed with idols, K-pop groups, and other korean celebrities. Twice has their seating in the back of the event hall. A camera is placed not too far away to capture their every reaction to the performances.

You sit between Sana and Dahyun, a blanket draped over your legs to ensure that no one can peek under your dress. Your performance is only a few songs away. Your manager is already arranging everything backstage.

-

The manager leads you backstage and into a free changing room. Stylists and make-up artists wait for you. You quickly change into your outfit and sit down for make-up refreshments.

While sitting still, you chat with Nayeon.

"Did you see the outfits from Itzy? They looked amazing. I wonder who did their dresses."

Nayeon nods and turns to you.

"Yeah, they looked absolutely stunning. I heard they got a new stylist. We can ask manager unnie later."

You hum. The make-up artist finishes up her touches and releases you from the chair. Tzuyu approaches you. Her small smile comforts you.

"Nervous?" She asks with a small chuckle. She likes to tease you before performances. You nod swiftly and send Tzuyu a nervous smile. She knew how you felt right now. The pressure of the performance tonight squished you like the water pressure did to the titanic. This would be your first performance since the fake dating scandal. You can’t mess up tonight.

Tzuyu puts her arms around you. They’re long enough to wrap around your body completely, her head resting on top of yours. She comforts you the best she can. Sometimes, all you need is a hug from Tzuyu. Some other members notice, yet they don't comment on it. They know better than to put you in a spotlight and bring you into an uncomfortable position.

The comforting hug gets broken as soon as the manager walks through the changing room, declaring that Twice would be the next group to perform. Tzuyu taps your shoulder a few times and then makes her way backstage. You take a moment and capture your thoughts. This performance is very important. You just have to be perfect.

„Y/n? Are you coming?“ Jihyo peeks through the door and watches you with concern. Her eyes flicker over your figure, immediately noticing your stress building up.

„Don’t worry honey, you’ll do great. Everyone things so.��� Her words soothe you. They give you a sense of calmness that you definitely needed. Her hand grazes yours, tightening around your fingers. She pulls you out of the changing room and leads you backstage. Immediately some techniques hook you up to a microphone. Their moves are hurried. Jihyo’s hand in your calms you down.

It’s only a few seconds, a fleeting moment until the lights shine in your face, blinding your eyes. Screams and chants can be heard. The air on stage is cold and bites at your exposed skin. Your eyes frantically move around. The ticking in your earpiece starts. The screams quieten down as the song start playing.

-

The song ends. You need to get off this stage. Your dance was off, and you made mistakes during the performance. Everything starts crashing down on you. The pressure you´ve felt the last few days was already weighting too much, and now this.

As soon as the lights turn low, you run off stage. The Members follow you, though not as hastily as you are. None of them really noticed your mistakes, being too focused on their own performance to observe the other members.

Jihyo is the first to notice that something is not right. She sees the way you breathe, or rather pant. Of course, performances are energy draining, but you never looked this exhausted after any performance. She makes her way over to you and crouches down to your level. HEr eyes fill up with worry, as she notices that it´s not the performance that made you behave like this.

Your eyes are flitting around the place, and your chest heaves almost like you can not breathe. Her hand quickly finds your shoulder, her fingers caressing the skin there.

"What´s wrong, Y/n?" Her voice is filled with concern. The leader always makes sure that every member is alright and well.

You don´t answer her question, being too occupied with this burning feeling in your chest. The tears well up in your eyes and blind your sight. Jihyo makes quick notice of that and updates her comfort with a securing hug.

Other members quickly notice the situation and bunch up around you. Everyone gives off a reassuring presence. Normally, you don´t like it when people crowd around you like this. Now, it helped you calm down.

Not one word was uttered the evening. Every member was focused on their own problems. Jihyo and Mina would check up on you occasionally and keep you away from social media. You were not in a shade to face the comments yet. If you ever were in the shape to face them. All that hard work ruined by just a few missteps.

Many thoughts occupied your head that night. Most of them were sure of one thing. Your life couldn´t go on like this.

☆★

You needed the change, the new perspective, so you decided for a hiatus. A quick break to pull you away from everything. All of the members were supportive of your decision. Mina and Jeongyeon helped you a lot, as they also went through a hiatus once.

You rented a small house in the nature side of South Korea. Your day consisted of working out and working on yourself during therapy. It took a lot of courage to even seek out a therapist and talk about your problems.

Some members visited you and tried to cheer you up. Jihyo was one of the more consistent members. Her care for you is huge, and she just needed to check up on you. Jihyo made sure that you were alright. She brought you some of your favourite snacks or other stuff that made you happy.

During the hiatus, you thought a lot about your career. Of course, you were grateful for your career path, and that everything eventually worked out the way it did. Yet, over the last few months, with the ocurring scandals, you thought about your place in the industry.

Were you really fit to be an Idol? Thinking about it, every Twice member had their own place in the Group. You just normally stand next to them and admire their being. Photoshoots often make you uncomfortable since you don´t know how to act in front of the camera. You don´t know how to act most of the time at all.

Thoughts keep spiralling in your head. This is all just a lot for you.

☆★

A Month has passed. The company called for a meeting. It´s about renewing the Contracts. Twice has been a part of the Idustry for Seven Years now, and it is time for a contract renewal. Most of the members are sure to pursue their careers and keep the group running.

The Managers talk about some buisness stuff, yet you can´t concentrate on their words. Their voices blur in with the other sounds of the office.

The meeting lasts for a few hours. You can´t remember anything of the things that were being said. Most of the members already made their way home. Everyone but Jeongyeon. You knew from her looks that she was struggling with the decision to continue.

You were not the only one struggling with the Idol life. Jeongyeon had to go on a hiatus due to surgery. When she came back, she got bombarded with a lot of backlash because of her body weight. Things were tough for her, too. Maybe a chat with her could clear up your own confused thoughts.

Jihyo made you lay down a promise that you would continue. She put a lot of pressure on you, unbeknowest to her, All she wanted was to cheer you up and give you a reason to stay. the other members made sure to send you messages with supportive words to underline their want for you to stay.

You felt warm at their words but also pressured to the max. Now, the decision between leaving and staying was heavier than ever. You still can´t decide which option is better. Of course you want to spend the rest of your life with these girls. they are the best thing that has ever happened to you. All of the hard work has paid off just to be with them and share moments of laughter and love. Yet, on the other hand, you wished nothing more than to get away from the prying eyes. Leave this place and heal your inner self from all the damage that has been done to you.

-

Jeongyeon sits in one of the recording studios that is located on the third floor. She has her phone in her hand on scrolls through it while paying almost no attention to her surroundings. So the surprise on her face is big when she feels you sitting down next to her. She puts her phone down to pay you her full attention.

At first you don´t know what to say. The words feel stuck in your throat. Jeongyeon notices this state of yours and decides to comfort you by putting a hand on your knee, Her fingers circle over your skin and soothe your thoughts immediately. You soon find your voice and ask her the most important question you have asked her since you first met her.

"You thought about not signing the contract too, right?"

Her eyes shoot up at the words register in her mind. You had noticed her nervous knee bounced during the meeting earlier. Only Nayeons' presence seemingly calmed her down. But now, Nayeon is not here. She has to face the raw truth alone. Her head moves up and down in a confirming nod. You breathe in and think for a while. The silence in the recording studio is deafening.

"I´ve thought about it too. I know Jihyo and the other members want me to keep going and pursue my dreams, but i think my dreams have changed. I can´t dream of this anymore without waking up and feeling the cold sweat on my body and the rush of blood in my veins. I´ts like a curse that folllows me until it swallows me whole."

Jeongyeon stunns at your words. She can resonate with the reason you´ve given her. Her reasons to not continue the path that Twice wants to go are different. She stops caressing your knee and takes a deep breath.

"I know things have been hard for you, I really do. You probably don´t know how many times I stood in front of the door of your house and thought about visiting you. Yet every time i got closer, every fibre in my body turned against it."

Now it's your turn to be surprised. Jeongyeon often joked around, but in quiet and serious moments, she knew how to act. Her words shot through your ears and into your heart.

"You have so much to achieve. And I do, too. Nayeon is there for me, and i know that. Everyone is behind you. Always remember that."

She gets up and leaves the room without saying another word. Jeongyeon really knew how to make you think. Her words burn into the walls of your brain and egrave a new thought. Maybe you shouldn´t leave. Maybe all of this was too precious to give up on.

☆★

Your eyes are focused on the contract in front of you. The contract that would control the next seven years of your life. You did this once, seven years ago. Then, you wanted nothing more than to sign this contract and just jump into the idol life. Now you were not too sure about that.

You´ve watched the expressions of the other members. Some of them are excited, such as Jihyo and Nayeon. They are definitely renewing the contratcs. Other members are not too sure about the decision. Yet, everybody knows the rule you all set up seven years ago.

`Ten or none.`

The sentence Jihyo whispered to you before you got your contract. Now you don´t know what to do. Do you really want to leave everything behind and just quit this big of a dream? Or do you want to pursue some other job and life in the peace and quiet that your new life would hold for you?

The pen in your hand feels so heavy. A single decision that will control your next steps. Your hand reaches for your phone, that's on the table beside you. The number of your manager is one of the first ones in your contracts.

"Hello?"

"Manager unnie? I need to make an appointment with the higher management. It´s about the renewing contract."

-

The faces of your managers are stoic. None of them give you the ressurance that you need during this moment. Your members would have comforted you by now.

"So we got this right. You want to leave this group and distance yourself from the company?"

Silence spreads through the room. Your manager watches your face with a slight frown. She knows how hard this decision is for you. You nod at what one of the higher-ups said.

"Yes. I want to leave this company as well as the group. I want my life to be noticed on something other than the idol life. Please do not inform the other members about this. I want to go this way on my own."

Some of the managers nod, while others still stay. The deal is signed quicker than you thought. The air outside the company feels different. It´s like everything around you changes drastically.

On your way home, you run into Dahyun. Her bright smile meets yours. There will never be a day where you won´t smile back at Dahyun.

"I´ll see you at practice later, right?"

You only nod and hide the fact that you won´t see Dahyun later at practice. You won`t see any of your members at practice later. You ask yourself how they will take the news.

-

The trainer enters the room and sets some of her personal belongings down onto the dancefloor. The Twice members are chatting in small groups. They exchange funny stories from the day or discuss some things that changed in the training plan.

It only takes a few more minutes until the dance trainer claps into her hands and signals for the group to come together in a circle. The members listen quickly and form a circle around their dance teacher.

"So welcome to another seven years of idol life." Her voice booms through the practice room.

Jihyos eyes fly over the members quickly. She notices the missing person almost immediately.

"Where is Y/n? Is she late to practice?"

Jihyo´s question is met with silence. Most of the members didn´t even notice Y/n missing before Jihyo mentioned it.

The dance trainer looks at Jihyo. "She didn´t tell you?"

"Tell us what?" This time it´s Jeongyeon that speaks up. She has a concerened expression on her face.

"Y/n left the group. She did not renew her contract. I got the information earlier today."

Silence spreads through the entire room. Every Twice member is at a loss for words. How could anyone who was so close to them not tell them this information? Or was it on pourpos?

Sana´s eyes tear up. She was always one of the members close to crying. Jihyo follows and lets out a few tears, too. Most of the members now let out quiet and confused sobs. They just lost a friend of over seven Years. Just like that. No goodbye, no nothing.

"She didn´t even tell us." Nayeon mutters as she reaches for Jeongyeon´s hand.

"I saw her earlier, before practice started. She was just fine, then."

The members take another big amount of time to adjust themselves to the news. None of them really got over the fact that they would continue without Y/n for the rest of their lives.

-

After practice, every member individually tries to reach Y/n. Either through the phone or by standing outside of her apartment. Yet, their attemps remain unsuccessful. Y/n is nowhere to be found.

Her traces lead to the Korean countryside, where she bought an older house, working in a bookshop for a small amount of money. For the first time, she can finally breathe free, without the pressure or the stress pushing down onto her shoulders.

Y/n doens´t know if her desicion was fitting. She won´t know if this was the right way to go, if this was the right path to follow. All she knows is that she needed the new air. The fresh way of living, and the unknowing feeling of what will happen tomorrow.

☆★