#this is how I reach back in time and hug my younger self and say 'you were right The Who do fuck severely

[svartalfhild]

I was today years old when I realized that I can buy myself a The Who t-shirt like I desperately wanted when I was a tween. No one can stop me. :o

[superluver]

Together again | Gojo Satoru

wc: 1282

warnings: MAJOR SPOILER WARNING, SPOILERS FOR SHIBUYA INCIDENT ARC AND MANGA, Chapter 236, mentions of pregnancy(literally one word), FEM!Reader, Wife reader — NOT PROOFREAD

(I didnt put an exact warning because it would literallt give away what happened)

Pairing: Husband!GojoxWife!Reader

desc: You meet with Gojo after two long months

He doesn't remember much, just a blink and he was back as his high school self. A female, hand on her hip, a curious expression written all over her face. Staring at him, she tilted her head. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

Satoru Gojo wants to laugh, like this was all some cruel joke.

Here you were, in front of him after not having seen your face(though younger) in almost 2 months since the incident in Shibuya— where you died.

He partially blamed himself. He watched you during your last moments, and selfishly, he’s grateful he didn’t actually see your death. His wife, his one and only. He smiles, and laughes as he pulls you in by your waist into a hug. “My boy did so good,” you whisper, allowing him to dig his head further into your torso as you giggle, your own fingers curling in his hair.

You smell exactly the same, like home. A home he never got to give you.

After he’s done being whiny, and well, a child, he pouts, throwing his head back.

“Aw man this is awful!” He shouts, and you laugh. The person he doesn't realize sitting beside him speaks up.

Suguru. His best friend, the one he had to kill, the one that would keep him up at night. The one that—

“Guess you were wrong.” you giggle, and Suguru stares at the two of you like you were keeping a secret joke from him.

You point at him mischievously, “He was all like, when you die you die alone, to his students, but look at the reality of it— well not really reality but still!”

He whines, “(Y/N)!!!”

Suguru breaks the ice, “How was the king of curses?”

Satoru huffs, shaking his head with a half hearted grin. He nods his head so the side, the empty seat beside him— which you take, his hand taking yours while you sit

It’s cold, just like his.

The tip of his nose hits the back of your palm, his eyes are closed before opening halflidded, staring out into the floor. His eyes peer over the overly tinted glasses, responding, “That guy was too damn strong, and he wasn’t even trying.”

It was almost mumbled, like a child complaining. Still holding your hand, he looks at Suguru, “To be completely honest, I don’t think I would even be able win.. regardless if he had Megumi’s cursed technique or not. The guy had too much up his sleeve.”

Your free hand pats his arm, laughing loudly you shake him lightly with a coo, “It’s alright, you’re my loser anyways baby,” you say with pressed eyebrows and puckered lips, almost teasingly.

He rolls his eyes, biting your hand lightly.

“I gave everything I had. Just a little sad you guys weren't there to support me, maybe you would’ve been able to give me a slap on the back to motivate me,” He jokes, shaking his head with closed eyes, imagining Suguru and yourself in the crowd of students.

“I’m glad that he was the one to kill me.” He confessed.

Somebody stronger than me. He wanted to say.

“It’s kind of gross hearing that from you, Gojo. You sound like a samurai general.”

You’re laugher bubbles up from your throat, tears forming as you turn back feom your seat.

“Kento, you’ll never change, will you?” You laugh, watching Satoru smack Nanami on the head multiple times, ruffling his hair in the process. You get up, releasing Satoru’s hand to sit in the seat besides Nanami. Smiling as the seat behind you is now empty.

Shoko.

It was for her, she was the last of the group, and you hope she wouldn't be here for a while.

“I won’t justify him, but I’ll sympathize with you.. I guess..” he mumbles, causing you to slap him on the shoulder with no ill intent, laughter from his stoicness.

“Hey!” Satoru snaps back, and you reach over and pinch his cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is, it was a fitting way to go out, Gojo.”

“You should be morw polite to your Juniors.” You chastise Satoru.

“I was already nice enough to you!” He retorts, and you tilt your head with a smile. His hand takes yours that was clipped to his cheek back in his,

“What was it like for you guys in your last moments?”

You blink, looking around the room.

“It was kind of scary,” you start, and he clenches your hand slightly. He remembers how the two of you split, you pecked him on the cheek with a determined expression, clenching your fist you told him you would be back, before warping to Harajuku. It was the last time he woult see you conscious.

You had crossed paths with Mahito, and you had it under control, until you didn't. Your weak nature, strong virtue, Satoru told you these would get in the way of you becoming a sorcerer, but you would always brush him off, telling him, I’m fine.

But you couldn’t help it, seeing a small girl in the line of Mahito’s path of destruction. Your arm was the price to pay for her life.

And, maybe you had lost too much blood, you cant remember, it’s a blur, but Satoru remembers.

Your leg contorted in a way he coulf only asume was unfoxable, your arm missing, eye streaming blood, you were dead. But his six eyes said you were alive, that you both were. And he was hopeless, tued up by the prisom realm, watching your eyes dim, he watched you die.

“To be honest, I wanted to quit with Kento, but I just couldn't bring myself to leave you alone doing all this. I don’t regret it to the end,” you smile loving at him, and he feels like vomiting.

“I would do this a thousand times over if I got to be with you every time.” You tell him sweetly, and Nanami coughs, “Enough with the sappy shit.” He grumbles.

You laugh again, and stare at Suguru. He looks back at you, and you feel your lips curling back up into a brighter smile. The man who defected, the man who left you all, he was here, and with you all.

“Once,” all attention back to Nanami. “When I was discussing with Mei-san about where I should move, she told me to move North to become someone new, and to move south to stay the person you are. Naturally, I chose South. I think it’s ironic how I died while betting on my future. But it wasn’t too bad because of Haibara.”

Haibara grins, “Aw! You’re too kind!”

“I see..” Satoru says, and you squeeze his hand back. His head snaps upward, looking right in front of him to Yaga, his voice as annoying as ever, “Yo Yaga! I thought you said no sorcerer dies without regrets!”

You laugh, and he laughs back, the room filled with laughter, Riko, Kuroi, Kento and Yu, Suguru, even Yaga.

“Now I’m hoping this isn’t a dream.” He confesses, while standing up, and you smile.

“It’s not, ya big loser!”

You shout, standing up from your chair and throwing yourself over it, crushing him. He falls back onto the ground, and Suguru jumps on top of you, Yu crushing him as Satoru wheezes, and you see him smirk.

“Welcome back!” You grin, Suguru’s face smushed next to your own. Haibara’s chin resting in between the two of yours.

He takes in the scene in front of him, everybody he’s loved all together, and finally, his arms wrap around the three of you, and he’s just so happy, that he doesn’t even Think about going back.

CLEAR MINDSET THIS IS MY REALITY NO ONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE SHUSH

[letters2won]

Hi may I ask for an idolNiki x black reader fiction Where she's one year younger than him and is really scared to admit her feelings/confess because of fans who say that he doesn't like black people /black girls soo she starts to try and give him space so she doesn't come off as clingy/pushy and he tells her that their just stupid obviously and that he loves her too but she so convinced that the fans are right

︶︶︶︶༉‧��˚. LETTER TO MY 13 YR OLD SELF

pairing: idol!niki x black!reader ⋆ genre: hurt/comfort ⋆ warnings: self doubt, harmful comments, let me know if i missed anything!

1.2k wc

⤷ i hope this was to your liking :( it’s my first time trying hurt/comfort but this was nice to write so thank you for requesting

did i get emotional writing this? yes because i related to this a lil tee much 🤏

¡ requests: open !

Everyone could see the love seeping out of you for Niki. You knew what you were getting into the moment you felt these feelings starting to rise.

They were only getting stronger and stronger day by day, it was hard trying to not spill out a monologue to him on what was stirring inside of you.

But lately, you realized how out of reach he is. Noticing all the beautiful fair skinned girlies surround him caused you to spend time staring at your own reflection. You started to softly touch your cheeks and hair, furrowing your eyebrows at the thought of him not wanting to date someone like you.

You rubbed your face tiredly as you walked out your bathroom and into your dorm room.

“Hey yn! Hope you don’t mind that I used your spare key..”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, holding your chest before going to hit him with your pillow. “Niki! You should’ve at least texted me, someone could’ve seen you, you know!” and in response he just rolled his eyes playfully.

“How was your fansign today?” you asked as you got up to grab some clothes he left over to change in knowing his current clothes were too hot. You didn’t notice him staring at your every movement before he hummed to himself.

“Tiring… but it was funny! Heeseung-” he then proceeded to go into detail about everything that went down. You gave him reassuring hums and smiles to let him know you’re still listening even with you back turned.

You eventually felt your heart drop at a mention of a fan. “And there was a pretty engene today! She was so charming and funny, definitely had a way with her words” he chuckled lightly to himself.

Biting the inside of your cheek, now you know you definitely can’t confess anything to him.

“You must be tired, yea? Are you staying the night?”

He frowned slightly, “Can’t, I have practice all day tomorrow so you probably won’t hear from me.” You sighed and gave him a reassuring smile.

“That’s fine, text me when you're free, ‘kay?” and he nodded. You walked him to the door and gave him a big hug finding comfort in the warmth radiating off of him. He softly kissed your forehead before letting go, causing you to stare in awe.

“See you later pretty!” he cheekily stated before closing the door. Oh boy, you were in trouble, the pounding of your heart being living proof of it.

That night you tossed and turned, missing having his head on your chest through the night. You gave up trying to sleep and went to twitter, the bright screen causing you to squint a bit to adjust. Scrolling mindlessly on twitter until you came across a tweet that had your eyes watering a little.

“Niki wouldn’t date a black girl in my opinion, he probably also likes experienced girls too!”

Hurriedly, you look through the comments to see people agreeing with her. Yea a few comments were disagreeing but that didn’t make you feel better. You honestly felt sick to your stomach.

You sat up quickly to read more. “He definitely doesn't like them clingy, he enjoys personal space.” That’s how you found yourself going through a loophole on twitter feeling even more shitty about yourself.

Why did it have to be like this? Was that how he really feels? You know you could ask him, I mean he’s literally your best friend! But you felt too embarrassed to even ask him how he felt dating girls like you. Did he believe the stereotypes surrounding black girls?

Your heart started to ache. You already felt self conscious about your skin, but this just made you feel 10x shittier. You got up to stare at yourself again. Eyes tearing up as you start to wish your hair weren't so kinky and how you would love to have long blonde hair or blue eyes. Wishing you weren’t so different.

That night you went to bed with a heavy heart.

The next morning you saw Niki messages but you were still hurting and decided to avoid him. You can't handle looking at him or speaking to him knowing you’ll break down in front of him.

Niki on the other hand was worried that the forehead kiss is why you’re so distant. He could barely concentrate at practice. The boys noticed it, giving him concerned glances.

“Good work today boys! Niki you’re normally on your A-game but today you were so off. Work harder okay? Get some rest everyone, see you tomorrow,” the dance coach let out.

Niki was too spaced out to even care about what he had to say. He was in a rush to see you. He needed to make sure he didn’t break any boundaries. He couldn’t lose you like this, he thought to himself as he rushed out the dance studio.

He knew it was risky to be at your dorm without any disguise but he pushed it to the back of his mind as soon as he saw your door come into view.

Knocking anxiously but you didn’t move an inch. Not wanting to get bothered right now as you cuddle up with your blanket and comfort cartoon show playing in the background.

Niki checked his pockets hoping he brought the spare key with him.

Sighing in relief, he quietly opened your door. Your dimly lit up living room welcomed him in as he closed the door softly. He could already tell something was wrong as he recognized your comfort show playing which made him even more anxious.

“Yn…can we talk?”

Your saddened eyes turned to look at him and he felt like he was shot in the heart seeing you look like this. He cautiously sat on your bed as he heard the soft sobs echo through the room.

“I just wish I could be what you wanted, Niki. You are so close but so out of reach from me. If I was pale skinned would it be different, I wonder? Would you feel less ashamed knowing I fit in with you?”

Niki pulled you closer to him, rocking back and forth. “Is that why you've been ignoring me? Because of those stupid opinionated comments?”

“Yn, I liked you for you. I love how we are different from each other. Being able to learn from you and see things from your point of view helped me grow as a person. It helped me learn to love you.”

Your head shot up, scanning his face to see if you heard wrong. “Yn you didn’t hear wrong, i meant it.”

“You’re so beautiful to me and I want you to allow me to show you that” Niki finished up.

Eyes tearing up as you sense his sincerity, you pushed your forehead against his. “Sorry for making you worry.. I was already embarrassed.”

He rubbed you back comfortingly, “Don’t be embarrassed, you’re allowed to feel like this, just communicate with me, yea?” and you nodded in agreement.

You looked up at him and saw his eyes flicker to your lips, “can i?” he asked. You smiled and leaned your forehead against his again feeling his soft lips fit with your perfectly.

Sighing in content, he leaned back and you two stayed like that for the night. Holding on so dearly as if you might vanish in thin air.

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her.  She keeps her head down.  “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath.  He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being.  You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction.  You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents.  Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now.  You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug.  When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace.  When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now.  You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution.  You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay.  One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you.  You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it.  How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her.  She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows.  “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says.  You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek.  You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours.  You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate.  You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him.  His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it.  Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl.  You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will.  He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you.  You refuse to look up at him.  “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing.  Your hands shake.  You rise and turn away.  Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers.  Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless.  “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment.  You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades.  It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union.  It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head.  “The Na-Baron had some specific requests.  He’d like you out of this,” she says.  “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you.  It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly.  “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.”  You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’.  You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.  

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare.  “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on.  “We’re almost done.”  She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you.  She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says.  “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.”  It’ll buy me some time to collect myself.  Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door.  “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside.  It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality.  A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.  

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard.  You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost.  You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean.  In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom.  He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe.  You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves.  “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.  

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back.  It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up.  “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.  

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it.  She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving.  The door clicks and you’re left in silence.  The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed.  You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it.  Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills.  He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight.  He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard.  You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed.  You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be.  And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body.  “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt.  He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word.  Your breath hitches, your heart pounding.  Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field.  It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you.  Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you.  Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.  This much you’ve done before, anyway.  You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back.  He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth.  After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.  

For the first minute it actually feels nice.  Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp.  You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down.  It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged.  The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips.  He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing.  Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit.  You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead.  Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times.  You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident.  He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp.  You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open.  He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up.  You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally.  He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his.  He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much.  You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction.  He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other.  As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another.  You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls.  They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks.  But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates.  It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels.  You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops.  It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you. 

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think.  He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage.  He’ll tear you open.  He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer.  It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob.  You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches.  You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook.  He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can’t tell already.  As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this.  Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine?  If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in.  Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes.  You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back.  “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back.  He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again.  It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain.  The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it.  He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch.  You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.  

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides.  After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet.  You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter.  You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him.  You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you.  You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness.  You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock.  The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair. 

You give another cry, which spurs him on.  Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you.  He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips.  You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it. 

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood.  He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you.  Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him.  You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.  

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue.  You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw.  His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him.  He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure.  Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face.  There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on.  Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again.  You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers.  You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction.  You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much.  It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss.  You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested.  He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?  

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you.  For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back.  Alarm sets in.  I need time.  I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open.  You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy.  He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound.  You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion.  He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word.  All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish.  Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers.  That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle. 

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.  And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front,  the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again.  You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night.  You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh.  You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct.  He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you.  You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him.  They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack.  He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation.  You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs.  You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs.  “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says.  “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him.  “You’re sending me away?” you ask.  You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice.  Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting.  You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all.  Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here?  Maybe kiss you one last time?  

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says.  “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.”  His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.”  You look over at your clothes on the dresser.  You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him.  You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize.  He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets.  They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse.  You feel tears build again, this time from anger.  You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand.  And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified.  I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers.  Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him.  He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse.  “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl.  He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you.  “You did well tonight,” he says. 

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.  

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him.  “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer.  You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight.  Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose.  Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you.  It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think.  It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod.  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside.  You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.  

She tries to spare you.  “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish.  You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets.  You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder.  “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says.  “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after.  I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth.  “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates.  “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says.  “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets.  Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her.  Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.  

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water.  “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.  

“It’s alright.  I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns.  “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.  

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her.  “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally.  “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.  

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin.  You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it.  You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs.  You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over.  After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean.  Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

[rubysarchives]

A Second Chance

Part one of ???? idk if i will write more of this. If I do, ocs will get involved :3

This is co-written with @okuyasu-nijimura3812

...........................................................

“Satoru. You look older, what happened?” There he stood, looking just the same as he had the morning before it all went wrong. “Is something wrong?”

Gojo didn’t answer, didn’t move, just stared with his mouth agape.

The boy’s regular, happy expression fell away as he opened his eyes completely. “Satoru?”

“Suguru... h-how are you here? this has to be another cursed spirit toying with me...” Gojo finally found the ability to move his mouth.

“No, I'm right here Satoru.” Geto moved closer and reached up to put a hand on Gojo’s shoulder. He was taller than he remembered, but that wasn’t important right now. “I've never seen you like this, tell me what's bothering you.”

Gojo backed away, shaking his head as his voice trembled. “N-no no no, this isn't real, t-th-this cant be real, w-where’s the curse I've got to exorcise it.”

“Satoru, sit down.” Geto raised his hands in an innocent gesture. A Gojo not in his right mind could be a very dangerous Gojo. “Take some deep breaths, I'm not a curse. What's gotten into you?”

Gojo tore the blindfold from his face, his eyes full of tears, and cried out in a desperate voice, “I KILLED YOU, THATS WHATS WRONG! YOU DIED BY MY OWN HAND SO THERES NO POSSIBLE WAY FOR YOU TO BE STANDING HERE! YET EVERYTHING IN ME IS SAYING IT'S YOU! EVEN MY SIX EYES SEES NO TRICK!”

Geto stepped back, his eyes wide. “You… What?”

“I KILLED YOU!” Tears streamed from Gojo’s bright eyes like waterfalls. “YOU GREW INTO MADNESS AND TRIED ERADICATING THE WORLD OF ALL NON SORCERERS SO I KILLED YOU BECAUSE I HAD TO! I KILLED MY OWN BROTHER SUGURU! SO TELL ME HOW YOU'RE STANDING HERE!” Disbelief, hope, fear, and grief all shifted across Gojo’s face, an expression he’d only worn once before.

“My own actions... my own actions did this to you...” Geto furrowed his brows, his eyes full of shame and his lip trembling. “I'm sorry...”

The next instant, Gojo’s arms were wrapped around the young Geto, holding him tightly as if he might fade if he let go. “Damnit all.... don’t leave... don’t leave... I don’t want to lose you a second time.”

After a moment, Geto hugged him back, burying his face into his shoulder. “I won’t.”

Gojo’s tears turned into choked sobs, barely able to speak between them. “How are you here?”

“I don’t know, but I’m alive,” Geto’s voice was muffled by Gojo’s shoulder.

“I honestly thought you hated me after everything I’d done,” said Geto. Only his mouth didn’t move, and the voice had come from a few feet in front of Gojo. Suguru Geto stood there. Older. Wearing his monk robes. Translucent.

“I thought you were an idiot, but I never hated you... I could never hate you,” Gojo replied.

“I'm relieved to hear that.” The phantom switched to a softer voice. “We were children, Satoru. Children charged with the task of slaying demons. It broke me.”

“The countless times I wanted us to just run away,” Gojo inhaled sharply to catch a sob, “we could have... why didn’t we…”

“Because we were the strongest. The best hope humanity had. But that doesn't make it fair. We were children.”

“I would have let the world burn for you Suguru... I just wanted us to be happy.” He held Geto a little tighter. “So I kept being this comedic super idiot in hopes things would just get better.”

“The story has already ran its course, there's no changing that now. But... It looks as if someone has decided to give me a second chance.” Geto stepped closer and placed a hand on his younger self’s shoulder. It felt like cold air.

“I won’t lose you again,” Gojo said.

“Please take care of him for me, Satoru... Don't let me break again.” As he spoke, Geto faded away, leaving only the living one crying into Gojo's shoulder.

“I wont let anything happen to you again,” Gojo promised.

“Why am I here, Satoru?” Geto’s voice shook.

“I don’t know… but I’m not going to let you snap again… I promise. You’re here for a reason, so I’m going to keep you here.”

“Ok.” He hugged Gojo tighter.

[blushingwife]

I've Got You - a soft!Ghost x OC short story

When I say I'm very anxious about posting this, I mean I'm *deathly* anxious. HOWEVER. I'm so very proud of myself for completing this. You did it, hun :) This is what I've chosen to kickstart my "writing career". I decided to indulge in my deepest guilty pleasure: soft!Ghost. My teenage self would gag at how cheesy this is but you know what? She was lying to herself because she loved the cheesy stuff. There's something in me that wants to keep writing for her. So I think I will. I hope someone enjoys this as much as I loved writing it. More to come. CW: some self-deprecating thoughts. Otherwise, just pure unadulterated fluff.

Failing at his attempt to not panic was causing Simon to panic even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt scared in this relationship with Liz. The initial few weeks had been a constant battle with himself to stop believing she would leave once she realized his facade was a scam. A feeling had nagged at the back of his mind telling him he was a fool to trust her. That he was setting himself a trap. Then, the first time they’d argued with intensity, he’d been ready to end it and spare her from the effort and pain. But, truthfully, the thought of leaving was more painful than feeling unworthy of her. They both wished to do better. He’d apologized. She’d apologized. They’d basked in each other’s company after that and realized the experience had brought them closer to understanding how to make it work.

In time, his instincts calmed down. He learned to lean on her when he needed support and also to be her support as needed. So the current rising panic in his gut brought him to those first months and he did not like it one bit.

He kept playing with the loop of his black tie, never quite satisfied with its position. Liz’s younger brother was getting married, the first in the family. Everyone was coming, no matter how remotely they knew the bride and groom. Simon had never been anyone’s plus one before. Was convinced he’d never be. But as he raised his eyes from his neck to the deep brown irises of his reflection in the mirror in front of him, he remembered all of this was as real as it was gonna get. And after today, it would be official. All her family would know they were together.

“You’re fidgeting,” Liz’s voice said behind him. He forced the tension in his neck away with a quick roll of his shoulders.

“’M not” He dropped his arms as a pair of hands rounded his waist and then her weight settled on his back.

“Right.” He could almost feel her amused smirk. “You’re not.”

He raised his arm and reached back, inviting her forward. Liz slid underneath it to his side, never leaving the embrace. She raised her hand to his tie, arranging it exactly to where he wanted it to be, then glanced at him.

“You look handsome.” She kissed his cheek. Simon leaned his head toward her but kept staring into the mirror, into that maskless face that was supposed to be him but felt like someone else.

She ducked her head into his neck as she studied him through the mirror, trying to guess what it was that kept Simon’s attention.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. That made Simon divert her eyes to her reflection. “Whatever you’re worried about. It’ll be okay.”

He turned his head to her real self, getting trapped in the depths of her eyes. He swallowed the urge to deny her statement, out of habit. It was still not easy to believe that she actually meant her words. “Yeah,” he agreed, then pressed a light kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be with you,” she said, pressing her palm to his chest. “You know that, right?”

He nods, shifting his stance toward her to pull her into a hug that he felt deep into his soul. The knot in his stomach relaxed when she didn’t press for further explanations. He should tell her what was going through his head. He’d always felt better when she knew. This wouldn’t be any different. Would it?

“Come on,” she pushed him back gently. “We need to get going.”

As they separated, Simon kept his grip on her hand and followed her out of their apartment into the elevator to the garage. They were silent the whole time but she drew small circles in his hand with her thumb. It grounded him. Left room in his mind meanwhile to gather the courage to tell her why he was anxious.

She offered him the car keys as they approached her vehicle. He tilted slightly his head at her as a silent question and she shrugged.

“Not really in the mood to drive,” she explained scrunching her nose. Simon took the keys as Liz dropped them in his hand, then entered the driver’s seat, started the engine and began the ride.

Liz spent most of the silent trip sparing brief glances at him, hoping she wasn’t making him too uncomfortable with her observation. He was gripping the steering wheel too hard almost since they had left. For a whole minute she thought she might have been paranoid, seeing things that weren’t there out of a desire to understand, but she’d watched him enough to know the difference between him being alert and being nervous. Something was bothering him. None of her theories were enough to bring proper conclusions.

“Simon?”

His hands relaxed in an unconscious reflex. His eyes moved for a second toward her before turning to the road ahead.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He rolled his shoulders again, giving her a nonchalant look.

“Sure” She glanced down. Wrong question to ask.

She looked at him for a long time, unable to figure out her next words. How to help him. None of the sentences she thought about seemed decent enough. He would shut down or lie. She swallowed a sigh. It was beyond frustrating. Feeling like being there for him wasn’t enough.

“What?” he asked and arched an eyebrow at her once he noticed she’d been staring. She pursed her lips into a slight smile.

“I love you.”

She had said it so easily he was unable to hide his own grin. His scalp and cheeks warmed. He switched his own palm from the wheel to underneath hers as it rested on her leg and clenched it firmly. Something inside his body stirred uncontrollably every time he heard those words. He wanted to think his actions talked louder. That he always demonstrated his love for her through small daily acts. Trying to say it out loud still felt scathing. Like it would become a duty he needed to step up for while in reality he had nothing to offer. And yet, when he dared ask her why she had not given up on him, her answer was always the same: she didn’t want anything else.

He straightened in his seat as he realized. Yes, he was still scared. Of not being worthy of it. Of fucking it all up. If he said it… there was no going back. But wasn’t he already too far down at this point?

The sound of the GPS reminded him they were arriving at the venue.

The crowd started from the parking lot. Not even minding the unrelenting heat of the sun above their heads, little groups of people talked and laughed while others headed toward the yard or restaurant beside it. Simon chose to park further down, a bit more isolated from where most cars were. He switched off the engine, glancing to his left at the building as Liz stepped outside. Too many people to meet. Would they consider him enough for her, like Liz did? He didn’t want to know.

Liz had walked out and to his side of the car. Her eyes were on him, expectant. He stood, closed the car behind him, then took Liz’s hand in his. As he started walking, Liz pulled him back.

Simon swung to her as she dug inside her tiny party purse and brought out a carefully folded piece of black cloth with white paint.

“I brought it for you,” she said, as she offered his old ghost mask. Simon blinked, tempted by the offer to hide behind his usual facade. He shook his head and she tilted hers to the side, inquisitive. He was not about to turn back on his decision.

“I want to make a good impression on your family.”

She frowned.

“They already know you.”

For the last couple of years, her family had already hosted several Christmas parties and other gatherings to which the 141 was invited. Yes, they’d met Ghost. But they hadn’t met Simon.

“It’s not the same.”

She watched him, as she usually did and only put aside the mask in her purse when Simon pushed her hand down in confirmation. Then, she closed the distance between them as he glanced to the ground. She lifted her hands to his cheeks and forced him to look at her.

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t”

She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Okay. Well… You know you’ve already made a good impression, right?”

He slid his arms around her in silence, holding on to the comfort of her presence.

“They have loved having you around. A mask didn’t make a difference.” She leaned forward, bringing his forehead to hers. His frown deepened Liz’s own. Her heart accelerated in silent outrage.

“Do you know why I know?” she asked. He waited.

“Because wearing it or not, I still see the same man I fell in love with.”

He swallowed thickly. Closing the distance to her lips with his own, he savored her sweet taste like a man drinking in a desert oasis. When they parted for air, Simon leaned into her neck and closed his eyes, trying to print the memory of her scent into his brain as she slid her arms above his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, okay?”

He nods as she strokes his scalp soothingly. She was in no hurry.

“I love you too,” he said, after a while, before the impulse grew weaker.

Her grin lit up her whole face.

“I know.”

When they separated, she was the one to kiss him one last time before walking toward the venue hand in hand, his step lighter than what she had seen for the entire day.

As they made their way toward the entrance, Simon instantly recognized Liz’s mother, Mrs. Hale, a woman in a pale green floral dress with a slight hunch, gray hair in a high bun and still commanding her surroundings with a kind smile. Judging by her welcoming stance and eagerness to spare a greeting to everyone passing, she had taken the role of greeter and guide, pointing out areas of the venue. When Liz and Simon came in, almost the last ones in the queue, the woman immediately lit up at his sight.

“My! Dear, how wonderful to see you again,” she said, going straight for a hug towards a stunned Simon. As far as he remembered, the woman had never seen him before without his mask.

“Good to know you missed me, Mum” Liz retorted with a chuckle “You know I always do but him, I don’t see him that often.” They parted and it was Liz’s turn for a motherly hug.

“How’d you know who I was?”

The woman turned to Simon again with a wide grin, the skin around her eyes wrinkling deeper but in the same way that Liz did when she smiled.

“How could I not?” she waves away his puzzled expression as if it were obvious what she meant. “Dear, let me introduce you to the other side of the family, come, you two,” she urged, then walked further inside without concern about the last of the guests she hadn’t greeted.

Liz felt Simon’s hesitation but she squeezed his hand and when he looked at her, she nodded again to let him know she would be right beside him. Always.

[modern-inheritance]

This is a WIP! It has Arya and Islanzadí finding out how to be normal! I think? I don't fucking know. Taking down tomorrow.

I don't like to post full WIPs but I am zoomies rn.

~~~

Arya’s eyes held nothing but a subdued fire, face blank. Her voice was equally neutral, no curiosity or anger, no accusation or trepidation. “Are you sure?”

Islanzadí suppressed the urge to take a steadying breath and nodded. “Yes. You showed the court. And I…” Unable to hold it back, she sucked in a deep breath and released it, trying to let the tremor in her throat out before she spoke again. “I couldn’t look. I didn’t. And that…was not right.” She leveled her gaze with her daughter’s, resolute. “You say you refuse to hide your scars. It’s time I stop hiding from what my inaction allowed you to endure without my support.”

The queen held her breath as Arya looked down. If she refused–

But it was only a moment. Barely even a second. Arya looked back up and shrugged, a wry grin touching her lips. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Despite herself Islanzadí’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline when her daughter reached a hand behind her back and, with practiced ease, unzipped and, somehow, managed to slip the sports bra she was wearing off her arms and tossed it into the laundry hamper beside the bed. “Oh, what? You just learned I was sleeping with Fäolin, you can’t think he didn’t teach me at least something useful in the bedroom.” 

Islanzadí opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find a response as the younger elf cackled at her expression. “I…will process that after…this.”

Still giggling to herself in short bursts, Arya turned to face away and grabbed the loose tanktop at the nape of her neck and pulled it over her head. 

The laughter died as the temperature of the room dropped, ghosts of air feeling both burning and electric in some places, muted and numb in others. As it always did now. 

Arya disguised the steadying inhale and huffed exhale with a shake of her head. She trapped the tanktop around her upper arms and hugged it to her chest to preserve some modesty, finishing the movement by tugging her wayward braid over her shoulder. 

“Ta-da.” 

The silence was heavy. 

Arya absolutely hated it.

Without turning, Arya jerked her head in the direction of her desk. “Wastebasket’s over there if you’re gonna puke.”

“I’m not going to puke.” Islanzadí’s voice was quiet, hollow even. It took more than a little self control for her daughter to not cast a glance over her shoulder. 

The silence was not the reaction she had wanted. Hell, she didn’t know what kind of reaction would have been most favorable, really, just didn’t want silence. 

She opened her mouth again to speak but stopped, unable to find words. Maybe silence was the only answer for it.

Arya felt rather than heard her mother take a half step forward before pulling back, a soft gasp at her own movement as if it had startled her. The trepidation was…oddly comforting. Like Islanzadí was realizing in the moment just what could set her daughter off, was respecting the invisible boundaries she had set. 

For some reason…it made her smile. With the slightest turn of her head, eye catching on the queen standing behind her in the periphery of her vision, Arya found herself speaking words she could have never imagined saying before now. 

“You can come closer if you want. I only bite Shades.” 

A quiet, broken sound fell from Islanzadí’s lips. She closed the distance in an instant before raising a hand, warmth hovering just over her daughter’s ruined skin. 

“Arya…” Islanzadí choked on the name. This…this was…. 

This was her daughter. Her Little Star. Her child, her baby, the little bundle she had held close one night after months of waiting, Evandar over her shoulder, exhausted by never happier than she was in that moment. Swearing to protect her, to do everything she could to make her life bright and filled with joy and–

Arya dropped her gaze. “Not as bad as it looks.” Her words were a mumble, not nearly as convincing as she had hoped. “Could have been worse, really. If Eragon and Saphira hadn’t healed what they did, when they did it, uh…” She trailed off, remembering the fuzzy image of her unhealed injuries Brom had purposefully blurred and Eragon and Saphira had refused to show her unadulterated. “I’m…probably not helping, am I?”

Shaking fingertips touched the giant missing swath that dropped down from Arya’s right shoulder for barely an instant before yanking back as if burned. The brevity of the contact, rather than the contact itself, made the woman flinch, followed by fumbled assurances. “It’s fine! Just…. It’s fine. I don’t care if you touch them. Glen’s been all over the damn things trying to figure them out.”

Unable to stop herself, Islanzadí stepped forward again. Slowly, trembling, the queen gently rested first her fingertips, then her palm on her daughter’s back. 

Arya squeezed her eyes shut at the broken gasp that followed, the heartbreaking sound she had heard dozens upon dozens, hundreds upon hundreds of times over from mothers and fathers finding their slain children on the battlefield. Nearly the same sound sons and daughters with missing limbs and pieces let out, crushed and smothered wails into the shoulders of their parents and loved ones as they were met with the undeniable truth of their new reality. 

She hadn’t made that sound when she first saw the scars in their totality. Her first instinct had been to claw her shirt the rest of the way off, mute, staring, trying to burn them into her mind before she tried to heal them. It hadn’t worked, of course. But for some reason her acceptance of them had come so immediately after the first attempt it never…never quite hit as hard as she had expected it to. 

“What did he do to you?” Tears were evident in Islanzadí’s voice, palm sliding across the hills and valleys left by instruments best left unspoken, fire and metal and hide and claw. “Little Star, what…what did he do to you?”

Despite it all, Arya couldn’t help the dry grin twisting her lips. “That’s my little secret to know, mum. No one else needs to hear it. It’s mine.” The grin widened. “Durza’s dead. Can’t keep a secret with two people.”

“I’ll kill him.” The change to the Ancient Language instinctively snapped Arya’s head around, wide eyed at her mother’s oath. Islanzadí, Queen of the Elves, stood with one hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her face, words muffled but achingly clear in their intent and promise. “I will kill Galbatorix for what he’s done to you.” 

It really, really shouldn’t have. But the oath made Arya chuckle. “Hey. Get in line.” She turned back to staring at the wall. “I’m not letting you skip like Eragon did.” 

Whether she heard her daughter’s quip or not, Islanzadí had no response. Instead she slid her fingers up the younger elf’s spine, another gasp pulled from her throat. “You…when you’re rubbing your neck, you–” 

“Can’t feel it half the time? It’s not too bad. The nerve responses come and go.” 

Islanzadí’s fingertips trailed down the rift again. Stars above, she could feel the muscles moving as her daughter breathed. Not only that but she could see them, rippling with every movement and shift. 

No, no, her Little Star should not, could not live with this. Badge of pride be damned, her child would not live with such scars to remind her of that monster’s touch. 

Warmth was the first warning. Sparking at her mother’s fingers. The first breath of sound from her lips–

Arya was moving, shirt yanked back over her head, teeth clenched, whirling around in a burst of speed that even the queen couldn’t track. Islanzadí felt her shoulders and the back of her head hit the wall by the door first, the hand that had been tracing the scarring slamming it soon after as her daughter pinned it in an iron grip. Arya’s other hand was over her mouth before the second syllable had even reached her throat, clamping her teeth shut tight with an audible click in the whirlwind.

To Islanzadí’s utter shock, Arya did not recoil as she had before when her instincts reared their heads. Dark emerald eyes bored into lightning gold, firm, completely unyielding. 

“That…” Arya cautioned, voice low. “Is a very…very bad idea. Do you understand?” Her gaze softened slightly, even if her grip did not. “I can’t let you go until you do. This is important.”

Eyes wide, completely and utterly bewildered, Islanzadí managed to nod twice. 

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, and I need you to swear to me in the Ancient Language that you will not attempt to heal any of my scars from Durza or Gil’ead again. Alright?” 

Again, Islanzadí nodded. In this she would not argue. Arya was coming through with another boundary and making herself quite clear. 

The moment the oath was struck Arya released her hold and stumbled back, dropping onto the bed when the back of her knees found it. Her shoulders slumped in obvious relief, and, with a wheezed laugh, the young elf shook her head and braced her hands on her knees. “Fuck, that was close.” A broken chuckle slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that was…that was completely necessary, I should have told you when you asked to see them. Fuck! I’m so sorry.” 

Shaking, Islanzadí peeled herself from the wall and in three strides was kneeling on the floor before her daughter, grasping her face in slim hands and brushing away the start of tears with her thumb. “It’s alright, Little Star. I should not have tried to cast on you without any warning. I was foolish.”

Arya choked out a laugh again. Whatever had prompted the outburst, necessitated the oaths, it had clearly rattled her. “You were doing what mums do.”

“We’re a bit different from most mums and daughters, though. Shh, Little Star. It is alright, it is over now.” Arya just shook her head. “No harm done to me, no harm done to you.” 

It took a few deep breaths for the younger elf to steady herself. “I should have told you before this.” A bright, apologetic smile, showing those sharp canines and premolars, face wild and still somehow cracked at the edges of the grin. “We…we can’t heal them.”

Islanzadí frowned and, out of pure, old habit, tucked a wild shock of her daughter’s hair behind her ear before releasing her hold on her face. “Anything can be healed, Little Star. I know how you see them as proof of your resolve, but–”

“Mum, look at me.” The feral smile never fell. Grew just a bit more pained. A bit more…accepting? Arya touched two fingers to the center of her forehead. “Look at me through magic.”

The queen blinked. She had refrained from doing so earlier to respect her daughter’s privacy. But now she could feel Arya lowering the wards that prevented such a gaze catching, exposing all but her vital organs to damage, sight…stripping away all her wards but the ones that would save her from a mortal blow. 

So Islanzadí just nodded and closed her eyes. Breathed in, breathed out…and opened her consciousness to the world.

Life and light flared up around her. She could feel and see it all, from the little beetles marching along the windowsill to the muted, half warded pulse of Glenwing in the kitchen down the hallway. And Islanzadí could feel and see the emerald and neon green flare of her daughter shifting on the bed, turning around and crossing her legs so that her mother could see her back through the lens of how magic and life interwove together and–

‘Sweet stars above.’ 

Islanzadí’s hands flew to her mouth to silence the cry wrenched from her throat. 

Black threads cut across her daughter’s light. Over every scar he had left, every wound he had inflicted that still lingered on her skin, the Shade, Durza, his magic, parts of him, were sewn onto and into the scars. Stars above, she could see where they plunged into Arya’s flesh, the nerves all delicately sewn across and around with sharp thread tensioned just so. So tight and cutting into her, no start or end in sight.

They hummed with malice when Islanzadí reached out and hovered her hand above them. The words were too complex, the actual spells that had anchored them and held them fast were indecipherable even with her years of experience, dark magic fueling their directives. And yet she knew, she could feel what it wanted, and oh no, not to her, please–

Islanzadí ripped away and toppled back. She caught herself on her hands before she fell completely backward. Spots swam in front of her eyes and she shook her head to clear them, only to find her daughter staring at her. Upside down, laying on the bed with her head hanging off the edge and braid swaying to touch the floor.

That damn wry, pained grin playing at her lips. “See why I freaked out?” When her mother simply gaped at her, unable to put her horror into words, Arya shrugged and sat up, spinning around to again put her feet flat on the floor. “To be fair, when Glen and I tried to heal it together for the first time it almost killed me. So…a bit cautious on that front lately.” 

And suddenly Islanzadí had her arms around her and was hugging her daughter to her chest, muffling the startled, “Oh, okay,” as tears fell to the top of her head.

[hwashotcheeto]

Announcement!

Today I want to introduce you all to my male ninth member of ATEEZ character!

His name is...

Moon Kija!

Honestly, I'm so attached to him, he's like my baby. 😭 He started off as a self insert (and still kind of is) and then grew into more of his own character. I hope you all love him as much as I do. 💜

My lovely angel @malldreamprincess helped me massively with his creation and with the making of this post, so thank you, my love. 💜

So lemme tell you about him. I'll start with a list of some basic stuff (like how K-Profiles has theirs set up):

Stage Name: Kija

Birth Name: Moon Kija

Position: Visual, vocalist

Birthday: December 3rd, 2000

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 5'5 (165 cm)

Weight: N/A

Blood Type: N/A

MBTI: ISFJ-T

Kija was born in the US, but moved to Korea when he was little. His mom is Korean and his dad is Chinese. He was raised learning both Korean and English, but since he moved back to Korea, his English deteriorated a little.

He went to school with Jongho, and they auditioned at KQ together (Kija didn't really want to go at first, but he wanted to go with Jongho). Kija auditioned as a vocalist and was signed on as a vocalist.

Kija is shy and reserved, but very emotional and impulsive. He thinks with his emotions before he thinks with his brain, which he admits has gotten him into trouble before. But he also thinks the availability of his emotions helps him comfort his members better.

He has a couple different hobbies, like playing video games and calligraphy.

When he's shown his room in lives, he's displayed his bed that's stacked up with many different plushies. Kija says he sleeps with all of them every night.

Kija has also said that one of his favorite things to do is go live to spend time with ATINY. Furthermore, he loves participating in fan meets and performing on stage.

Now his relationships with the other members:

Kija is babied as much as Jongho, as all the members love them both. He's the closest with Jongho and treats him like a brother, since they went to school for so many years and auditioned together.

Seonghwa babied Kija the most, keeping him close in most situations. ATINYs teased Kija a lot for how much Seonghwa loves him and how flustered Kija gets over the attention. Kija calls him "Eomma" in retaliation, and Hongjoong "Appa" by extention.

Kija and Hongjoong have a slight parental bond, where both he and Wooyoung will cling onto Hongjoong and either love him or annoy him. Hongjoong has said its both a blessing and a curse.

Speaking of Wooyoung, Kija is also close with him, who will often fight Seonghwa for. The other members have admitted multiple times that Seonghwa and Wooyoung often playfully argue over who gets to spend time with Kija. When Wooyoung wins, the two of them wreck havoc on the other members.

He sees Mingi as an older brother figure, since Mingi took care of Jongho and Kija a lot when they were younger. ATINYs have noticed that in stressful or scary situations, Kija will always reach out for Mingi first (even if Mingi is screaming like a banshee).

When he's with Yunho, he's not as shy and reserved as he usually is. Yunho helps him get out of his comfort zone in a safe way. Kija has mentioned before how Yunho helped him explore some new things and make him more comfortable overall.

The members have said that Kija and Yeosang hanging out is one of the quietest times from the two of them. They're comfortable with each other, just talking or cuddling, being quiet and soft.

Kija has said that he goes to find San if he needs physical comfort. He says that San gives the best hugs and cuddles out of all the members, and how he treats him like he's a big teddy bear plushie.

For Kija's appearance, I feel kinda icky posting pictures of a real person and using them as the face of a character, so I won't be doing that.

But I imagined Kija with a small frame, but he's got enough muscle to protect himself and match up to his members.

He usually has short hair that's just long enough to go past his eyes. He has big shiny eyes (like Seonghwa heh) and small lips.

(I feel like I'm describing Hiro from Big Hero 6 but more introverted and shy)

I hope you all love Kija as much as I do. 💜 For the future, I'm still thinking of what I'll do with him in terms of fics. Right now, I don't have a series planned, nor do I have any fics, but I'm waiting to see if any ideas pop up.

And if there's any questions, don't be afraid to ask! 💜

So there's Kija! 💜

[angriel]

Disillusionment [IV]

Part 1 »» Part 2 »» Part 3 »» Part 4 »» Coming soon

Warning!: Aged up! Neteyam x Reader, Mentions of cheating!, Toxic Relationship, Some super duper Angst everywhere, Absolutely Ass writing, Mentions of Ab^se, Mentions of Blood, Curse Words, Mentions of 💀 thyselves

"Is it (Y/n)?" Neytiri Asked her son.

Neteyam sighed and nodded, he looked down not wanting to see the disappointment in her eyes. There was a painful silence between the two as the his mother scanned his figure.

Neytiri raised her hand to touch Neteyam's shoulder, but he thought that she was going to hit him. He flinched when her Hand came in contact with his shoulders.

"Neteyam" His mother spoke.

"It hurts me when you think that I was going to hit you" She said in a sad voice, as she continues to rub his shoulders. Neteyam processed what she said in his head.

"Neteyam I would never hurt you" Neytiri reassures him, She saw her son's shocked face and that caused her to chuckle.

"My son, Follow what your heart says now go and get her" She encouraged her son, Neteyam thanked her and then ran out of their hut.

"Thanks For giving him the talk Neytiri" Jake said as he emerged from the dark, Neytiri chuckled and gave him a peck on his lips before engulfing him to a hug.

"I couldn't help but see your younger self in him Ma Jake." They both laughed as they went back inside their hut to continue their duties.

Neteyam ran at his full speed towards your hut where he sees you packing your stuff up, he blocked your way panting as he catched his breath.

"Where *gasp* do you think *gasp* you're going?" He said out of breath, Neteyam's sudden appearance shocked you as you motioned for him to come inside your hut.

"I'm leaving Nete, I'll be looking for a new home" you said not daring to look at his eyes, you knew that when you looked at him you'll not be able to leave.

But he holds your hand and that made you look at him, you instantly regretted it as your will of leaving vanished in an instant when you saw how desperate and broken Neteyam looked.

"Please don't (Y/n) don't leave me please, I love you my Syulang I can't imagine you without here by my side! Why Can't you see that I loved you for a long time (Y/n)?!. Oel Ngati Kameie"

His declaration of love for you has put you in a state of utter disbelief, you didn't notice the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. It made your heart melt when Neteyam said the words you have longed to hear many years ago.

"I see you too Nete, But what will your mother think of our relationship? She will greatly disagree with us along with the Olo'eyktan himself"

You expressed your concern to him but he only looked down smiling while shooking his head, he chuckled and reached for your face to gently touch it and rub it.

"My Little Syulang you have nothing to fear my mother greatly favors you as well as my father, They knew that we were always meant to be together by Eywa"

You can't help but smile at him and he did too, you engulfed him in a hug in which he hugged you back tightly. You two stayed like that for hours and hours, frequently changing the positions but still cuddling each other.

No one speaks or sang and the both of you can only hear the soft whistles of the wind and the chirping of the birds, you both let your mind loose and let yourselves get comfortable in each others warmth. The both of you gradually fell asleep until the next morning.

»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●»●«●

The both of you stood at the home of Neteyam hand in hand contemplating on who will be the first to open the door, Neteyam took a deep breath and sighed before entering only to be met by Kiri.

"Hi Neteyam! Jake has been looking for you, seems like someone's in trouble~" She teased Neteyam, she looked at your joint hands and she gasped. And she met your eyes for confirmation.

You nod your head but before she could scream you stopped her by telling her that you have not yet mated before Eywa and she was disappointed.

Neytiri Came out to see who screamed only to see you and Neteyam, she looked at you scanning your figure from head to toe causing you to be anxious but Neteyam tightened his hold on your hand assuring yiu that it was okay.

"Come, Jake has been expecting you too" She said seriously before she went inside again, the both of you quickly followed her and as soon as the both of you got inside you saw Jake the Olo'eyktan himself sitting a few inches from where the both of you stood.

Neytiri joined Jake by his side sitting beside him as she motions for the both of you to sit across from them. Jake cleared his voice causing the both of you to flinch because of the nerve-wracking atmosphere.

Jake laughed at the both of you and that caused for you to loosen up and deeply sighed, he patted Neteyam's shoulder and looked at him in the eye.

"Answer me truthfully boy, do you accept her for who she is? Do you really love her? And are you willing to do ANYTHING for her and to be with her?" The Olo'eyktan asked his young son.

"Yes Sir! I love her with all of my heart and I will love her eternally until my last breath, I would do anything for her whatever it takes to make her mine and to be with me forever." Neteyam firmly said in confidence and that made you smile a little.

Neytiri smirked and looked at you causing you to get a little shy, Jake smiled at Neteyam as he let's go of his shoulder.

"Good! I'm proud of you son!" he firmly said.

"But do not celebrate yet as another challenge has made it's way to your own fates." Jake said in a serious manner causing the atmosphere to be heavy again.

"May I respectfully ask what do the Olo'eyktan mean by that?" You asked Jake and he looked at you, he motions for Neytiri to speak and she does.

"Your father was not happy on what happened to you ma (Y/n), he was enraged learning about the incident he spoke badly of you saying how you were a bad luck and a disgrace of your family."

She reached for your hand and squeezed it as a way of comfort and encouraging you to be strong, but before you say something Neytiri continued with her explanation.

"Therefore your father request has proposed for a fight with Neteyam if Teyam loses your consequences will be your banishment from the tribe and if your father loses it's their banishment."

"But isn't her dad have no longer have the right to do this as she is a bonded Na'vi?" Neteyam retorts but Neytiri shook her head.

"No Teyam, Their bond has been broken therefore the proposal of her father was made possible" She said whil looking Neteyam at his eyes.

"So what type of fight was my father's proposal?" you asked the Tsahik and her eyebrow contorted into a frown.

"A duel" She said grimacedly.

You gasped and looked at Neteyam, he looked back and he knew what you were thinking you shook your head for him to say no but he disagrees with your decision.

"Fine Where and When?" Neteyam asked, Jake smirked feeling proud of his son.

"At the training ground at the morning of (Y/n)'s Birthday"

"My birthday? that's in 2 days!" You exclaimed causing tension at the room.

"It's okay I'll be training him extra hard and give him a few tips to counter his techniques" Jake said while his arms crossed.

The 3 of us looked at him in shock as we were dumbfounded by his statement, the Olo'eyktan was expected of fairness of judgement and Jake was willing to help his son defeat your father.

"What? Even if I'm the Olo'eyktan doesn't mean I'll let my son get kick in the ass by your pops" He said.

The Father-Son duo decided to start their training now as they left you with Neytiri, you are a shy Na'vi but Neytiri Decided to train you as a Tsahik.

All of the Task of a Tsahik are already familiar with you as many of them are already a part of your daily life, Neytiri decided to train your shooting skills as well as teaching you her fighting style.

The day went on from that as all of you were busy doing your things, the day if the duel eventually comes as you put war paint all over Neteyam's body all of the tribe has came to witness a legendary moment of duel between 2 of the greatest warriors of the tribe.

You constantly asked him if he was okay and all but he replies with a consistent positive replies, as you finishes painting the last pattern you gave a deep kiss to Neteyam as a goodluck and it drove his fighting spirits up and got him all fired up.

They walked out of their respective tents as they faced at the middle of the training grounds, you saw your father there and he gave you a smirk that make you cower in fear and he laughed out loud.

"Prepare to die my useless daughter!" your father exclaimed in public causing for the tribe to give you a sympathetic look.

Jake and Neytiri announced the duel to start when he blows in a trumpet, causing the both of the duelist to start taunting each other to boost their own morale.

"Ready to lose young boy?" Your dad taunts him.

"Is your face ready to get pounded by my fists?" He taunted back causing your dad to growl and Jake to chuckle quietly, Jake drew a deep breath before sounding the trumpet.

Both of them charged at each other at full speed signalling that their duel has officially Started.

TAGS:

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @thatsenoughformelol @immortalbloodhuntress @erenjaegerwifee @soxfix @dorck26 @vampsclassiffied @1950schick @lovekeeho @fanboyluvr @buttercake2234 @slutforsmut4ever @witchywannabe3263 @sharni07 @avatarfreaky @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @adaiasafira @fluloa

[twosides--samecoin]

Hi!! Happy weekend! I’d love to hear about some of your ocs headcanons 🍬🌻💩 :]

Here's Jack and Olivia, 2/3 of Long Time Running's main cast - with a bonus heacanon unique to my Dogmeat! You can read the fic -> here <-

Jack Ward is my canon M!SoSu. He was a professional boxer and retired when he was conscripted for the Anchorage campaign and sent to FoB Juneau.

When Med-Tek failed, Jack pushed RJ on a vertibird destined for Vault 150 - a remote Canadian Vault that tested Duncan's illness on its residents. Two weeks later, Olivia Dallaire, my OC F!SoSu, stepped out of a vertibird and onto the hill overlooking Sanctuary and Boston. She'd be an Olympic judoka if there was still Olympics.

🍬On the topic of family: One of the themes in my fic is about the intersection and contrast between found family and adoption as well as miscommunication. Jack sees a younger version of himself in Olivia, but in a subversion of the failed-coach-training-his-actually-promising-protege trope, Jack had the title fight successes and Olivia really never will. All the same, he takes a shine to her. After meeting Father at the Institute, Jack let go of the idea of recovering his family. When he met Olivia, he felt like, "My god, this is the child Nora and I were supposed to have". Problem is, she's uh, a grown-ass 23 year-old woman. Who just immigrated to a different country and has her own trauma to unpack. And the sudden reemergence of his want to be a dad is moving faster than his ability to discuss being family with her. He faces serious role strain between his best friendship with RJ and the fatherhood he feels toward Olivia when he sees RJ differently as he begins to feel protective over her.

💩 Something ridiculous: My Dogmeat can break the fourth wall. The characters cannot hear him in the fic, but the reader can read his thoughts. One of my childhood fave movies is All Dogs Go To Heaven. The main dog is a German Shepherd, voiced by Burt Reynolds. This is how I hear him.

I was born in '94, so those 80's-90's "talking animal" genre movies were really formative for me. Anastasia, An American Tail - themes of lost family, adventure, immigration. Even RJ's story has strong Secrets of NIMH parallels. I'd reached a point where my fic felt self-serious, like it was so grounded in harsh reality and dumpster fire mental health that I forgot to have fun. Saluting Don Bluth by imagining Charlie B. Barkin and Anne-Marie the Orphan as Dogmeat and Olivia was me throwing my hands up and saying, "Fine! Fuck it! We can have fun!"

🌼 Happiness, how'd you get to be happiness: Lately, getting to know each other has been a source of happiness for both Jack and Olivia. Jack as the canon SoSu has all the problems we do when we play the game - wrangling several warring factions that all expect his presence; ignoring Father/the Institute; managing a small empire of settlements. Olivia as the SoSu of her own Vault is navigating immigration and being around people again. The heart-meltingest fluff I have published so far is father-daughter moments. Excerpt below the cut!

Long Time Running Chapter 13: Sabré Olvidar:

Jack glanced at Olivia’s marigold cable-knit sweater and jeans, rolled up at the cuffs. He realized most of her clothing from home that wasn’t her Vault suit was oversized and patched several times over. 

A deep flush of sadness erupted within. He coughed and returned to the topic of conversation. “Well, um.. What.. What do you think of the animals you let go?” 

“I just thank them for giving me a pretty view. I mean, just look at them.” She let go of their hug and stepped back. “If you look at it like this, the window makes them look like a painting.” 

She beamed at the radstag pair - four heads and too many legs. 

Jack obliged the request and stepped back. The window framed the radstags, trees and tall grasses well, like a living photograph. He appreciated the scene with the same intensity as a painting in a museum.  

He broke his gaze away and looked around at the cabin. “Well.. What brings us down here today, anyway?” he asked.

“I was thinking,” she turned away from the radstags. “Um, there wasn’t anyone here last time I visited, and there’s no one here now, and.. Y’know, it’s pretty close to town.. Does anyone own this place?” 

“Truth be told, Miss Olivia,” he replied. “I don’t think anyone’s taken interest in this cabin since the bombs fell. Doesn’t seem to me like anyone owns it.” 

She wrung her hands and shifted her weight as she looked around. “Um.. can I..” 

Jack awaited the question with patience and a smile. “Yes?”

“Can I have it? Please?” she pleaded.

His heart melted anew. Oh, Jesus, not that face, not that face. He decided to mess with her and put on an apprehensive tone. “I dunno.. It’s a big responsibility, being a homeowner..”

She hung on his every word with wide-eyed worry. 

“The cost for materials, the labor.. In this economy, too.. Ouch.” He grimaced, both to ham up the theatrics and to force his mouth away from a smile.

“I-I’ll work, I’ll get a job, I promise-” 

He could no longer keep up the act. “Oh, fine, sure. It’s yours!” 

Olivia gasped and threw her arms around Jack’s torso. Coffee spilled out of her mug with a graceful dive and landed on the floor with an audible splash.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you- Oh, I have so much work to do-” she let go of Jack and listed the repairs. “I need a door and I have to clean the fireplace and I need to find new windows and-” 

Jack beamed as she bounced around the room. Her braid whipped through the air as she tallied up her needs. Getting to know his little bundle of contradictions was fun. 

“-nails and lumber and.. And that spot on the porch that’s sagging.. I have a lot to do if I want this ready for winter.” 

“Alright, then, that settles it,” he said. “Let’s get a move on.” 

“Where to?” she asked.

“Well, like you said, winter’s on the way. Let’s get building.” 

She smiled, somehow wider than her smile already was. “Yeah! Let’s do it!”

She ran out the door and jumped off the stairs instead of walking down. “Where can we go shopping for supplies?” she asked, turning back to him.

Jack followed and took the steps as normal. “We’ll see what we have in Sanctuary before we look elsewhere. I’ll have to get you a workbench down here.” 

Olivia hopped and skipped ahead. “My own workbench, I-” 

She wasn’t watching her step and nearly tripped. 

«Tabarnak!» she swore. Olivia threw her hands up in mock-offense. “Who put this root here, eh?” 

She laughed off the transgression, tucked the stem of the hubflower behind her ear and turned her pirate smile toward Sanctuary.

Jack Ward, ol’ 111 himself, was thoroughly charmed. Miss Olivia Dallaire contained multitudes. 

Sweet, funny, capable, sensitive. A reader, a fighter, an animal-lover and an occasional jokester who stopped to smell the roses.  

He remembered the leadup to Arturo’s last title fight, when he lived at the house with Jack and Nora. 

One night in the later stages of her pregnancy, Nora laid on the couch as Arturo and Jack sat on the floor surrounded by the pieces of a yet-to-be constructed crib.

Arturo lectured their unborn child on the syntax, phonetics and style guide of French Canadian cursing.

«Esti de câlice de tabarnak!» Arturo exclaimed. "That is what we say when the baby crib is hard to build! You better like it!"

Jack wiped a tear from his cheek as he followed Olivia to Sanctuary.

Arturo would have been so proud to be your uncle. So proud.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 1

Series Summary: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she hates how everyone thinks Harry is. Because she knows that's not the case.

Chapter Summary: Cassidy, begrudgingly, finds herself at Harry's secret show in London in December 2019, and thinks about some of the few times she actually liked being in the same room as him, and a few of the reasons why that changed.

Chapter Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, alcoholic parent, smut- intercourse using a condom, anxiety attack, mention of Kendall Jenner (please no hate)

[ present - Dec 2019 ]

It's been a couple of years since Cassidy's seen, and talked to, that twerp. No, twerp isn't the right word. That's what she'd call him when he'd throw mud pies at her and his sister. No, asshole is a much better word to describe him. Because his level of arrogance and annoyingness only grew with him over the years.

So, why she agreed to meet Gemma for this specific event is a mystery. Being at one of Harry's shows is less than ideal. Gemma could have picked anywhere else. And Cassidy would have preferred anywhere else. But, she's here because Gemma is her best friend, and she's missed her, so she just couldn't say no.

Her anxiety heightens as the lights dim and the crowd begins to cheer.

"Style." A voice sounds through the speakers. "Style is the answer to everything."

Is he serious? The answer to everything? He really is an arrogant son of a bitch. Of course this is his intro. Clearly his ego hasn't changed. It has definitely grown, which she didn't think was possible, but also can't be shocked by.

"To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art."

Wrong. To do a dangerous thing, or really just anything, with Harry Styles is what Cassidy would call stupidity. And she knows first hand. She was stupid once.

[ flashback - Oct 2015 ]

Cassidy only went to shows with Gemma, and this time was no exception, but usually she is dragged there. However, the last concert of the 'On The Road Again' tour, the last concert before their hiatus, seemed like an important enough event for her to attend, without any resistance. Well, without as much resistance.

And she has to admit, the energy is electric. Even her disdain for a certain One Direction member can't really prevent her from enjoying the night. So much so that she tears up at the end, with all the 'thank yous' and hugs. So much so that she agrees to go with Gemma to meet up with them backstage. So much so that she agrees to go to the after party they have planned at the hotel, on the vip floor.

Thankfully, she and Gemma managed to snag two hotel rooms to avoid taking the hour and a half hour drive home. They usually share, but with Gemma's boyfriend there, she is not about to share a room with them. This means that there's nothing in the way of her attending the party and easily escaping back to the room when she wants to leave. She is certain she won't want to stick around too long.

Cassidy walks into the party in a black velvet crop top with matching fitted mini skirt. A bit casual, but still meeting the party vibe. She instantly feels excitement and anxiety wash over her simultaneously, seeing the grandeur of the room and the abundance of guests already in attendance, and already in full party mode.

"Come on, CJ, let's live it up tonight, 'kay?" Gemma states, more so than asks, and Cassidy knows she doesn't have much choice. Not that she's one to turn down a party, but she's never been to one this elaborate.

"Drinks first then." She replies, pointing straight over to the open bar across the expansive room.

They make their way through the crowds, who are chatting and dancing, to finally reach their destination.

"Long Island iced tea, please." Cassidy orders.

"Oh my god!" Gemma chuckles, glancing at her friend with wide eyes. "You're not messing around!"

"Nope!" She replies, grabbing the glass as soon as it is placed in front of her and immediately taking a sip. "Living it up, right?"

Gemma chuckles again with a nod, ordering her own beverage. Cassidy turns around and leans on the bar counter, scanning the faces just to see if she recognizes anyone in attendance. Anyone besides the obvious.

She spots Louis' sister, Lottie, who she has talked to before a few times backstage, so she motions to Gemma that she's going to mingle, and makes her way to the middle of the room.

She's about ten steps in when a tall figure blocks her path, causing her to abruptly freeze in place. She looks up to find Harry's piercing green eyes, something almost dangerous within his gaze.

"Didn't think you'd be here…" He states, a low hum to his tone. "Didn't think you'd even wanna come."

"I didn't." She replies, taking a long sip of her drink as she glares up at him through her lashes. "But I'm here for Gemma. And the band."

"You know, I'm part of the band."

"Oh, I'm well aware." She rolls her eyes, knowing full well that he is trying to pull a compliment out of her for himself. "But not everything is about you. Not just you, at least."

He smirks, much to her annoyance, and shakes his head. He looks past her, catching the attention of someone else, then drops his gaze back down.

"Have fun, Cass." His palm quickly comes up and pats her shoulder as he walks around her, leaving her alone again to get back to her original intent, finding another friend.

She takes a deep breath and notices that Lottie has moved, so she scans the room again and makes her way over to chat with Louis.

"Hi, love!" He greets her.

"Hey." She replies, meeting him halfway for a hug "So… do I congratulate you or what?"

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders.

"S'pose. Don' really know. Ya know? Bu' it's cool I guess."

"Well, congrats anyway."

"Ya 'aving fun?" He asks with a wide grin. "Did Harry find ya?"

"Unfortunately, yes." She groans, bringing her glass to her lips and letting a decent amount enter her mouth. They all know about the back and forth between the two of them.

"Keep drinking tha' and ya might be best friends by the end of the night!"

"Doubtful." She shakes her head, knowing there would have to be a lethal amount of alcohol in her system to even consider that as a possibility.

•••

It's not lethal, but there is definitely a lot of alcohol in her system, which is thoroughly taking over her, because she is still there and having a lot of fun.

She is dancing with Gemma, Lottie, and a girl who is dating the drummer. Or the bass player. She can't really remember in her inebriated state, but she knows she's enjoying herself.

"Shit. I need some air!" She exclaims, slowing down her body and fixing her hair before making her way out of the doors to the large balcony.

She leans against the railing, looking out at the city nightlife below, and takes a deep breath in.

"Taking a break?" An unfamiliar voice asks. "You've been going at it all night!"

She turns to the voice beside her, to be met with a guy she doesn't recognize. She smiles and lets out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah. I'm just trying to get some peace and calm to recharge."

"Cig?" The guy asks, already holding out an unlit stick in her direction.

She never smokes. She has before, it's just not her thing. But apparently all inhibition has now left because she takes the cigarette and allows the stranger to light it.

"It looks like you've been having fun out there…" The stranger leans over to make eye contact, Cassidy meeting his gaze as best she can with her lightheadedness.

"Surprisingly, yeah!" She chuckles, placing her lips on the stick and sucking in, letting a cloud of smoke exit in front of her.

"I'll join you if you hit the dance floor again." He offers, bumping her shoulder playfully and displaying a small smirk. It's not as noticeable as Harry's is. But it's also not as annoying or arrogant either. No one's could be.

"Okay!" She smiles back, glancing over and noticing how pretty the stranger's eyes are. Or at least she thinks they are.

"Hey mate!" She suddenly hears on the other side of her, causing her head to whip around and find herself meeting Harry's gaze.

"What's up. You're Harry, right? I'm Nathan." The stranger asks, whose name she now knows is Nathan. Hopefully she can remember that in her current state. She turns around to see him reach his hand out to the pest standing next to her.

"Yeah. Nice to meet you. Is this one bothering you?" Harry chuckles, pointing his thumb right in her face. She lifts up her free hand to swat it away, and does something a sober Cassidy wouldn't. She turns and giggles at Harry's gesture.

His eyes go wide and a blush rushes to her cheeks. She turns back to the stranger and takes a deep breath to do anything she can to regain control over her actions.

"Nah, we're having fun." Her new friend replies. "We were about to get back to the dance floor. Right, umm…?"

"Her name is Cassidy." Harry responds before she does, a neutral but almost stern tone.

"Cassidy? Cool." Nathan quietly states. "So, yeah. Are you… ready to head in?"

"Yeah." She replies with a nod. "I'll be there in a minute."

He nods and snuffs out his own cigarette before walking back inside.

Her head immediately snaps over to Harry, a little surprised that her level of frustration with him is not nearly as high as it usually is. But it's still there.

"What are you doing?" She asks, watching as he pulls on his lower lip.

"What?"

"Why'd you walk over here?" She subtly scowls back, again surprised that it isn't as intense, but also recognizing that the Long Island iced teas have weakened her guard against him.

"Wanted to introduce myself. I like to know the names of the people at our parties."

"Yeah right. You only came over to annoy me." She rolls her eyes, realizing there is a smile across her face and swiftly corrects her expression.

"Not everything is about you, Cass." He smirks, clearly feeling triumphant for his use of her earlier insult.

"Yeah well you don't have to try and ruin the night for me either way…"

"Doesn't look like I've been ruining it. Looks like you've been dancing around and having fun."

"You were watching me?" She shakes her head and holds her hand up in front of his face. "Doesn't matter. I was having fun, and now I'm going back to have some more."

"See you inside then."

"Please don't." She pleads, snuffing out the cigarette she admits she didn't like smoking, then turning back towards the doors and heading inside.

Gemma, Lottie, and now Lou Teasdale are all still dancing right where she left them, so she bounces up to her friends and begins to join in on the dancing again.

She glances around, not seeing the guy she had just met outside, the one who was supposedly her new dance partner, but she is drunk enough, carefree enough, and having enough fun to shrug it off.

After one song ends and the next transitions in, Michal appears next to Gemma and whispers in her ear, causing her to giggle, and then motions to Cassidy that they'll be heading over to the bar.

"We're grabbing a drink too. But we'll be back." Lottie states, linking arms with Lou. "Are you good here?"

Cassidy shrugs and nods, truly not in the mindset to care anymore. They walk away and she is left to dance by herself. Hopefully not for too long.

About half a song in, warm hands slide on to her hips, and she smiles. Finally her new dance partner has joined her. But her eyes catch the gaze of the guy she thought was behind her, also standing over at the bar, and she suddenly smells the unmistakably deep fragrance that can only belong to the one and only Harry Styles. So not only has she been left alone, which she doesn't mind, but now she's left alone with the one person she didn't want or expect to be dancing behind her.

Yet, she doesn't move.

His hands are strong, and ever so slightly caressing her hips as they sway to the music. His breath is warm, and hitting her neck in a labored rhythm. His chest is pressed up against her. She doesn't know if she's ever felt this way with someone on the dancefloor. Maybe that's just the alcohol talking. But she knows she's never felt this way with Harry, in any situation.

Yet, she doesn't move.

Instead, something ignites in her. She, unintentionally, reaches a hand behind her to grab onto the back of his neck. His breath hitches and hers follows as he pulls her closer and she feels how much he's enjoying it all.

"Cass…" He whispers in her ear.

She spins around within his hold, locking on his gorgeous green eyes that now have a hint of excitement and danger.

Her fingers travel up into the hair on the back of his head. He releases a low growl and pulls her hips flush against his, causing his lips to hover just in front of hers.

"Wanna leave?" He asks, sending a shiver down her spine.

It's the alcohol. She's blaming the multiple Long Island iced teas for the fact that she nods in response. That and the fact that she hasn't had much intimacy in a while. That is what is to blame.

He spins her back around to face away from him and guides her through the crowds with his hands on her waist. Her bare waist, thanks to her fantastic choice in outfit.

The elevator ride is only down one floor, and he all but pushes her down the hallway to his suite. As soon as the room door is closed, he pulls her in towards him and places his soft, pouty lips against her neck. She lets out a sigh and he lets in a breath, followed by a low growl.

"You smell like that damn cigarette smoke." He mumbles, and she pushes back, mildly embarrassed that the smell on her has stopped their activities.

"Bathroom?"

"That way."

She swiftly makes her way to the other room, immediately grabbing a bottle of mouthwash and swishing as much of it around in her mouth as she can. After she spits it out, she finds a small bar of soap to quickly wash off her neck, hoping it'll remove the smell. As soon as she dries off, she catches her reflection in the mirror.

What is she doing? This is Harry. Her best friend's brother and the guy she usually can't be bothered to be around. What is she doing?

She walks out, deciding she should probably stop what has been started, or about to be started. She is almost instantly met by Harry's frame, pushing himself off the wall nearby.

He slinks over, closing the gap between them, and places his hands on her bare waist once again. Her hesitation seems to melt away by the warmth of his touch, as his forehead presses on hers. Then his lips meet her neck again, causing that heat to wash over her, as her entire body melts into him, just as her hesitation had seconds before.

"You okay with this?" He utters against her skin.

"Y-yes." She replies, the shakiness of her words produced by the anticipation in her body. The alcohol. It's the alcohol. It has to be.

He pulls his head back, his eyes flickering between hers and her lips. One hand places on the back of her head and brings her closer to him. Their breaths are matched in their acceleration and she bites her lip before they press against him.

Goosebumps rush all over her. No kiss has felt this good. At least, she has no memory of one feeling this good. Not that she can think of much else at the moment.

His tongue parts her lips, working itself inside her mouth in the most tantalizing way, as he walks her backwards to the bed. Her legs hit the side of the bed frame, then her back hits the mattress, and she finds herself caged within Harry's tattooed arms.

His fingers run up her shirt as his lips meet hers once again. Everything tingles. Every inch of her body is sparked by him.

The next thing she knows, all remaining clothes are removed, and everything becomes an ignited blur of her senses. The feeling of hands roaming each other's skin, the sound of their combined symphony of moans throughout the room, the smell of sweat and Harry's sultry cologne, the taste of his lips on hers, the sight of his toned, tattooed body hovering over and rolling into her.

"Oh my-... Harry…" She whimpers out, her eyes scrunched shut and her head thrown back from the overwhelming pleasure he's providing her.

"Say it-" He utters, panting as he thrusts back into her. "Say it again." He pleads, pulling out and slamming back in. "Say my name again."

If she were sober, and not completely succumbed to the ecstasy of being filled by Harry, she would have scoffed at the narcissism. But she knows she won't hold back. Almost as if he deserves to hear her do as he's asked.

"Harry."

"Fuck, Cassidy. That sounds… like fucking music!" He growls into her neck. "Are you close?"

"Yes. So-" She breathes out, feeling her body tighten. "So close."

"Look at me. P-please." He asks of her, and she obeys, her eyes snapping open and fixating on him.

"Harry, I'm-"

"Go on." He moans, picking up the pace of his thrusts as his eyes fill with determination. "I need you… to cum on me, Cass."

That last statement opens the floodgates and her jaw drops open as complete satisfaction rolls over her.

"Oh my god… Oh my god!"

Harry growls again and his motions get faster. And deeper. And unsteady.

"That's it. Fuck. That's…" He thrusts deep once more and halts his movements, moaning as she feels the pulsating inside of her.

They pant together as they both ride their highs, his body falling down onto hers as they both attempt to catch their breaths.

Harry pulls out, removing, tying up, and throwing away the condom in the bedside rubbish bin. He lays back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, just as she does.

"That was… wow!" He exclaims with a breathy chuckle.

"It really was." She admits, having yet to make eye contact with him since he was inside her. She begins to push herself off the bed, grabbing the bra that had been discarded on the floor nearby.

She feels his warm hand on her hip, causing her to look back over her shoulder.

"Cass, you don't have to go." He whispers. Her heart almost stops, and she finds herself laying back down, curling into his toned, but comforting chest, and she can feel sleep begin to take over her as the pleasurable adrenaline wears off.

•••

Cassidy's eyes blink open and her hangover-induced headache prevents her from initially getting her bearings. She looks to her side as she hears subtle, steady breathing.

"Shit." She whispers to herself. It's not as if she doesn't remember the activities from last night, but her sobering has brought clarity to the situation they find themselves in now.

She had sex with Harry.

It was drunk sex, she gets a small pass for that, but it was sex nonetheless. He's her best friend's brother. He's her personal pest. He's a fucking mega popstar who probably has a girl in every city, waiting for him to call on them whenever he is in town and needs some release.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." She repeats, slowly maneuvering out of his hold and off of the bed. She grabs her clothes and swiftly redresses herself, making sure to not make any noise.

Harry begins to stir, and after she opens the door, she turns back to face his direction, seeing his eyes still shut and his body still sprawled across the bed.

"Bye, H." She whispers.

"Mm." He mumbles, not giving her certainty that he actually heard her words.

She sighs, feeling so many things, incomprehensible at the moment, and closes the door behind her.

[ flashback - Dec 2015 ]

Either she doesn't learn her lesson, or she just likes to make life difficult for herself, because once again Cassidy finds herself sitting next to Gemma. This time it's in the X-Factor studio, waiting to watch One Direction give their final performance.

But then again, she isn't there solely for Harry, and she isn't there to get into anything with him again. She is there to support Gemma, who just happens to be supporting him, as well as the other three members of the group. That's all it is. So she doesn't need to feel weird or bad about being there.

Besides, it's not as if he made any effort to reach out after she left his hotel room that next morning. It was just another drunken one night stand to him.

And to her.

Just a one night stand that needs no further acknowledgement or conversation. Especially since Gemma doesn't know. She doesn't need to know, because it meant nothing and nothing more is coming from it.

She shakes her head. For someone who doesn't care about that one night, she realizes she is dwelling on it, and him, a bit too much.

That's the end of that.

She looks over to her best friend, and rubs her hand along her back to soothe her when she sees the tears trickling down Gemma's face. This is why she's there.

•••

"You are coming with me, CJ!" Gemma exclaims, throwing an outfit to Cassidy, who is sitting on her own hotel bed.

"I'm really inclined to pass on that offer." She replies, standing up and grabbing some sweatpants from her bag.

"It wasn't really an offer. More of a demand."

Cassidy lets out a laugh. Gemma is quite persistent and quite persuasive. But Cassidy is stubborn and won't go down without a fight.

"Gem, I don't want to get drunk and I don't want to be around a bunch of people I don't know."

"You don't have to drink. And you can hang around me!" She grins. "Plus, honestly, everyone loved you at the last after party…"

She felt flattered, and knew that Gemma really wanted her there. With Cassidy having started a new job, and Gemma about to venture off to start some projects of her own, their hangouts together would be cut down in quantity.

She sighs, rolls her eyes, and grabs the outfit that has be thrown in her direction.

"Fine. But m'not gonna like it."

"Don't care." Gemma replies, both smiling at each other.

As long as Cassidy can keep the drinking to a minimum, though she'll have some to keep her stress at bay, she should be able to survive the party. And not wake up regretting the night before.

•••

One drink in and she feels good. She's having fun, dancing, but still able to keep her guard up and be on alert for anyone trying to charm their way into her pants. Or her sleeveless, sweetheart neckline mini dress, in this case.

She's managed to do just that, so far.

As Gemma twirls Cassidy around on the dance floor, a tall figure with long curly hair catches her eye. She finishes her spin under her friend's arm, but her eyes stay fixed on him. Harry's gaze is piercing. Right through her. Enough to make her shudder, despite the room being filled with warmth from all the bodies. The furrow of his brow, the way one arm is crossed over his chest but the other hand is pulling on his bottom lip, the way his frame is pointed directly at her, all causes a knot to form in the pit of her stomach.

He looks mad that she's there.

He can be. He has no reason to be, but he can be. That's none of her concern. He has plenty of girls to choose from to satisfy whatever needs he has tonight. And she can party away however she wants to. It's not just his party and she's allowed to be there, because it's not all about him.

Her eyes flicker to her left and she realizes there is a gorgeous girl dancing next to her. Maybe his look isn't of anger towards her, maybe he's picked his victim… his partner… for the night.

"Hey." Cassidy leans over to the girl. "I think Harry is eyeing you…"

The girl's eyes snap over to where Cassidy discreetly points, not being as subtle.

"Harry Styles? No way…"

"He's staring over here. It's definitely at you."

The girl looks back towards her with a giddy grin, shrugging at the suggestion.

"I don't know…" She replies sheepishly.

"Go over and talk to him. He only looks intimidating. He's really not." She has no idea why she is trying to sell this idea to this random girl, and more so than that, doesn't understand why she's basically lying to her. Although, Harry seems to only put out his true, horrible nature towards her. No one else. So, she supposes, it's technically not a lie.

As the girl turns and makes her way to that side of the room, Harry straightens up but his glare to Cassidy deepens. She has no idea how he could still be mad, she just tried to help him. She sent a gorgeous girl his way, if anything, he should be grateful. But, he can't, and clearly won't, give her any credit. That's the selfish prick he is.

•••

After allowing herself another drink, since she's been feeling fine and controlled so far, she mentions to Gemma that she urgently needs to use the restroom.

She trots out of the banquet room, and down the hallway.

"Cassidy!" She hears shouted from behind her, just as she reaches the door to the ladies room.

She turns around to see Harry hastily making his way to her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He scowls, pressing one palm firmly on the wall as he reaches her.

"Going to the bathroom, you twit!" She replies.

"That's not what I mean!" His breath heaving as he stares down at her. The need to relieve herself becomes strong and she begins to squirm.

"Look, whatever I did, m'sorry. Okay?" She rolls her eyes, beginning to push the door open slightly. "But I have got to go. So, piss off!"

"Cass-"

"I said piss off!"

She pushes the door further open and lets it slam shut, hopefully right into his face.

She does her business and checks her outfit in the mirror, making sure her hair and makeup are still holding up as well. She stands there for a moment, a little proud of how she handled Harry in the hallway. Maybe it was a little snappy. She's only had two drinks, so it wasn't a drunken tone. They just have nothing to talk about, and he definitely didn't need to come at her like that, for no reason. The familiar frustration resurfaces, and she feels better with the comfortable emotion she usually feels towards him. With that she exits the bathroom.

She almost stops in place when she sees Harry's long, curly hair and tall, broad frame leaning against the wall, his back turned to her. A giggle rings out through the hallway and Cassidy rolls her eyes as she sees a hand grab his bicep.

Flirting in the hallway. Not surprising.

She makes her way past them, not even a glance in their direction, and pushes through the doors leading back into the party.

Her eyes scan the room, looking for friends or even a familiar face she can converse with, but she is stopped when a large palm gently grabs her shoulder from behind, the other sliding onto her waist.

She growls, not only at who it is, but also because of the fact that she is now able to recognize him just by the touch. Well, the touch and the fragrance. She pulls away and twists around.

"What do you want?" She scowls, and sees Harry's intense frown, yet again.

"Why've you been ignoring me all fucking night?"

"What are you talking about?"

He stands up straighter and crosses his arms, causing some sort of anxiousness to course through her.

"You haven't even bothered to say hello!"

"I didn't know I was required to."

"You're not…" His volume dims down slightly, and his tone slightly softens. "But it's polite… it's my party after all."

"It's not just your party, Harry. It's for the band, and the crew." She scoffs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And you've been getting enough attention. I don't understand why you're hung up on not getting mine."

He leans his back against the nearby wall, arms still crossed and gaze still piercing.

"That's the other thing. What the fuck was that? Why'd you send some random girl over to, like, flirt with me?"

His question completely throws her off and she's unsure if she heard him correctly. There's no way he can be upset about that. He can't be upset that a girl went to do the one thing he himself seems to be so good at, besides singing.

"What the-... You were looking at her! I just encouraged her over there."

"I wasn't-" He sighs, running one hand through his hair, shaking his locks to reset their style. She remembers how they felt within her grasp, and takes a subtle step back to compose herself. He seems to notice, though, as he takes a bigger step towards her. "Whatever. I don't need your help, yeah?"

Of course. His ego. It was a blow to his ego that she thought he needed some assistance to get someone's attention and hook up with them.

"Trust me, Harry, I could care less what you do and who you do it with."

"Trust me, Cassidy, I know."

For the second time, his comment throws her off completely, but she doesn't have time to respond as.he brushes past her and heads back into the crowds of people.

Determination to not let him ruin her night bubbles up and she makes her way back to the dance floor, where she finds her friends.

"You alright, CJ? Do you wanna go?" Gemma asks.

Cassidy happens to catch Harry's glance, causing them both to frown in the other's direction, especially when she sees Harry turn back towards the girl he was supposedly upset was encouraged to go to him. She sees him whisper something in the girl's ear, receiving a nod, and both beginning to make their way to the door.

She clenches her jaw. What a prick, to argue with her about that girl, when he is doing the thing that Cassidy had assumed he wanted to do. At least now she doesn't have to be on edge, now that he has gone.

"CJ? Hello?" She hears. "Me and Michal are gonna head to our room. Are you staying?"

"Oh, umm, yeah I actually wanna stay." She brings her gaze back to Gemma, being met with a wide-eyed expression from her best friend. Cassidy just shrugs. "I'm having fun."

"Wow!" Gemma chuckles. "Okay! Well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Have fun…"

"You too…" She replies, kissing Gemma on the cheek and sending her on her way.

She continues to stick by Lottie and Lou, but after just a few more songs, they also state that they are calling it a night.

With no one else to hang out with, Cassidy quickly decides to do the same. She walks over to the bar, intending to pull out some cash that she had previously stored in her strapless bra, but she realizes she cannot feel any there.

"Need help finding something?" She hears, a chuckle following, and she sees Harry arrive at her side.

Her entire body tenses. Why can't he just leave her alone? Why does he have to bother her?

"Piss off." She sighs, dropping her head in embarrassment at her lack of tip. "I thought… I had money."

"Oh." He replies, in a surprisingly compassionate and gentle tone. "Here."

He pulls out his wallet and hands a few notes to the bartender.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly…" He replies, rolling his eyes.

She growls, glaring into his green eyes, remembering the way they had looked so lustful at the last after party she attended.

"Thank you." She quietly states between her teeth.

He chuckles and she turns away, taking a few steps before she feels her body being guided to a dark corner of the room.

Harry turns her around to face him, as she backs up to the wall. It was an attempt to get some distance, which she immediately realizes is a failure as he steps closer.

"You're infuriating, you know that?"

"Me?" She gasps at the audacity, and irony, of him calling her that. "You're joking!"

He keeps silent, keeping his gaze locked on her, as if she'd disappear once he moved it.

"What are you doing here?" She asks in a whisper, her breath beginning to falter at keeping steady. "I thought… I thought you left with that girl."

A smirk appeared, showcasing his devilish dimple, the one every girl seems to swoon over.

"Did you miss me?"

"Get over yourself." She replies. He scoots closer, his palms pushing against the wall on either side of her head, and her breath hitches. "Whatever game you're trying to play, I don't want to participate."

"No game." He bites his lower lip, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting hers again. "But I think you do want to participate."

She looks down to where his eyes drop again, taking in the sight of her own hands grasping his half-buttoned shirt. It was unintentional. She pushes against his chest, only moving him back an inch, if that, and she wraps her arms across her chest.

"Leave me alone. Go back to your girl."

"Why are you so insistent that I be with her?"

"You don't want to be? 'Cause you left with her..."

"She was wasted so I walked her to the elevator." He utters, his warm breath heating her cheeks. "She wanted more, thanks to you I guess, but I didn't, so I sent a security guy with-"

"I'm surprised you actually turned someone down!"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you." He whispers, leaving Cassidy a little unsure if she was meant to hear the statement.

Her heart races as one palm makes its way to her hip, and his eyes flicker down to her lips.

With all he's done to pester her throughout the years, this frustrates her the most. Not just that he's doing it, but that she seems to be caving in to it.

"What are you doing, Harry?" She utters, unable to produce much volume, and also not wanting to grab attention from anyone else.

"Whatever you want me to do." He smirks, his hand slowly moving over her hip and to her thigh, where he begins to play with the hem of her mini dress. "Stop me if you don't."

She exhales a shaky breath, all heat and sensation rushing to her core. Her hands grip his biceps, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. She's definitely caving to it.

His fingers slide under her dress, just enough to grasp onto her upper thigh and begin playing with the hem of her panties, running his fingers along the fabric. She bites her lower lip and moves her hands up to his shoulders, weaving her fingers into his hair. He smirks, pushing her panties aside, and he glides two fingers along her folds, drawing a hiss from her lips.

"Harry…" She whines, squirming at the need for more.

"Not yet. Not here." He whispers, removing his fingers from under her dress and bringing them to his lips, sucking on them slowly. She swallows to clear the lump in her throat in an attempt to compose herself.

"Wanna leave?" He asks, exactly like at the last after party, a sultry deepness to his tone.

And just like the last time, she finds herself nodding.

•••

"I've been wanting to get this dress off you all night." Harry mumbles, sliding his hands up her thighs as she straddles him on the couch in his hotel suite.

"All night?"

Her question is met with his lips on her collarbone, and her dress being pushed over her hips to her waist. She grabs the hem and pulls it off the rest of the way, smirking at the way Harry's eyes widen with desire as he looks over her body.

"Fucking beautiful." He pants out, subtly bucking his hips up, and she gasps at the feeling of how hard he is under her. She reaches down and unbuttons his pants, propping herself up as he slides them down his legs.

She stands up, removing her own panties, and he quickly plucks a small square package out of the wallet in his jean pocket. She unclasps her bra and watches as he pulls down his briefs, releasing his big, thick cock from its confines.

His gaze snaps up to her, his lips pulled inward.

"Are you sure?" He questions quietly, almost as if he's afraid her answer has changed. Of course he wouldn't be used to rejection, but she's not exactly in the mood to be the first one to do it. They've come this far, she isn't really considering turning back now.

She grabs the condom packet and rips it open between her teeth, stroking the latex down his length before returning to her spot on his lap.

Her lips return to his neck, his hands returning to her waist, and she guides herself down slowly onto his cock.

"Oh my god." She whispers into his shoulder, slowing down even more to adjust to how much he's already stretching her out.

They both let out a breath once he's fully inside of her.

"Bloody hell, Cass. You feel so good." He mumbles, throwing his head back against the couch as she begins to grind. "So… fucking good."

She pulls back to watch his face melt with pleasure, her hands traveling through his hair with a tight grip, extracting a deep moan from his chest. He brings one palm up to the back of her head and brings her closer, pressing his lips to hers. His tongue pushes between them, and swirls with hers in parallel motions.

The moans leaving her lips are reciprocated by his, along with some pushing up of his hips, deepening himself inside of her.

"Harry… h-hard."

"What?"

"I want you to… to fuck me… hard." She almost whines. If she were in any other mindset, she might think she was pathetic, but all she can focus on at this moment is just how good she's feeling. How good Harry is making her feel, and how she just wants more.

"Fuck. Okay." He moans out. "I'll do anything… anything you want, Cass."

He thrusts up into her more vigorously, holding her down by her hips, getting a lot deeper than he'd been before.

"Oh god. Yes. Harry that's-" She moans out. "That's it."

"Fuck, I love that… you moaning my name."

"Harry, I'm… I'm…"

"Show me." He states against her skin. "Come on, Cass. Show me how good I'm making you feel!"

His way with words is impeccable, because his statement, along with him moaning her name, sends her over the edge. The pleasure of her orgasm ripples through her entire body, feeling better than any she's had before.

"Harry! Oh god!"

He thrusts up even harder and faster, grunting with every motion as he stares down to where their bodies meet.

As she catches her breath, she kisses along his shoulder, up his neck, and nibbles at his earlobe. She feels him squeeze her hips tighter and smiles as she feels his body tense.

"Fuck! Cassidy!" He exclaims, slamming into her one more time before she feels him throbbing inside of her.

His head drops backwards to the couch, and her face nuzzles into his neck, as they both come down from their high. Panting is the only sound left in the now quiet room.

"Wanna stay the night again?" Harry chuckles, and Cassidy is suddenly brought back to the realization that she just had sex, for a second time, with Harry. Her biggest annoyance, Harry. Gemma's brother, Harry. A member of One Direction, Harry Styles.

She feels his hands gently rubbing up and down her arms, snapping her back to the present, just enough for her to realize that her breathing has become shallow again.

Because sitting on top of Harry, with his cock still inside her, after amazing sex, is the perfect time for an anxiety attack.

"Hey… Cass…" He whispers, taking her chin with one hand and directing her to look at him. "Y'alright?"

A deep frown forms on his face as his eyes flicker all over hers. She's unsure if she's ever seen that expression on him before. It's always been one of mischief, because that's who he is. Not this.

She feels so stupid. And embarrassed. She isn't better than any other girl that has or will drop their pants at the sight of his seductive smirk, or his entrancing gaze, or his overwhelmingly thick charm. In fact, she's worse, because she actually knows better. She knows him, how he teases and tortures her, how his arrogance alone could be the fifth member of One Direction now. She knows how he figures he can win over any girl he wants, and that he actually does most of the time. She knows better than to be that girl. Except, she's not.

"CJ!" She is pulled out of her thoughts by the nickname. He's never called her that before. Only the closest people in her life ever use it- her own mum, Gemma, and Anne. Never once has Harry. Because they've never been that close. But now that he's been inside of her, he thinks he knows her that well?

"Cassidy… look at me." His finger moves her face again, finally grabbing her full attention, even though it's through blurred vision from the sudden lightheadedness. "Breathe with me, yeah? Inhale for ten. Then exhale for ten."

He may think he knows her now but she definitely doesn't feel like she knows him anymore. Concerned? Caring? It's not how she knows him, but she acknowledges it's how she needs him right now, so she breathes with him.

"... and exhale for ten." He utters, his eyes still fixed on hers as they breathe out together, one hand on her back and one tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Better?"

She gives a quick nod before abruptly standing up, causing them both to hiss at the sensitive motion. Her breath may be steady but her thoughts are not. Everything feels so complicated and uncertain. She hates not knowing what's going on, she hates feeling out of control. She's had enough of that in her life already.

She gathers her clothes and redresses quickly, avoiding any eye contact as Harry does the same, almost in a panic himself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks quietly, arriving at her side as she attempts to move to the door.

"Umm… yeah." She manages. "I'm just gonna go."

"You don't have to." He replies, reaching out and gently grabbing the hand that's not holding the door handle. "Please stay."

"I don't think-"

"I'd…" He runs his free hand through his hair, and displays another expression she has never seen before. If she could clear her head, she might be able to decipher whether it actually is what it looks like. Because it looks timid, and almost insecure. "I'd feel better if you stayed. Just so I know you're okay."

"I'm fine Harry." She replies, flickering her gaze up for a moment in an attempt to persuade him.

"I'm sorry if I did something wrong…"

If her brain wasn't swirling enough, his sudden change in demeanor is not helping in the least.

"No. I just… I think it's better if… I just go." She mumbles. He softly squeezes the hand in his hold and leans down to place a kiss on her cheek, sending more sparks throughout her body and more thoughts to swirl around her head. She opens the door and walks out, turning around before it comes to a close, and being met with a solemn expression. "Goodnight, Harry."

•••

A knock on the door late at night would've normally woken her up, but tonight she has had no sleep. After leaving Harry's room, and arriving at her own, she almost wished she were with him again as she felt another anxiety attack threaten to appear.

A shower and change of clothes helped to calm her, but not calm her enough, so she was able to hop right out of bed when she heard a subtle, rhythmic noise on the hotel door.

She cautiously cracks it open, considering the time of night. Or morning at this point.

A figure, adorned with a hoodie and shorts, leans with one hand against the doorframe. He lifts his head slowly, tired eyes clearly visible even through her own sleepy vision.

"I couldn't sleep." Harry mumbles. "M'sorry. I needed to know you were okay."

Her heart flutters, even with all the knowledge she has of how he normally is, the concern was too flattering to ignore. She reaches for his hand and walks backwards, pulling him inside her room. The door closes behind them and she walks him to her bed, lifting the covers so they can both slide in. It's not the first time they've slept in the same room. Every time she stayed the night for a sleepover with Gemma, he had found a way and a reason to sneak down there. Most of the time, it was to execute a practical joke. But there were a few times they had awoken to him sleeping on the couch across from them in the living room.

Plus, she stayed with him the last time they had sex.

As they both settle in, she feels a warm arm rest across her waist, and she scoots back to nestle into his frame. For the first time that night, since getting back to her room, she felt some peace, as well as her eyes becoming heavy with sleep.

•••

Cassidy blinks awake as the room becomes a shade brighter, and looks over to find an empty spot next to her. She shouldn't be surprised, and she isn't, but that doesn't stop a mild amount of disappointment from creeping in.

That is until she registers the shower turning off. Harry is still there? Harry is still there.

The bathroom door opens and she props herself up to see his tall, toned, and tattooed body half wrapped in a towel, with his hair styled up in a bun.

"Morning." He states with a smirk, probably noticing the way her eyes travel up and down his frame. "Sleep well?"

The shock in her system prevents words from forming, but still functions well enough to respond with a nod.

"Good."

"W-what are you-"

"I ordered breakfast. My shout, don't worry. Hopefully you still like crepes."

Her brain is still having a hard time processing the fact that he didn't just leave. Not only has he stayed and ordered breakfast, but he ordered something she used to eat with his family years ago, before his journey to fame even began.

"Yeah, I do. Thanks."

"No problem." He replies, walking over to the bag he brought the night before, and rifling through before pulling out some sweats and a shirt.

"Harry… what are you still doing here?"

He turns around to face her, a clear frown on his face, as if offended by her question. It shouldn't be unreasonable for her to wonder. He's sure to have had plenty of one night stands before, and usually those don't include breakfast the next morning.

"I couldn't just leave you. That'd be rude."

Cassidy's head drops with a bit of guilt for questioning him, though she still does feel a little justified considering his reputation. But the fact that he is still standing in her room causes another flutter and she pushes away her assumptions.

She opens her mouth, not exactly sure what she wants to say, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. She sits up on the bed, bringing her knees to her chest, as Harry opens the door and wheels in a food cart.

"I know you don't have a proper table…" He states, wheeling the cart to the edge of the bed and patting the mattress for her to scoot up there. "But I figured this might work."

She bites her bottom lip, unintentionally, and moves to sit next to him. He removes the lids from the plates and takes a bow.

"Bonjour!" He exclaims, in his best attempt at a fake French accent. Cassidy lets out a giggle, thankful she didn't already have a bite of food in her mouth.

"I think you mean… bon appetit!"

"That's what I said." He smirks, taking a seat next to her on the bed. "Bon appetit."

•••

The TV becomes background noise throughout their breakfast. Much to Cassidy's surprise, Harry quickly initiated conversation, and it was easy to talk to him. Even more to her surprise, she liked it. They talked about many of the things she and Gemma have talked about over the years. They talked like friends.

"Nope, never been to New York. I've never even been further than London!"

"Really?"

"My parents… don't exactly travel. Only my dad, for work." She shakes her head, dropping it a little before covering up her sadness with a smile. "Maybe one day I'll get there."

"You've already got the look." He chuckles, his gaze dropping to her lips.

"What?"

"You've got a little…" He brushes his finger under his nose, but she shakes her head, not understanding. He brings his thumb up to her cupid's bow, gently rubbing it along her skin, and causing a spark to run over her skin. "Got a little white powder under your nose."

"Oh my god!" She lets out in a breathy laugh, her lungs still regaining their function after the surprise of his gesture. She stands to reach across the food cart for a napkin, but stops when she feels his hand wrapping around hers.

She faces him and gazes into his gentle green eyes. She's never seen the speckles of different shades laced throughout them before. He pulls her close, her body between his legs, and brings his palm up to run his thumb against her cheek. He gathers up the remaining sugar and brings his thumb to his mouth, sticking out his tongue to slowly lick it off.

"You forgot a bit." He whispers. Everything he has just done makes her heated and dizzy. She bites her lower lip, caving again. She doesn't want to admit it, but she can understand how girls fall for him so easily. Apparently, she's no exception, and she's not about to start dissecting all of that right now. No, right now she wants to cave even more.

Her hands come up to cup his own cheeks, and she moves forward, leaning down and stopping in front of his lips.

"You're gonna pay for that." She whispers back, pressing their lips together the most minimal amount before pulling back.

Harry runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and grabs her hips to pull her in even closer. He lets out a low growl, sending shivers down her spine and the building heat to rush to her core.

His hands slowly glide up to her waist, and as he begins to tug her onto his lap, a knock sounds at the door with a loud statement of his name.

"For fucks sake." He grumbles, letting out a heavy exhale through his nose. He squeezes her waist, having her step back so he can stand up. His breath hits her face and eyes flicker to her lips. Then another knock.

"Alright!" He shouts towards the door, turning back to her with a frown on his face. Not anger, but disappointment. "I'll, umm, see you at Christmas, yeah?"

She smiles. Every Christmas morning is spent at her house, but the afternoon and evenings are spent at the Styles household. It's always where she would rather to be, and this year is no different. She tries not to entertain the thought that it might be even more this year.

"Would never miss it." She replies, matching the sudden grin that appears on his face.

[ present - Dec 2019 ]

So, she wasn't stupid once, she was stupid twice. She let her guard down, she pushed aside every single moment that he had frustrated or pestered her during the many years they have known each other, and she let her body make all the decisions.

She hears the cheers from the crowd and tilts her head down from the upper level where she stands, to view the stage, seeing Harry walk out and give a little wave before grabbing his guitar.

Seeing him, after all this time, causes a storm of emotions so strong that it almost causes her to stumble. His hair is different, and his clothing style is different, but it is still Harry. The smug, self-centered Harry that flustered and frustrated her more than anyone else. The Harry that charmed his way into bed with her. Twice. But worst of all, due to the stupidest and most dangerous thing she did with him, he is the Harry that she allowed to charm his way into her heart too. Which means, he is also the Harry who left her feeling like a fool.

[ flashback - Dec 2015 ]

Christmas morning always comes with mixed emotions. The usual ones coming from her own family- from some nice quiet time with her mum in the morning to her father's obnoxious behavior after a few splashes of whiskey are added to his coffee. Those are normal, and unfortunately, expected.

The other ones, the new ones, are coming from the anticipation of what the afternoon with the Styles will look like. She and Harry haven't talked since he left that morning from her hotel room. Eleven days, but she won't admit she has been counting.

"Where the hell you goin?" Cassidy's dad asks, words already a little slurred. She rolls her eyes as her back is turned to him, under the disguise of simply grabbing her coat from the rack near the front door.

"To the Styles house."

"They seem like good people."

Taken back by his complimentary comment, she looks over to her dad. "Yeah. They are."

"M'surprised they let you over then. Better than you being here 'nnoying me though…"

There it is. His true nature. The reason she hates being at home and finds refuge at her best friend's house. That place never fails her.

She simply replies with a scoff as she exits the door, not even bothered by the sharp cold that hits her immediately. And thankfully, she's only walking a block away.

•••

"Crashing our Christmas again?" Harry asks as she walks into the kitchen of the Styles home. She rolls her eyes at the typical Harry statement. She can't tell if she is relieved at the normalcy or a bit put off by everything being brushed off.

"Yeah, well, you're never home, so someone has to fill that 'second child' spot." She quips back, noticing a subtle smirk appear on his face as she walks closer to grab a glass of water.

She takes a sip, and sees Harry scanning the room, before leaning down to her ear. His warm breath on her skin causes her stomach to tighten from nervousness.

"Maybe there's another spot I can fill."

Cassidy throws her hand over her mouth to stop spitting everything out across the kitchen counter, trying to also hold back a cough from the shock of such a tantilizating statement.

"Piss off, Harry."

"Aww, come on, it's the season of giving!" He chuckles, low and deep, teasing and mischievous.

"Give it to someone else." She instantly replies, unintentionally out of her instinct to squabble with him. Regret covers her as his brow furrows and he stands up straighter, all flirtatious demeanor having immediately disappeared. "Sorry, I-"

"I was only teasing, Cass. Like usual." He brushes past her and heads to the living room, where everyone else is gathered.

That response really wasn't intentional. It was how she was used to acting around him. Well, before the nights spent together at the after parties. She isn't entirely sure what her plan was when she came over, or what exactly her feelings are, but if things have gone back to normal for him, then that's where it ends. Whether she wants it that way or not.

She sighs and joins the rest of the group, giving Anne and Robin hugs before taking the only empty spot to sit. Of course, it's right next to Harry, and with the way these things usually go, that's where she'll be for most of the night.

•••

After a few rounds of playing 'Family Feud: Home Edition', which Cassidy, Harry, and Robin won, it's time for the wonderful feast Anne has prepared.

That's what Robin calls it at least. In reality, it's a few homemade pizzas, but she'd consider anything a luxury while she's there. Plus, they really are delicious.

"Are you doing anything extravagant for New Year's Eve?" She asks Anne.

"Actually, yes, we've been invited to go along with Harry on a yacht to… somewhere tropical…" She replies, lifting her shoulders and smiling with excitement.

"St. Barts." Harry adds with a mumble, his eyes and fingers suddenly infatuated with the toppings on his pizza.

"That sounds lovely! Who invited you?"

"Kris Jenner. And… Kendall will be there too, right Harry?" Anne asks.

She can just make out Harry's quick glance over in her direction, out of the corner of her own eye.

"Yeah." He replies.

Her chest begins to tighten a little. She knows who Kendall is, of course. She's beautiful, and famous, and is rumoured to have been dating Harry at one point. She isn't sure if that's totally accurate, but either way, she knows their families are close.

"Well… it sounds fun." She replies, giving her best attempt at a genuine smile as Harry glances more obviously towards her.

"Speaking of New Year's Eve, CJ…" Gemma states, catching the attention of the both of them. "Michal and I aren't going on that trip. We're thinking of going to a big bash with some other friends. Want to come?"

"Oh, umm… I was kind of planning to just bunker down at home, to be honest."

She notices a small smile appear on Harry's face, as if he's pleased she won't be mingling with others. As if he has the right to feel that way. There's the arrogance she's used to.

"You know… that guy you met… Nathan? I guess he's been asking about you." Michal states, and she could swear she hears Harry groan.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. Heard it through a friend of a friend. And he's going to be there…" Michal replies, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Just come with us. At the very least, you can hang out with us and won't be home alone at your house."

Gemma does make a good point. Cassidy's parents usually go out with their own friends, and of course her dad comes home extremely drunk. She could avoid those next few hours that he fumbles around the house yelling, and get home once he's asleep.

"Okay, okay. I'll go." She agrees.

Harry chuckles quietly and shakes his head, getting up from his spot to head to the kitchen. He's back to his normal, annoying self.

Everyone begins to chat among themselves, so Cassidy takes the pause in activities to use the restroom.

Before the door is closed completely, it stops, and is pulled back open for her to see Harry standing on the other side.

"What's your problem with me using the fucking toilet?" She asks, frustratedly.

He exhales a strong breath from his nose, his expression stern, causing her nerves to peek. She's astonished that her new reaction to him is so intensely physical.

His eyes flicker down to her lips, letting out another strong exhale, and sending a heat to her cheeks. He leans closer and she closes her eyes, not even thinking before preparing herself for a kiss.

"Oh god, is there a line for the toilet?" She hears from the hallway, and they both look over to see Gemma there with her hands on her hips. "I'll use the one upstairs!"

She walks away and Harry looks back at Cassidy.

"I have to use the toilet." She whispers, dropping her gaze to the ground.

He doesn't respond. Simply scoffs, stands up straighter, and walks off.

After doing her business, she opens the door back up, partially expecting Harry to be there waiting to continue their conversation. If it could be called that. But he wasn't there. She walks to the living to rejoin the group and sees Harry back in his spot on the couch, pressed up against the armrest he's been next to.

She sits down again, turning towards the television, as their next tradition begins. Watching 'Love Actually'.

An actual shiver runs over her skin and she looks around for an extra blanket, only to find that there are none left. She sighs softly, but looks to her side as she hears Harry clear his throat. She meets his gaze, now much more gentle, and he motions for her to share his. It's big enough to stretch across both of their laps, so she grabs the half that he offers and whispers a 'thank you' to him.

She turns back to the movie and feels a tug on the fabric. She looks back to Harry and notices him pulling the blanket gently back towards himself with a smile. Of course he wants it back. Playing a practical joke. Selfish prick. She frowns and begins to hand it over, but he shakes his head.

"Scoot over a bit if you need to." He whispers. She fails to hold back from biting her lower lip, and is unable to prevent the blush rushing to cover her face. She moves the minimal amount to stay undetected by others, and he readjusts the blanket to fully cover them both.

Just as she settles in, Harry scoots even further towards the armrest, putting the distance she had just removed back between them, but still allowing her some extra covering on her lap.

This guy is annoying and confusing and she hates it. At least everything else is comfortable. She's always felt that way there.

•••

The first thing Cassidy notices is the loud noises of laughter filling the room. The second, after multiple blinks of her eyelids, is an episode of Friends playing across from her. And then she senses a dark, sultry fragrance close by.

She turns her head to see Harry, his eyes fixated on the show, half of a smile across his face, and his green eyes glimmering from the reflection off of the television.

She's curled up into his chest, his arm is resting behind her, and his fingers are gently stroking her shoulder. Shocking herself, she realizes she likes it. Really likes it. And even debates pretending that she is still asleep so that she can enjoy it even more, even longer.

"You're staring." He mutters, eyes still directed away from her. Her breath leaves her body, as if completely knocked out of her. She doesn't even know how long she has been looking at him, not that she necessarily regrets it, but now that she is caught, she feels embarrassed. And vulnerable.

"Because you have pizza sauce on your face."

He doesn't.

"Well…" He finally turns to her, eyes regaining the lustful undertone that she's seen a few times before. "Are you gonna get it off?"

If it was actually there, yes. Yes, she would.

"You can pick how you do it…" He adds, his famous dimple sinking in deeply with the extreme smirk he's displaying.

"Do it yourself."

"That's not as much fun." His tongue runs along the inside of his mouth, and she realizes his fingers are still grazing her skin, maybe with a little more pressure now.

"You're obnoxious."

"Maybe. But you didn't seem to mind when you were cuddling me."

"I was asleep."

"You were playing with my hair." He licks his lips and his eyes quickly dart down to hers momentarily.

"Well…" She takes a deep breath. "I'll admit, just this once, that you do have good hair…"

He smirks, quickly peering down to her lips again, and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She tries to gulp down the lump in her throat, becoming less and less able to compose herself and keep her guard up around him. How did she stand her ground for so long, and why is it all of a sudden crumbling so easily, out of her control?

He suddenly straightens up, dropping his hand and pulling back his arm. She doesn't have to wait long to discover why, as she hears footsteps coming from the other room. She immediately scoots back from him and shoots her head towards the sound, seeing her best friend walk in from around the corner.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty!" She chuckles, looking over in Cassidy's direction, hopefully not seeing her fidgeting and accumulating a small amount of sweat on her forehead. "Are you gonna stay the night?"

"Oh. I… umm…" She quickly looks over to Harry, an unreadable expression across his face. It's not exactly helpful.

"You can take my room… if you want…" He suggests, letting her feel some relief from not having an answer. And then she feels flustered, like she has plenty of times with him, especially recently. Relief, flustered, and then very aware that Gemma is standing in the kitchen waiting for an answer.

"Thank you." She meets Gemma's mildly confused and curious gaze, bringing Cassidy back to the reality of what this situation is.

Gemma is her best friend, and Harry's sister. And Harry isn't just Harry. He is Harry Styles of One Direction. He has a busy and extravagant life. He most likely, and unfortunately, has girls across the globe. He is beautiful, and desirable. And she is just Cassidy. The girl he grew up with, who was always hanging around his house. The girl he bugged and pestered constantly. The girl he played mind games with by pretending to flirt with her, just to be annoying. And probably, also, just his hometown hookup.

"But… I think I should get home."

"Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow, and give you more details about that party."

For the second time since she's been there, Harry groans over the subject of her attending that New Year's Eve party.

Gemma walks out and Cassidy turns back to Harry. His gaze has dropped and his expression has turned down along with it.

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" He mutters, a sincere look in his eyes.

"I… yeah, I don't want my mum to worry." She sighs. She'll call it self-preservation, running home right now. Ironically, that's the one place she usually runs from.

"At least let me walk you back."

She nods, sitting there a few seconds longer to gaze at him, before getting up from the couch and gathering her belongings.

Harry helps her put on her coat, and does the same, then ushers her outside into the cold. This time, for Cassidy, the bite of the air isn't a relief like it was when she exited her own home.

"So… umm…" Harry starts as the begin to walk, his arms across his chest to keep himself warm, her own body doing the same thing. "You're, umm, working for POPSUGAR now, right?"

"Yeah. Junior writer." She simply replies. It's not exactly the biggest thing to brag about. Especially not to him. Plus, Gemma was a reference, so she's sure that helped her get the job.

"Is it local?" He asks quietly, turning to make eye contact.

"Umm… yeah. Well, I mean, I go to London a few times a month for meetings, but I mostly write from home."

She notices him pull his lips inward, seemingly to hide a smile, which he is failing at.

"That's awesome." He clears his throat. "I'll be 'round here for a bit, and a friend is planning a birthday party for me next month. Maybe… we can hang out sometime?"

Her heart skips a beat and her thoughts begin to race. This is so confusing, he is so confusing. She honestly never thought she'd be in this situation. She actually told herself she never would be. It's Harry, for crying out loud. But here she is, feeling a small flutter of butterflies in her stomach at his suggestion of seeing her again. But it's also complicated. Again, it's Harry. Enough said.

"Umm… maybe." That's about as good of an answer as she can give at the moment.

They reach the front door of her parent's house, and she turns her body to face his, her eyes only flickering up for a few seconds to catch a couple glimpses of him.

"Hm." He responds, picking at his lower lip. "Was kind of hoping for more than a maybe."

"I just don't know."

"Is it because of your New Year's Eve plans?"

"What? No. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, because you're going on a date."

"It's not a date. It's just a party. And why do you care? You're going on vacation with a supermodel…" Frustration begins to build.

"Our families are just spending time together. Plus, those plans were made before we-"

He points to her but goes silent, instantly dropping his hand. Her anxiety peaks and her eyes go wide. Would he not have gone if it wasn't already scheduled? Because of her? No. First of all, choosing her over Kendall fucking Jenner is a ridiculous thought. And besides, two hookups doesn't mean he's suddenly interested in her, at least not in any capacity that has more significance than sex. And if it does, it's probably not possible to indulge in. Gemma would probably flip! It would be too weird and she couldn't do that to her best friend. It keeps coming back to all of that. So as much as she may want to even entertain the idea, it's probably not a good one.

Even if she does want it to be more, he is Harry Styles. And that comes with so many implications and complications on its own. For fucks sake, she doesn't even know how he feels about her.

"Tell me why you don't want to." He interrupts her thoughts, catching her so off guard that she doesn't have a good enough answer for him.

"I don't know… I don't know what you want from me…"

"I just want to hang out!"

"Why?"

"Really? Are you-... Bloody hell, this is exhausting! Nevermind!" He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. His eyes snap up to hers and she's met with a deep, intense frown. "Have fun at the fucking party, Cass."

She turns away and grabs the door handle. A sigh comes from behind her so she swivels back around. Her own frown is met by his. "And have fun on your fucking vacation."

[ flashback - Jan 2016 ]

Sitting at the large table, waiting for the office meeting to start, someone takes the seat next to Cassidy with a beaming smile.

"What's going on?" She chuckles, looking down at the papers in her coworker Roxie's hands.

"I'm buzzing! I got assigned an amazing story to cover!" She exclaims, practically bouncing in her chair. "You're friends with Harry Styles, right?"

Her heart stops. Or is it racing? She's not even able to fully comprehend her reaction, because all she can focus on is what Roxie could possibly have written about.

"Sort of. Sure… why?"

The article is placed on the table, right in front of her. She tries to quickly skim it over, attempting to gather the important information, but her vision quickly becomes blurry. She doesn't need to read the entire article. The headline tells her everything she needs to know.

HARRY STYLES AND KENDALL JENNER GET COZY ON A YACHT

Series Masterlist

•••

If you like what I post, and want to just send some extra support, I have a ko-fi account. Even the smallest amount is greatly appreciated. There is no obligation or expectation to donate, because I am honestly just so grateful that you're here! 💗 Bee xx

•••

Overall Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @harryistheonlyoneforme @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @little-freak-satellite @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @thatbitch2828 @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @sushiabby @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @theroosterswife24 @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @qualitygiantshoepsychic @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @fool4him @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Another short, unfinished wip of Fracture AU.

This time during the rebuild. Julieta and Agustín ponder over their guilt as they try to connect with Mirabel.

Comments are always appreciated.

Warning, sensitive topics ahead.

~~~~~~

Sorrows, Guilt and Recovery

“‘Pa’,” Agustín says. “You use to call me ‘Pa’.”

It was a lunch break from working on rebuilding Casita and for better or worse, also the weekend, meaning the children were not at school and just running about the area.

All except Mirabel, of course.

And the children aren’t really running the full area because they refuse to get close to Mirabel. So do the adults, to be fair.

So they end up in a slightly quiet, but very isolated space and that allows more serious conversations to happen.

“I apologise for my younger self failing to grasp the full word,” is Mirabel’s response, monotone as ever.

“No, I wasn’t saying— I meant, it’s not a bad thing. You don’t have to apologise. You could say the full word easily, you just decided to use it as a nickname.”

Mirabel blinks.

“A nickname is—”

“I am familiar with the definition, Señor.”

Agustín is a little taken back.

He tries reaching for her hand (he’d rather hug her, yet he knows it’s better to stick to baby steps and Mirabel is still covered in wounds), but Mirabel has already moved with no warning; determined to keep the distance.

His hand falls limp back at his side.

“How has your hearing been?” He goes on to ask.

“Adequate.”

“That’s good, I think. It’s not hurting you, is it? Or does it feel funny or—”

There’s an argument further ahead and Agustín finds himself briefly distracted to realise it’s his older two daughters, squealing and squabbling beside a few holes in the dirt and a spade.

Mirabel is watching them too. With no reaction.

The contrast is so striking.

Isabela and Luisa are just so full of life. Loud, bright, warm and feeling.

Mirabel might as well be dead standing beside him.

Speaking of, she is on the move again, having spotted Abuelo passing by.

The family have been trying to keep them apart. Pedro himself respects why they don’t want him near her and tries to keep his distance. Mirabel hasn’t quite grasped why they are being separated, not to mention she only has a relationship with him; the others are just strangers to her.

It’s Félix who catches her this time. (He had been closer than Agustín was).

Quite literally. He walks by, grabs her wrist and changes direction with her having no choice but to follow, guiding her off to Dolores. He gently tells her ‘no’.

Agustín wants to apologise.

But how would he do that?

Ignoring the fact Mirabel wouldn’t analyse it normally.

Besides, it’s not him who took a weapon to a child.

An innocent child of six. Whom nobody defended. Aside from Isabela. And what did that get her? Nothing.

Yet… he still feels like he should.

~~~~~~

Most nights, Julieta ends up crying.

“He has broken her,” she’ll whisper miserably, against Agustín’s chest. “I see all of these parents every day, showering their child with affection. They are happy. And we’re just not… is it so much for me to want my daughter back?”

She keeps it all pent up through the day.

She needs to continue working; still be there for Isabela and Luisa; attempt to spark something in Mirabel. Her girls shouldn't have to be concerned over how their mother is feeling.

But she finds it harder and harder. The more she realises Mirabel’s not going to come back from this. The little girl she remembers is gone.

As much as they can blame Pedro, it is their fault too. They left Mirabel.

This was their doing.

This was her doing.

She made her daughter like this and she has no way of reversing it.

All she has now is guilt.

Isabela and Luisa, who both seem to think they are having more luck the adults, aren’t really. Julieta watches them with Mirabel and it’s no different to how she herself is or Agustín or anyone else. Mirabel could be talking to a tree and she wouldn’t be any different.

Of course, with the loss of the miracle means the healing food is gone and Mirabel isn’t healed.

Julieta does everything to try remove the scars.

She’d have Mirabel sit after dinner, while she carefully cleaned the wounds, and once dry, she’d apply a series of creams and ointments that would help.

She can’t tell if it is.

There’s just so many scars.

But it’s also the closest Mirabel allows her to get. The only physical touch she’s okay with.

“I love you,” Julieta says, once she has finished.

A flat “Thank you, Señora,” is all she gets back.

And she goes back to bed, curls up into Agustín’s arms and weeps. And the cycle repeats itself.

[nkirukaj]

Our Renaissance (7)

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing, Racially Degrading Language, 1920s Slang

Genre: ANGST (& Humor!)

Word Count: 2.3K

1935

She’d heard them. They kept her up at night. 

For the past two years, she’d been afraid to fall asleep. Every night it was the same dream. She had no desire to continue reliving her husband’s death on a loop. But it was in her dreams that she found a detail that she’d overlooked in that moment. She’d heard them. The sound of two men running away. Perhaps they’d heard her wails and realized their mistake, or perhaps it was no accident at all. This time she decided to sleep, she decided to relive that moment once more, for the sake of Alastor, herself, and justice.

She loved her babies, but she couldn’t look at them without thinking of her husband. They were four years old now, so they had no memories of their father, like she did. She envied them, envied the way that they could live without grief and act as if he’d never existed at all because to them he didn’t. Sure for a while afterward they cried when they couldn’t get their daddy to hold them, but those memories were quickly erased with ones where Mommy was the only one to call for. They could speak now, and they never called for their daddy.

But Vera did. When she lay awake at night silently screaming and sobbing. She’d become numb, only taking care of her children as a shell of her former self. Her body did what it needed, while her mind was long gone.

When he didn’t show up at the radio station, they asked and questioned her why, but quickly replaced his segment with someone white, which Vera thought that they were itching to do anyway. No departure speech, no announcements, nothing. Like the babies, it’s as if he never existed to them at all.

The worst part of it? Lying to May. 

She’d gotten used to her son’s frequent visits and after a few weeks of not hearing from him on the phone or having him visit in person, she’d come over to see him. Vera had told her that he wasn’t there and when she’d asked where he was Vera had a choice to make. Either tell his mother that her son is dead and then have to explain how and why that happened, thereby sullying her view of her baby forever, or lie and say that he just left them, leaving his mother to wonder for the rest of her life what had gone wrong and why he would ever do that. May knew how much he loved his wife, so it would never make sense to her that he would leave her, but that was better than her knowing that her son was a killer.

“May,” she spoke flatly, “I think a visit to their grandmother is quite overdue,”

“Of course!” She reaches out for the children “Come here babies!” They waddle over to her, hugging her legs. 

“Take care of them May,” Vera speaks over her shoulder “They deserve it.”

“Of course,” she said with a confused look in her eye “Hey Vera,” she called after the younger mother

Vera turns to acknowledge her

“He will come back, I know my son. He would never just abandon you,”

Vera gives her a small smile “Thank you for your hope, May. I just want you to know that I think that you’re a brilliant mother and a phenomenal woman all around,”

May gives her a humble smile before waving her goodbye and going inside with the children. 

Vera had spent the past two years looking for those men. Those men that killed her husband and then fled like cowards. To be honest, she had nothing and no one to go off of other than the men who frequented this hunting ground, and there were many. It was a quite popular spot for hunting. So she began hunting herself. Some found it odd to see her there day in and day out and did not cease commenting on it, but this was important to her. Though every day, she scouted and spoke to each man who hunted alongside her, they never felt right. They never felt like Alastor’s murderers, and then it hit her. The piece that she had been missing this whole time. 

Alastor was killed at night.

All along she had been looking in the right place but at the wrong time.

The next night she stalked the hunting grounds thoroughly and quietly finding only two men around that time. Would it have been more ideal to have evidence? Yes. However, her gut told her she’d found the men, and at that point, that was enough for her.

She took her time dropping her gun and herself, making as much noise as possible as she fell. They came running over and asked what she was doing and if she was all right. She came up with a story about learning how to hunt, but being too embarrassed to hunt during the day.

“Are you Vera Bates? Well, it’s an honor to meet you! Shouldn’t your husband be out here helping you? What kind of man would let his wife out like this at night,”

She begins stroking the gun “Unfortunately I do not have a husband to teach me. I’m a widow,” she bats her lashes “Would you two like to come over and show me some tips?”

He smirks “Well of course,”

These men were insufferable. They were loud, crass, and even though she made it seem like she wanted something sexual, their comments were lewd and crude.

“And like a year or two ago, we was hunting out in the dark, like usual and I’m pretty sure we killed a man!”

Vera’s eyes and ears perked up “Oh?”

“Got right between the eyes,”

His partner laughed “I was just surprised by his good aim!”

“I was like damn! If only that was an animal!”

“He was!” they begin cackling

Vera turns to the quieter one “What do you mean by that?”

He settles down “Well, I’m sure he was colored, but he doesn’t believe me,” he points to his louder friend

“Now, why would a colored man be outside that time of night? That’s just dumb if he was!”

The blood in Vera’s skull boiled, and her skin turned physically hot. She slaps the table and stands

“If you’d like, I could refresh your beers for you,” she says with a smile

“Well thank you, doll!” he and his comrades cackle with drunkenness, slapping her ass as she walks past.

Once she arrives in the kitchen, she removes two more beers from the fridge and pops them open, staring out the window behind the sink. She opens the kitchen drawer and places a knife on the counter. Alastor’s voice rang in her ears.

I would kill for you. I would die for you

And I for you, my love she thought, entering the kitchen drawer and gripping her meat mallet. Her grip loosens for a moment when she thinks of her babies. So young, soft, and innocent. 

They don’t deserve a killer for a mother.

She grabs the meat mallet tight and rejoins the men in the room.

“How long does it take to refresh a beer, honey?” He yells then begins laughing with his partner “Women, am I right?” they cackle

Then suddenly half the laughter stops as his partner falls to the floor unconscious. The man drunkenly looks up “Huh?” the last thing he sees is Vera raising the meat mallet over her head, and swings, ready to tenderize.

When they awaken they’re back at the hunting grounds, but they’re tied up and they each have concussions.

“Woo!” Vera says, walking into their line of sight “You two are heavy! It took me about an hour each to drag y’all out here! Lucky for me you’re both blockheads and stayed knocked out”

“What’s going on??” Vera shrugs “Well, I’ll be honest. You’re both going to die tonight,” The men’s squirming became much more intense and they flopped their bodies all around “So remember that ‘colored’ man you bragged about accidentally shooting?” She plays with the knife in her hands “How do you know who I am,” she paces in front of them “But don’t know enough to know” She stops as they squirm in their restraints “That he was my husband?” She grins maniacally 

“You said you didn’t have a husband!”

“I also said I was a widow! And that’s because of YOU!” She pulls out her knife and drags it across the palm of her glove “So now I’m going to kill you,”

“You’re a crazy bitch!” he spits out

She nods “Yes.” she walks over to him “But that’s your fault. For not having better aim. You killed my husband and you made me crazy.” She steps on his dick, hearing it crunch underneath her boot. He screams out in pain. “So here’s what’s going to happen okay?” she points to herself with the knife “This little Sheba is going to make you suffer. And then kill you like you killed my husband. By ‘accident’” She uses quotes, before plunging the knife into the man’s leg, twisting it in deep, and dragging it down as he bellows in agony. She’s indifferent to his screams before shoving dirt and a rock into his mouth.

“God shut up.” She spits in annoyance, moving over and doing the same to his silent partner “Today my husband would have been 35,” she stabs them both in the stomach, then the eyes, then in both of their hands. “I wonder if you’ll meet us, down in Hell,” she says before taking her gun out and shooting them both in the head.

Afterward, Vera goes home and takes a bath, burns her clothes, and gets dressed in her finest gown.

“Hello?” She asks the police on the telephone “Yes, this is Vera Bates and I’d like to report a murder,”

When they arrive she opens the door, gun in hand, and waves it at the police.

“Drop your weapon!’ The policemen call out, but she doesn’t. Instead, Vera cracks a smirk and raises her middle fingers on both hands.

“Shoot me!” she cackles before a bullet hits her right in the chest, and everything goes black.

When she wakes up, everything is red. The sky, the ground, and the buildings. Looked an awful lot like a city. Something like Brooklyn. When she looks down at herself in a puddle, she sees that she now has short red hair, and brow deer ears on top of her head. White deer spots all over her face, and was covered in freckles. Surprisingly, she was unsurprised. She wandered around for weeks before ending up in the right place. The right place, to hear…A voice on the radio.

First, there was a scream of bloody murder that went on for about 2 minutes when it finished, there was a voice that spoke.

“This has been brought to you by ‘The Radio Demon’. Well hello, you wayward sinners, that was another reminder of who I am. I may be new to Hell but certainly do not cross me.”

Vera knew that accent anywhere, it may have been phony, but it was distinctly him.

“Excuse me, where is the radio station? I need to find the Radio Demon,”

“You must be one crazy bitch,

“Yes,”

Finding the station was the easy part, but working up the courage is go inside was hard. What would he think of her? Would he remember her? Would he even be happy to know that she’s there? Would he recognize her? All those thoughts running through her head, when the door to the station opened, and a 7ft tall demon with deer ears part of his red, fading to black hair and antlers on top of his head, a red coat and shirt with black pants exited. She didn’t know what she expected to see, she supposed she expected him to look the same, though she didn’t, why would he? 

One thing about him that was striking, was a bright yellow smile at the bottom of his face. He almost ran into her and she felt the annoyance through his eyes, but his smile never faltered.

“Can I help you?” he asked, so no he didn’t recognize her

“Alastor,” she said very breathy-like, his name was all she could get out.

“Yes?” 

She stares up at him through her lashes, tears threatening her composure “You killed for me, you would die for me,”

His eyes soften behind his red-tinted monocle, he reaches up and caresses her face “Vera?”

She nods and tears begin to fall from her eyes. he puts his hands on her shoulders

“What about the twins?”

“I left them with your mother,

He nods, understanding “They’ll turn out much better than I did,”

They stand quietly staring at each other, hands lightly brushing over each other’s skin, as if each of them could not believe that the other was real, here, and in front of them. Vera breaks the silence.

“You broke your promise,” she told him as he held her in his arms

“I know. I hope you will forgive me ma chérie.”

“Never leave me again,”

“Down here, that is a promise I can keep.”

“Then I forgive you.”

“‘Til death do us part,”

“And even after that,”

Epilogue

“I just think it’s something interesting to think about.”

“Well my dear, I like to think we’d end up down here, together. No matter what”

Voe turns her head to look at her partner, knowing deep down in her bones that he was right. That in every universe and every timeline, whether it be New York City, New Orleans, or even manmade; this destiny was written in the stars for them. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

THE END

[bun-z-bakery]

My contribution for vanweek :3

@vanweek2024 Day 3: Time Travel Au

"Bound By Tragedy"

Vanessa sat in the old booth, lost in the performance of the animatronics she adored as a kid. This was a usual routine for her. Make sure everything at Freddy's is “decent” and spend time with the children trapped inside the robots that once brought the place to life. 

As much as she tries to suppress it, the guilt runs skin deep, eating away at her every single day. Even if it wasn't her fault, it still haunts her, plaguing her mind with ways she could've stopped this. How could she have known? 

How could she have stopped the tragedy that would've been caused by the same person who was supposed to protect her? 

The past can't be changed, everything is set in stone, as her father would say. 

Once the performance was over, Vanessa stood and applauded the performers. However, something was wrong. She quickly noticed someone was missing. Foxy. 

She walks over to the main stage and points to Pirates Cove.

“All right, where's Foxy?”

She jokingly asks. The animatronics were known to pull pranks from time to time. Unfortunately, they must've been too distracted by their jam session to have noticed the foxy sneaking off. They shake their heads or shrug in response. 

“Let's go find our pirate!” 

Vanessa claps her hands and runs off. The animatronics follow her lead and search for their missing bandmate. 

The sound of speaking made her freeze in place. 

“Just a rat…”

A tiny rodent runs past her feet, making her cringe at the thought of having to handle it. 

She sighs before she continues the search. 

“Foxyyy? Ya here, captain?”

She calls out again as she makes her way through the grave of filthy arcade machines until she finds herself standing in front of the ball pit. 

She sighs before turning around, only to be greeted face-to-face with Foxy himself. 

Vanessa let out a shriek before she fell backwards into the ball pit. An odd sensation washed over her as the sound of heavy metal footsteps began to fade away. Something didn't feel right… 

Vanessa takes a moment before shooting up from the ball pit hoping to scare the fox back. She yelled as she made claws with her hands, fully expecting to see Foxy standing in front of her only to be greeted by... People? 

The bright lights, the kids, the busy restaurant, was this some sort of dream? 

She slowly exits the ball pit and cautiously examines her surroundings. It all feels real, it smells real… this can't be real, right? 

She walks around the lively restaurant, taking it all in. This is how it should've been, a happy place full of laughter and smiles as intended.

“Ow!”

A little girl yelped as she fell to the ground upon bumping into Vanessa. She quickly bends down and offers her hand to the little girl on the verge of tears. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry kiddo! Here, let me help…”

 The little girl looked up at her, making Vanessa freeze in place. It was her. That little girl WAS HER. 

She took Vanessa's hand and rose to her feet. 

“You ok kiddo?” 

Vanessa wistfully asked her younger self. She wasn't referring to the harmless collision. She knew exactly what today was. The clothes she wore served as a dead giveaway; today was her birthday and the day that her father ruined it all. 

Her younger self nods in response.

“I was told that a certain someone's birthday is today! Is that true?”

Vanessa smiles as she crouches down to meet her gaze. Her younger self nodded, she knew she was getting anxious. She figured it would be best not to keep her for long. 

“Take this”

Vanessa reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a rusted Freddy's security badge she kept from her time at the restaurant, handing it to her younger self. 

The girl's eyes practically light up, she hugs Vanessa before running off to the table where her friends sat. 

Vanessa smiles at the sight, seeing all of them together again. 

However, the moment didn't last long. He appeared, the yellow rabbit… Her father. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she watched him from a distance.

“Let's play a game!”

The yellow rabbit announced to the children at the table. 

She instantly knew where this was going. 

“Hide and seek!”

He covered his eyes as he began to count. The children ran and hid wherever they could. But her father never plays fair. Once he was done counting, he pretended to search for the kids as if he wasn't peaking through his fingers to make sure he knew where they all went. 

What a sick trick her mind was playing. The guilt finally took a toll and manifested into some surreal night terror. But surely they can be controlled too, right? She could give herself a happy ending, even if it meant nothing once she finally woke up. 

Vanessa makes her way to the boy closest to her 

“Hey! Your mom is looking for you!”

She points back, but the boy shushes her. He was watching, she could practically feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. 

“Come one, let's go find her!”

Vanessa gently takes his hand and leads him to his mother where he will be safe. Just as she was about to reach her, she noticed the yellow rabbit with a kid heading to the staff room. 

Her blood ran cold, and she reacted as quickly as she could. She sprinted toward them before he could shut the door.

“Wait!”

The yellow rabbit whipped his head around, staring down at Vanessa as he held the boy's hand. 

“Is there a problem, miss?”

The yellow rabbit spoke, not breaking his cheerful facade, but there was a tiny hint of irritation. 

“His parents are looking for–”

“Do you know this woman?”

He looked down at the boy, Vanessa gave a little nod to the kid. Unfortunately, he didn't get the hint.

“No… I don't know her.”

The boy shrugged, giving the man in the suit the confirmation he needed. Vanessa felt as if she was about to lose it. A mixture of fear and rage started to boil inside of her. 

“Miss, this is staff only, and our little guest here is waiting for his prize!”

“NO WAIT!!”

He closes the door before Vanessa can grab the boy. She failed… she couldn't protect him. 

She ran back to the main area, frantically searching for her younger self. 

“Vanessa!”

She runs to the girl and hugs her tightly as tears stream down her face. 

“Listen to me.”

Vanessa began as she broke the hug.

“There are some things you may not understand now, and I'm sorry I couldn't stop it… maybe in another life, everything would've been different.”

Her voice breaks as she stands to walk away from her younger self. A large yellow hand grabs Vanessa's arm and drags her to the back of the restaurant. She struggles in his grasp. 

His other hand covers her mouth just as she's about to scream. 

“Now what the hell do you think you're doing?”

He asked in a condescending tone as she continued to struggle.

“I don't know who you are, but you are NOT welcome here anymore.”

He opened the door to the staff room. Before he could drag her in, Vanessa was able to quickly free her arm and elbow her father, triggering one of the spring locks to go off. 

She ran from him as he called out for security and another staff member to assist him. 

She ran as fast as she could, not caring about the strange looks the staff or parents gave her as she threw herself into the ball pit in hopes of ending this nightmare. 

Slowly she began to regain consciousness. She stands in the ball pit and lets out a sigh of relief as she finds herself back at the abandoned pizzeria, surrounded by the worried animatronics. 

She hated those nightmares... 

The years came and went, and Vanessa found herself at the abandoned Freddy's once again. This time it wasn't to help clean up her father's mess. But rather to watch the animatronics perform like they did when she was a kid. 

Vanessa pulls out the rusted security badge she received on the day of her birthday. She smiles at it as she remembers the odd woman who gifted it to her. That was the only happy event of that day...

The band finishes their number and Vanessa puts away the badge as she stands in the old booth to clap. She pauses and walks over to the main stage, pointing to Pirates Cove.

“All right, where's Foxy?”

[adrienneleclerc]

could u do an imagine for xavier based off the song i love you by billie eilish where it’s angsty but with a fluff ending?

I most certainly can! I love getting requests, makes me feel like a real Tumblr fanfic writer. Just forewarning you, I did not understand the song at all, I listened to it, I read the lyrics, I had to look at someone’s else note on the lyrics, have zero clue what I’m working with

I Love You

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: Xavier tells Y/N he loves her but she doesn’t say it back and asks for a break. Xavier doesn’t know why.

Warning: errors because I don’t proofread til it’s posted, me self projecting, some thoughts that go through my head for some reason, I guess ED but not really.

Y/N is a person who is very much has her guard up. When she was younger, she was bullied for not looking like the other girls so whenever someone was nice to her, she proceeded with caution. Not to mention her own mother commenting on her weight whenever she was eating, trying on clothes, sometimes her mom would look a at old pictures of her and say ‘look how skinny you were’ and would even text her old pictures of herself and say ‘you looked so pretty, try to lose weight’ (yeah…that’s my mom, everyone). Years of receiving mean comments from her classmates and her own mother made her think she did not deserve a happy ending, didn’t deserve to be loved. She is very insecure, has self image issues, it’s a whole thing. However, with Xavier, she let her guard down, all those voices she has in her head suddenly go mute when he’s around, everything was going well. She likes the way things are. Xavier and Y/N were in the Weathervane.

“Y/N, you already had three brownies,” Xavier said,

“Then can i get one more brownie to make it even?” Y/N asked with her puppy dog eyes, she’s comfortable eating with him. Xavier looked away but then looked back and Y/N also added a pout.

“Anything for you.” Xavier said, kissing her cheek, and going to the counter to buy another brownie. Xavier came back. “Here you go, sweetheart, all warmed up.”

“Thank you, Flaquito.” Y/N said, kissing cheek. “Now what did you and Ajax do again? I still don’t understand how you guys could stone the principal.”

“It was an accident! The principal didn’t know that Ajax was a gorgon and they reached over and took his beanie off, I covered my eyes, the principal got turned to stone. Besides, he shouldn’t try to take someone’s hat away without asking ‘why are you wearing a hat’ so that is their fault completely.” Xavier said.

“Alright, fine, i believe you.” Y/N said. They talked some more, then took an Uber back to Nevermore, and now they are in Xavier’s art shed. “Why did you bring me here? Are you going to kill me or are you trying to kidnap me?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Those are the two conclusions you came up with? Damn, sweetheart, you’re slipping.” Xavier.

“Haha, pero de verdad, why am i here?” Y/N asked.

“I wanted to show you something, hold on.” Xavier said as he pulled out a big canvas underneath a white tarp. When he unveiled it, it was a portrait of Y/N. Since Y/N has the power of botanokinesis, she can control plant life, Xavier painted Y/N surrounded by plants and with flowers in her hair.

“Flaquito, this is so beautiful, thank you.” Y/N said, hugging Xavier.

“I know we’ve only been dating three months but…I love you.” Xavier said. Y/N’s heart dropped. She backed away from Xavier.

“You’re kidding, right?” Y/N asked awkwardly.

“Kidding? No, Y/N, my feelings for you are real, i love you.” Xavier said, walking towards Y/N but she out her hands up in defense and back up.

“Xavier, you can’t love me, it’s only been 3 months, not even 6 months, not even a whole year.” Y/N said.

“Love isn’t a timing thing, it’s just what you feel and I feel great when I’m with you, you make me feel safe, you feel like home, I love you, Y/N.” Xavier said,

“Can you please stop saying you love me?” Y/N asked exasperated. She looked at Xavier and he had tears in his eyes.

“You don’t love me, is that it? You want to break up?” Xavier asked through tears.

“I don’t think you understand something, you can’t love me.” Y/N said.

“You don’t understand, you can’t tell me what my feelings are for you, why can’t you just accept the fact that I love you.” Xavier said.

“Oh my gosh, please stop saying that. I like that you painted me as Persephone, that’s how you see me, cool, I accept that, but I’m not Persephone, I am not good for you.” Y/N said,

“I think that’s for me to decided. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re good for me.” Xavier said.

“I think we need a break, Xavier, just to think things over, so I can think things over.” Y/N said. Xavier gave Y/N a weak smile and left the shed, slamming the door. Y/N began to cry. She loved him, but she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t deserve it. It’s amazing how Xavier could see her as Persephone when she doesn’t see herself like that at all.

She was on the couch, crying, thinking about how sad she made Xavier, that made her cry even more. He didn’t need Y/N to burden him with her problems, but she also didn’t want him to think she doesn’t care about him. After a few more minutes, she went back to her dorm she shared with Enid and Wednesday.

“Hey Y/N, wait, why are you crying, what’s wrong?” Enid asked her, immediately getting off the bed to comfort her friend.

“Mm Nothing, Xavier told me he loved me and I said I needed a break, so here I am.” Y/N said as she was wiping her tears.

“You really liked him, Y/N, why did you decide to have a break?” Enid asked.

“Enid, It’s clearly a personal decision to Y/N, she doesn’t need to tell why she wanted a break, it was up to her, she did it, leave it be.” Wednesday defended Y/N.

“Thank you, Wednesday.” Y/N said. She went to the bathroom to do her business, brush her teeth, wash her face and change into her pajamas. She walked out and went to bed. However the events of today replayed in her mind and she hated it so much.

The next day, she did her morning routine and went to the quad for breakfast in her uniform. Out if everything, Y/N just grabbed a banana.

“You’re not going to eat anything else, mama?” Ajax asked.

“Just the banana, papito, I’m not very hungry.” Y/N said, gotta make up for eating four brownies yesterday, she thought.

“Okay, just checking.” Ajax said and walked away to sit next to Xavier,

“Did you notice anything weird?” Xavier asked immediately after Ajax sat down.

“I just saw her grab a banana for breakfast, that’s it.” Ajax informed him. “I’ll ask Enid if she knows anything if that helps.”

“Yes that would help, thank you.” Xavier said. He was looking at Y/N’s table. He didn’t take his eyes off her until the bell rang. As everyone was leaving the quad, Ajax went to talk to Enid.

“How’s Y/N doing by the way?” Ajax asked.

“She was crying yesterday because of Xavier, but she hasn’t told me anything about why she asked for a break. She really liked him, I don’t understand what could have happened, she was so happy to go to the weathervane with him.” Enid commented.

“It’s a mystery, Xavier is also curious about what changed. Maybe it’s a shapeshifter that looks like Y/N and the real Y/N is trapped somewhere!” Ajax exclaimed.

“Are you stoned?” Enid asked,

“Of course not, it’s too early. I’m gonna sit with Xavier today.” Ajax said,

“And I’ll sit with Y/N.” Enid said. They went to their classes and as promised, she sat next to Y/N in all the classes until school was over. During lunch, she noticed that Y/N only ate a salad and nothing else. Which is fine, nothing against it, but she chose a salad over her favorite food. Enid was starting to get worried. “Wednesday, you like observing people, have you noticed anything strange happening with Y/N?” Enid asked.

“Not really, just looks like her habits have increased.” Wednesday commented.

“What do you mean about that?” Enid asked.

“At lunch, she only eats half her food and saves the rest for later, right now, she’s eating half and throwing the rest out, meaning she doesn’t intend on eating later anytime soon.” Wednesday said.

“Thanks, Wednesday.” Enid thanked the goth girl. She was about to talk to Y/N when Xavier approached her.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Xavier said. Y/N agreed and went to the woods with Xavier. As they were walking, Y/N tried making wildflowers grow in the grass, she succeeded and that brought a smile to her face. “Why did you ask for a break?” Xavier asked and Y/N stopped playing with her powers.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Why did you ask for a break?” Xavier repeated.

“Xavier, i love you, i really do, but im not emotionally stable for you, don’t you see? The longer you’re with me, the more you are going to see how broken I truly am. I don’t love myself, I can barely believe that you love me, what I see in the mirror is nothing like what you painted, there are going to be moments where I would restrict myself to much that I will go to bed starving because the last meal I ate was at 3pm (which does happen to me often), I don’t want you to regret being with me. As the months this go on, you’ll see how much of a burden I am after you have to reassure me time and time again that you only love me, and you’re going to resent me because I’d be holding you back. I don’t want you to resent me, okay?” Y/N explained, at this point she was full on crying so Xavier went closer to her and pulled her in a hug. That’s when she let out a sob. Xavier’s eyes started to water, he started letting Y/N’s hair, trying to soothe her. After her sobbing has calmed down, Xavier pulled her away and lifted her chin up with his finger so he could see her face.

“You are not a burden, okay. As for the self love part, we will work on that together. I’ll be with you no matter what, I won’t resent you, if you see that I’m unhappy, although I doubt that I would be unhappy by your side, talk to me about it and break it off. If you feel like you’re broken, we’ll put the pieces back together. I would never regret being with you, you just need to talk to me about all these doubts you’re having. When did it start? How long have you been feeling like this?” Xavier asked, wiping away her tears.

“It started since I was younger, you know how ethic moms are, they always have something to say about your weight. My mom still makes comment about my weight, then there’s the elementary school bullies, so I always felt like this.” Y/N said with glassy eyes.

“You never told me that before. You have been carrying that around for years, have you?” Xavier asked. Y/N nodded, holding back a sob with teary eyes.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone but it feels so good to let it out.” Y/N said.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, okay. We will work on your self esteem, you will learn to love yourself, we will do this together.” Xavier said. Y/N nodded and hugged him. “We won’t date until you’re ready, okay.”

“Thank you, i need that.” Y/N said.

“Anything for you.” Xavier said, kissing the top of her forehead.

The End

Don’t know how to feel about this. I will admit I cried a little since I’m technically writing about my own experiences, it came out a little short but hope you liked it though!

[multistanisms]

Crisis of Love || Ateez

FANDOM: Ateez PAIRING: Yeosang/San, Hongjoong/Seonghwa/Wooyoung, Yunho/Mingi WORD COUNT: 5102 RATING: M POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Descriptions of torture, mentions of blood and violence, implied self harm SUMMARY: After three years of watching two of his best friends dance around their obvious affections for each other, Wooyoung is going to need the help of all of the Horizon Boys and some close friends to get the words spoken between Yeosang and San. However, plans go on hold when one of their own goes missing. TAGLIST: @ashxx0707

♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦♢♦

Years of watching two of his closest friends dance around their emotions for each other had worn Wooyoung down. Unable to spend another year watching the pair, he sat on the veranda of his family's home, staring out at the large garden, plotting how to give the push that Yeosang and San needed.

"Wooyoung, don't think too hard. You'll give yourself a headache." 

The voice is gentle, but it snaps the young man out of his thoughts, startling. Blonde hair sways just the slightest as he turns and lays eyes on a pink haired boy walking towards him. "Yeonjun!" He half squeals, hopping up and rushing to go hug his friend. "When did your family get in? We didn't know you were coming."

"I didn't either." Yeonjun answered, laughing as he hugged the other male. "We left last night, arrived this morning. Something important, no doubt." He moved to start towards the table. "So do tell, what is it that has you so keen on giving yourself a migraine, hm?"

"Planning." Wooyoung said defiantly, moving to sit across from Yeonjun and picking up his cup to sip from the cup. 

"That can't be good. Do Yeosang and Hongjoong know?" 

"Excuse you, asshat, I don't need permission every time I put schemes together." Wooyoung counters sassily, watching as Yeonjun pours a glass of lemonade from the pitcher and settles into a chair across from him.

"Not every time, but whether you do or not depends on the circumstances." Yeonjun arches a brow at Wooyoung as he sips at his glass, earning a huff as Wooyoung leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

"I need to get Yeosang and San to get their feelings out." Wooyoung groaned. “It’s not like everyone else doesn’t already see it.” 

"You mean they're actually that oblivious?" Yeonjun asked, clearly surprised. 

"Only with each other." Wooyoung barks out a laugh at the words, head falling back a little as he does so. "Most everything else they're really keen on."

"No kidding." Yeonjun laughed as well, shaking his head. "So what ideas do you have so far?"

"That's just it, I have exactly nothing." 

"Well, now. That’s a change. Maybe you should talk to Hongjoong or Seonghwa?" 

"Joong and Hwa don’t need to get involved in this, Yeonny. They have enough going on right now with keeping on top of things for our parents."

"Did someone say my name?" A voice asked, and the two turned to lay eyes on Seonghwa, black hair framing his face as he leaned against the doorway. Tall frame accented by dark jeans and a near skin tight white t-shirt. "What are you up to, Jung Wooyoung?" 

“Nothing, Hwa.” Wooyoung replies at the exact same time Yeonjun opens his mouth. 

“Our favorite chaos boy here is trying to get Yeosang and San to admit they-”

“Are ridiculously in love with each other?” Seonghwa finishes with a knowing smirk, moving to take a seat between the younger men, one leg crossing daintily over the other as he reaches to turn over one of the cups and pour himself a cup of the lemonade as well. "Are you tired of watching them be a mix of happy and miserable, too?"

"They are so terrible at reading each other." Yeonjun laughed with a shake of his head, leaning back. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Hongjoong suggested we try a setup of sorts." Seonghwa mused, dropping a sugar cube into the tea.

“Hongjoong is on board with my scheming without supervision?”

“Only in this instance, Wooyoung.” Seonghwa countered with an arched brow.

“And it isn’t like you won’t have any supervision.” Yeonjun countered. “I’m sure everyone is going to be on board with this. It’s only been what, two years?”

“Three, at the very least on San’s part. That’s the first time he slipped.” Wooyoung answered. “So…a setup? How do we manage that?”

“What about at one of the gatherings? We never stay for the full event, anyway.” Yeonjun mused. 

“We stay longer than you, normally.” Wooyoung teased. “You run off with Changbin as soon as you lay eyes on him.” The blush that rushes up his friend’s face makes him smirk. 

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t find the chance to sneak off with someone if they could-”

“Boys, enough, or I will ground you both.” Seonghwa’s tone is authoritative as he lifts his glass again, eyes leveled on the pair. Both of the younger males quiet their banter, looking away like scolded children and he nods, satisfied they’re both back on track. “Our purpose is to bring the two of them together, we can’t do that if you two are just going to bicker like a married couple the entire time.”

“That’s what they do best, of course.” 

Three heads turn at the sudden voice to find Hongjoong coming out to join them on the veranda, looking worse for wear and clearly exhausted.  

“Hongjoong…” Yeonjun and Wooyoung speak at the same time, looking between each other, then to Seonghwa and finally Hongjoong with concern. The future leader makes his way to the table, pulling out the chair between Yeonjun and Seonghwa before all but collapsing into it. 

“You need rest.” Seonghwa urges, one hand moving to rest at the younger’s shoulder. 

“I need time with my people.” Hongjoong counters. “Rest can come later.” Despite his words, though, he leans until his body is resting gently against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Hello, Yeonjun. I wasn’t aware your family would be here.”

Yeonjun shrugged. “I’m used to never knowing what plans my mother makes until I’m ordered to do something,” he replied. “You look like shit, though.”

Hongjoong manages to smirk as he scoffs out a laugh. “You should see the other guy. He’s much worse off, I promise.” he sassed, forcing himself up from Seonghwa’s shoulder to look at the three men. “What are we discussing, exactly?”

“Yeosang and San.” Seonghwa is the first to answer, keeping an eye on Hongjoong.

“Ah, the oblivious lovebirds.” Hongjoong chuckles, tone almost singsong, as he leaned forward to get the final cup, stopping when he finds Wooyoung has poured a fresh glass and is handing it to him so he doesn’t have to move as much. “Thank you, Wooyoung.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’d honestly rather you rest a little. You look like you had a hell of a fight, after all. But you’re too stubborn, so I’ll settle with you not moving a whole lot.”

“Good boy.” Hongjoong praises, and if he notices the tint rising up Wooyoung’s neck, he doesn’t mention it. “Our next gathering is in a few weeks, we have some time to figure something out if we want to do it then.” He sips his drink and it lowers it from his lips when a commotion from within the manor makes all four of them turn. “What on earth?” As the words leave his mouth, a pair of servants rush out onto the veranda, anxiously looking around. The female of the pair gives a clear sigh of relief before rushing back inside, shoes clicking on the marble of the den area. The young man who had accompanied her seems to be taking note of the four before turning to follow. Hongjoong stops the male with a simple ‘stop’, the man turning back to face the table.

“Yes, Master Hongjoong?”

“What is going on, Taehui?” Hongjoong asks, dark eyes never leaving the other male. 

“We’re not entirely sure as of yet, sir.” the servant, Taehui replies. “Young Master Wooyoung’s father received news there was a kidnapping, and his first order was for us to check how many of you were here so we could report back.” He’s honest and obviously uncertain of what to do in the situation, his eyes unable to lift from the ground. The previously relaxed atmosphere of the table has changed drastically in a few moments time, and he’s clearly uncomfortable giving bad news to the group.

“Kidnapping? Of one of ours?” Seonghwa frowns, eyes immediately finding Hongjoong’s, and the pair have a moment before the elder stands and walks out towards the garden. “I’ll start making calls.”

“Thank you, Taehui. We’ll be inside shortly. Go report to my dad, okay?” Wooyoung dismissed the male, waiting until they were alone again before speaking. “What do you need me to do, Joong?”

“Call your brother and Mingi. Mingi’s supposed to be arriving soon, but we have to be sure. Seonghwa is already calling for follow ups as well.”

“I’ll find my mother. She should have some intel and I can gather my boys to start a search party if need be.” Yeonjun replies, standing. “All of you stay safe, and keep us updated.”

“Keep your heads level, Yeonny.” Wooyoung replies, giving a worried smile as his friend lays a hand on his shoulder before heading inside. His eyes are focused on the commotion he can hear inside, one hand tightening on the tablecloth. This is par for the course - they’re children of powerful mafia families, after all - but no one has ever been stupid enough to try and kidnap any of them. The worry for his pseudo brothers courses through him and has him frozen as his mind starts to reel with possible scenarios.

“Wooyoung-ah.” 

Dark eyes blink as Wooyoung tears his gaze from the doors to look at his leader, returning to the moment in front of him. “Sorry, Joong, this is just…new territory. No one’s ever tried to kidnap any of us before.” He’s working on dialing Yunho’s number as he speaks, moving to stand.

“Right now, all I care about is that it isn’t one of the eight of us. Once we know that, I’ll worry about what needs to happen.” Hongjoong replied, and while his demeanor is calm, Wooyoung knows the leader’s mannerisms well enough to hear the mixed emotions behind the words. The younger male is loath to leave Hongjoong alone, but forces himself to step aside as the phone rings, silently begging the phone to pick up.

“San and Jongho are fine. They stopped to get some things, but they’re on their way again, no more stops.” Seonghwa says as he walks back, though his eyes are on his phone as he dials again.

“Yeosang?”

“I’ve tried him twice, but no answer.” Seonghwa is already hanging up and preparing to dial again when Hongjoong lifts a hand. 

“I’ll call him. Go check on Wooyoung, he’s trying to call Mingi and Yunho.” Hongjoong commands, scrolling to dial Yeosang’s number. His eyes stay on Seonghwa as the eldest checks in with Wooyoung, free hand clenching hard enough that his mind vaguely registers the pain of his nails digging into his palm. If any of his brothers have been taken, he isn’t going to just stand aside. He’ll bring the wrath of hell itself on whoever was stupid enough.

“Hongjoong? Who’s hurt?”

The deep timbre sends a wave of relief through Hongjoong despite the urgency in the man’s tone when Yeosang answers. The younger had clearly been dozed off, which explains the initial missed calls. He lets out a breath, which only further alerts the man on the other end. He and Seonghwa don’t continuously call like this, and there’s no doubt it’s put the black haired male on high alert.

“Captain?” Yeosang asks again, worry much more prominent in his voice now.

“We don’t know if anyone is hurt yet. There was apparently news of a kidnapping and the staff here are losing their minds.” Hongjoong answers. “San is okay.” he adds when he hears the sharp intake of breath, knowing the next question that’s about to come from Yeosang’s mouth and beating him to the punch. “Seonghwa just talked to him, he’s with Jongho and they’re finishing the trip out here.”

“Okay,” the one word shows the instant relief before Yeosang speaks again. “What about the others?”

“Yunho is accounted for. Wooyoung is here with Hwa and I, he’s trying-” he cuts off when he spots Wooyoung neary throwing his phone before he’s stopped by Seonghwa grabbing his wrist. Wooyoung doesn’t lash out like that, and it’s enough to send ice through Hongjoong’s body. “Yeosang, have you seen or heard from Mingi today?”

“Not seen, but he did message and say he and his dad were leaving this morning. Is he not answering?”

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong is up and moving even as he speaks, nearing where Seonghwa is holding tight to Wooyoung with one arm while he tries to hide the frantic energy of his dialing. “What’s wrong?”

“Mingi’s phone is going straight to voicemail.” Seoghwa replied, lifting his phone to his ear. “Wooyoung tried him seven times.”

“Damnit.” Hongjoong replies, the sound almost a hiss.

“I’m not near any of my gear, Joong. I can’t trace him until I get to the manor with all of you.” Yeosang speeds through the words, a panic setting into him as well despite the calm in his tone. 

“Just stay calm, Yeosang. You worry about getting here in one piece. Hwa and I will worry about calming Wooyoung down and filling in the rest of the guys.”

“I’m like half an hour out, but I can cut time if I make them stop and get on my bike.”

“Do whatever you need to.” Hongjoong replied. “For gods’ sake just be careful.”

“Copy that, Captain.” The line dies as Yeosang ends the call, and Hongjoong has to take a slow breath to calm the anger in his body. Wooyoung’s entire body trembles just enough to make it noticeable, the younger male gripping at Seonghwa’s arm like a scared child, though what emotions he’s going through is unclear.

“First thing’s first.” Hongjoong began, back straightening. “We’re gathering in Wooyoung’s study, away from parents and staff. This is Horizon Boy business; we handle it our way.” His tone is level, forcing all other emotions down as he looks at the two men before him. Eyes lift to meet his second in command, and he nods at the man as he speaks. “Seonghwa, catch up with Yeonjun, tell him that he and the boys are on standby so we can cover more ground.”

“Yes sir.” Seonghwa says, gently prying his arm from Wooyoung’s grip. Wooyoung fights for a moment, but gives up when Seonghwa is able to pull him from his mind with a few quiet words. 

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong says gently, reaching to touch the back of Wooyoung’s hand. “He will be okay.”

“But…why? Why would they come after us?”

“We’re the heirs, remember? Even if we aren’t an emotional weakness, enemies would perceive us as such because we’re set to take our respective parents’ places.” Hongjoong replied, curling his hand into Wooyoung’s. “Wooyoung, I need your head to stay in the moment, okay?”

“In the moment?” Wooyoung mirrors, confusion twisting his features.

“You and Yeosang are our techs, and you two are the best at it. You can go over what gear you need and get it ready so that when he gets here, the two of you can jump on the trace together.” Hongjoong replied. “We can’t let our emotions get the better of us right now. Not until we find Mingi and know he’s safe. I need you to turn everything else off for now. Can you do that?”

Wooyoung wants to lie and say he can’t, that he needs to step away. However, he knows better, he knows that Hongjoong knows better. Turning off their feelings has been ingrained in them by their parents, a way to do what needs to be done in the moment. Mafia life has little time for emotions in critical situations. The main difference is that Wooyoung is one of the few of them who have never had to utilize it in the field of their lives, and it shows in his struggle to find that calm that Hongjoong currently displays. Closing his eyes, he grips his leader’s hand tighter for a moment, taking a shaky breath and holding it while he counts to five in his head before letting it out slowly. When he opened his eyes, he made sure to lock them on Hongjoong and nod. “I’ve got it, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” 

It takes a moment before Wooyoung can answer, but he manages to hold eye contact, searching Hongjoong’s eyes as he gathers the strength he needs from his leader. “Yes. Just give me twenty minutes to get the system set up.”

“Do you need me with you?”

Wooyoung starts to shake his head for a moment, but finds himself unable to do so. “I’ve never had to do this before, Joong.”

“I know. And I’m right here. We’ll all be here.” Hongjoong assured, squeezing Wooyung’s hand gently. “Let me help you get the stuff, huh? That way you have one of us with you to help keep you level headed.”

“What about Jongho and Yunho?”

“That’s why we’re doing it all together. None of you have ever needed to do this, and I need you to know you aren’t alone.”

“We’re never alone, Hongjoong. We know that. We have you, and you’re a better leader than your father could ever hope to be.” Wooyoung forces himself to take another breath and releases it, letting go of Hongjoong’s hand. “Let’s go. I have to get the computers moved around in the study.” He steps away and makes his way inside, ignoring the confusion and chaos of staff around them. 

“Hongjoong! Wooyoung!” 

The raised voice stops the pair, and Wooyoung turns to find Yunho, the taller male obviously distraught. “Yunho, you’re okay.” he breathes as his brother rushes over to them. 

“Yeah, I was only out to get snacks for us later. Mom called me and I immediately headed home.” Yunho speaks hurriedly. “Do we have anything on Mingi yet? Seonghwa said you guys couldn’t get him to answer either?”

“You tried calling him already?” Hongjoong asked, and seeing Yunho nod put more stock into their growing concern. Mingi would never ignore his boyfriend calling him, especially not when Yunho wasn’t the only one dialing him. “Alright, you’re going to help Wooyoung and I get his study set up so he and Yeosang can run a trace.”

“Where are San and Jongho?”

“Still en route, but safe.” Wooyoung answered with a nod.

“And what about Yeosang?”

“He likely made the driver stop so he could get his bike unhitched, but he’s on the way. He shouldn’t be too far behind you.” Hongjoong said. “Come on, let’s get going. The sooner we get set up, the quicker we can make a plan of action.”

“We aren’t going to ask our parents for anything?” Yunho clarified.

“This is Horizon Boy business.” Wooyoung chimes as he mirrors their leader's words. It seems to be enough to help Yunho calm a little.

“And we handle it our own way.” Yunho finishes, giving a nod. “Alright, let’s go. I need to get Mingi home safe.”

“We all do.” Hongjoong replied, motioning for the two to start up the stairs. He stays behind them, keeping an eye on the two. This is not how he wanted to introduce them into the more dangerous side of their world. He and Seonghwa have carefully brought each of the others in one at a time, so there’s a support system as they learn the ropes. And as each member got comfortable, the next to be brought in would have a bigger blanket of adjustment. Wooyoung and Jongho were supposed to be the last ones, but this event ruined that plan. His head is bouncing over ideas as he blindly walks, knowing the manor as well as he does means he can be allowed some time in his mind. He stops when he finds himself in the large study, moving to the floor to ceiling window that doubles as a door to a large balcony. “Once we get the system up, we need to follow any movements from the last text Mingi sent.” he thought aloud, taking a moment to take in the sky before turning to the large table and gathering the papers strewn about. He stacked them neatly, tapping them on the dark stained oak wood to align them and set them aside. 

“At the very least the last one that was sent to one of us.” Wooyoung replied, moving two laptops onto the table and opening them at two different chairs. “Yunho, I need the holoscreen on while I hook these up to my system.” He falls quiet as he begins focusing, nerves disappearing as he settles into his element. Yunho joined him by the laptops, double tapping the table in between the two that opened to reveal a screen. He laid his thumb over the little screen, and then nodded at his little brother. 

“Alright, it just needs your scan.”

Wooyoung nodded even though he wasn't looking at the other men in the room. When the first screen kicked to life, he stepped to bend over and scan his index finger before turning his attention to the second laptop. “I can follow towers that the phone pinged off of. Yeosang should be able to check for any cloning or strange activity in the background that went unnoticed.”

“That's a thing?” Yunho asked, arching a brow as he pulled chairs out from the table. 

“Trust me, there's a lot a good hacker can do and the user not realize it.” Wooyoung answered calmly. 

“It's why Woo and I regularly update the security for our files in the manors. We should have thought about extending it to our personal phones before now, though.” A deep voice said as footsteps carried in a well built male with dark hair pinned back by a butterfly barrette. Eyes dart over the room, taking in the others before taking the riding jacket off and draping it over the back of a chair. “Where are we at?”

“We’ve never been targets, Yeo, it didn’t dawn on us to apply it to our phones.” Wooyoung countered, taking one of the chairs and nudging the other back. “I’ve got the system warming up, we should be able to hit the ground running.”

“Has anyone been able to get in touch with Mingi yet?”

“No,” Yunho says, pacing slightly along the wall of books with phone in hand. “As much as we’re calling, he should have answered by now.”

“The fact that he didn’t answer you is concerning enough.” Yeosang says, moving to take the seat next to Wooyoung. The two dove into working quietly, murmuring between themselves as they worked. Hongjoong turned to look at the pair, then moved to walk across the room to Yunho, reaching up to grab the taller man’s shoulder, making Yunho stop to look down at him. 

“We’re going to find him, and he will be safe.” Hongjoong said calmly, seriously, eyes not leaving Yunho’s. 

“It's not Mingi I'm worried about.” Yunho replied. “It's how dangerous we are as a team if he gets hurt.”

“If any of us get hurt.” Hongjoong corrected. “And whoever was stupid enough to cross the eight of us won't like the ending coming their way.”

“We always talk about outside enemies coming after us….but what about family?” Wooyoung asks, eyes still locked on the screen before him. 

“What do you mean, Woo?” Yunho asks, attention going to his brother.

“Everyone working under Hongjoong’s father knows we're the ones next in line for power. He's always made that abundantly clear. Bumjoong gets control of the fronts and saving face, Hongjoong becomes head of the family.” Wooyoung explained. “So everyone is fully aware that means the other seven of us are direct underlings. So, y’know…what happens if someone decides they don't like that arrangement?” 

“You mean an inside job.” Hongjoong’s voice is flat, and the tone is somehow a strange mix of skeptical and unphased. “What are you saying, Wooyoung?”

“Nothing, I just…it's something I thought about.” Wooyoung answers. “We're always ready for outside threats, but shouldn't we consider even our own families an outside threat?” It goes silent aside from the sound of him and Yeosang typing and working on their respective duties to track their friend, and he finds his lower lip tugging between his lips nervously.

“He has a point, Joong.” Yeosang says, finally breaking the silent tension in the room. “With what we're trying to do, even if no one is actually privy to our plans-”

“We'll cross that bridge later.” Hongjoong cuts the other off. “Right now, finding Mingi is our top priority.”

“And if we find out it was, actually, an inside job?” Yeosang asks back, unphased by his captain silencing his thought process so quickly, dark eyes locked on the screen as he goes through the data on Mingi’s device.

“Then we make sure everyone is aware of what happens when you cross the future leaders.” Hongjoong says coldly, and none of the others in the room need to question what he means. If Hongjoong's father makes a statement by brutal punishments, they have to take it further, make it known they have no room for mutinists.

Death is the only answer to crossing the next generation of leaders. 

There's little more than a nod from his underlings, and his attention once more returns to Yunho. “Meet up with Hwa. He's gathering Yeonjun and his boys-”

“We're right here, Captain.” Seonghwa’s voice is a gentle timbre as he walks in, Yeonjun shortly behind as well as the rest of the bodyguards he leads. Behind the bodyguards are the achoi brothers, stepping inside and off to one side as they await orders. “What’s our current course?”

“Yeosang? Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asks, eyes turning to his hackers, tone giving them the floor. 

“There aren’t any background programs or files running on his phone, at least thus far.” Yeosang answers matter of factly, though he doesn’t take his gaze from where he’s still scanning over files. 

“I’m able to track the phone, though.” Wooyoung replied. “Either he has it on silent and hidden on him, it’s in whatever he’s being transported in, or it’s being used to hide where he actually is.”

“What were the last coordinates?” Seonghwa asks, walking over to stand behind the two younger men. 

“It looks like it’s somewhere near the docks.” Wooyoung answered, finally letting his gaze move so he could tilt his head back to look at his lieutenant. “If that is where whoever took him has him, there’s all kinds of places that they could hide him until they get whatever it is they want.”

“The docks?” Yunho asks, looking at his younger brother with a tilt of his head, brown eyes worried. “There’s water there, too. Sharks once the boats start coming in from their night fishing.” 

“Yunho, calm down.” Hongjoong said calmly, walking to look out the large balcony window. “Wooyoung, Yeosang. Where was the first ping between the last communication with him and the current ping?” His back stays to the rest of the room, but his posture reads that he’s very aware of everything and everyone. 

The current display of behavior isn’t something Wooyoung has seen from Hongjoong before, and the young man watches his leader in a mix of awe and fear until a tap on his forearm draws his eyes to Yeosang, who nods once before going back to his screen. Wooyoung finds comfort in his first friend’s demeanor and it makes him take a deep breath in order to settle himself and return to his own screen. 

“The last message to any of us was 2:28.” Yeosang provides, fingers clicking on the keys of his computer. 

Wooyoung nods when the information is relayed, using his own program to configure the info he needed. “It looks like…” he pauses as the coordinates pop up, the text highlighting as he stops. “Wait, what?” he asks, confusion and dread mixing in his voice. “No. No, that can’t be right.” he pleaded more to himself, but his energy was enough to alert Hongjoong. 

“What is it, Woo?” Seonghwa asks, head tilting.

“No, it can’t be.” Wooyoung hears nothing as he runs the program again, breath hitching when the location once more comes up the same. “Yunho…” his voice is weak as he speaks his brother’s name, unable to make an answer for Seonghwa come from his throat. It’s enough to drive his brother to his chair, looking over Wooyoung’s head. 

“Wait, isn’t that-”

Wooyoung is frantically working on running the grid numbers again. “Tell me I’m wrong.” his voice is quiet, worried, as he bites his lip harder. “That’s not where I think it is, right?” He moves his head so he can look over his shoulder at his brother. “Tell me the program is wrong.”

“Wooyoung…” Yeosang starts, reaching to lay his hand on Wooyoung’s arm. “We designed these programs, there can’t be anything wrong with them. What’s going on?”

“That can’t…” Yunho shakes his head. “Why would there be any reason to go to the boutique?”

“What are you talking about, Yunho?” Hongjoong asks, only turning his head to look over his shoulder in the direction of the brothers. 

“The coordinates that first register is the same address as our mom's shop.” Yunho says, frowning. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Then let's go ask questions, children.” Seonghwa states, moving forward to stand behind Hongjoong and brace a hand at Hongjoong's shoulder.

“All of us showing up would be bad, Hwa.” Yeosang muses, though he's focused on his screen. 

“We aren't all going.” Seonghwa replies. “Yunho and San can come with me, Yeonjun and his boys can start on any tracking that needs done. The rest of you stay here with Joong and relay anything he needs to the rest of us in the field.” his eyes are on Hongjoong as he speaks, their leader nodding. Yeonjun motions his head towards the door and his team heads out, but he glanced worriedly at Wooyoung as he leaves.

“Go.” Hongjoong finally tells his second, eyes turning to look back at Seonghwa. “Be careful.” The please is unspoken, but evident in his eyes, and Seonghwa nods, squeezing the younger man's shoulder before lowering his head to kiss Hongjoong’s hair. 

“We'll be back.” Stepping away, he motioned a hand, Yunho and San immediately moving towards the door. “Woo, Yeo, Jongho, stay here where it's safest.”

“Yes sir,” the underlings said just slightly out of sync as the trio left. 

“Joong?” Wooyoung asked, his tone soft. It's barely audible, but it pulls Hongjoong’s attention to him. “Tell us what we need to do.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Author's Notes:: Hello, my multis! Kallin here with a new update to the Horizon Boys series. This work was originally only supposed to one chapter, but at 13 pages in my google docs for just this part, I made the choice to split it into at least two parts. This is set roughly seven years before In the Morning, so enjoy.

Please do not repost my work.